8am:
It’s a Thursday morning, you wake up instantly reminded that you took it way too far in Daisy’s the night before. Your phone is flooded with messages from your friends asking, “what happened to you?” and “are you alive?”. You wake up in a hot flush, feeling dehydrated. The sunlight is aggressively shining through your broken blinds. You check the time; you decide to go back to sleep until you have to get up for your 11 am seminar. Suddenly, the fire alarm starts blaring. You unwillingly drag yourself out of bed and stand outside in the freezing cold in your dressing gown, surrounded by the entirety of North Village, avoiding eye contact with everyone and attempting not to pass out from dehydration. Once you’re allowed to go back inside, you collapse into bed, and attempt to go back to sleep.
11.30am:
The next thing you know your alarms starts ringing, and you realise you slept through the first three. The U1 is leaving in 15 minutes, and today is the day you have to make it into your seminar, you’re giving a group presentation, you absolutely cannot miss it. You sprint out the door, only to realise halfway down the corridor you left your Ucard in your room. As you approach the bus stop the U1 drives off without you, the ultimate betrayal.
12pm:
You decide to stop by Senate House to get a coffee because you’re already late and the only thing that will lift your spirits is a caffeine fix. Once you get your hands on an overpriced iced oat latte you start walking hurriedly down Woodland Road to your seminar. Somehow, amidst all the chaos, you manage to trip in your uggs, completely missing the pavement and spilling your coffee all over your new jumper. By the time you arrive to your seminar, you’re late, un-caffeinated, and out of breath. The presentation was a complete disaster. Determined to salvage the day and be productive, you head to the ASS to get started on your essay. As you step inside you’re hit with the humid air, your forehead is instantly glistening with sweat as you’re pacing around the floors of the library. Miraculously, you spot a single free seat, the only one on the entire floor. You swiftly walk towards it, glad something is finally going right. Only for someone to swoop in at the last second and claim it. On the verge of a breakdown, you turn around and decide you will start your essay tomorrow.
2pm:
Defeated, you make your way to Sainsbury’s to treat yourself to your favourite meal deal. Unfortunately, it’s the lunchtime rush and every student in Bristol seems to have had the same idea. The shelves are looking bare and the only sandwich left is one singular soggy egg mayo. You give up and settle for a bag of crisps… until your card declines at the self-checkout. Mortified, you open your bank app to see your officially in overdraft, a consequence of feeling generous and deciding to buy everyone a jaeger-bomb at Daisy’s last night. As your try to leave discreetly, you bump into your situationship, who ignored your drunk messages last night. You exchange an awkward “hi”, as if they haven’t left you on delivered for 12 hours, and attempt move on with some dignity. When you get home, things get worse, you remember it’s your flatmates birthday tonight… and they insist on celebrating at the WG Grace.
4pm:
Before the pub you decide to turn the day around by making a nice meal. This idea is short lived as when you walk into your kitchen, you remember your flat hosted pre’s last night and the kitchen has never looked worse. No clean dishes, overflowing bins, you give up. You decide to do your laundry instead. But even that goes wrong, circuit laundry manages to scam you, it steals your money and refuses to start. Then you remember: it’s your turn to take the bins out. You have to trek across Hiatt Baker in the rain clutching a suspiciously leaky bin bag, knowing this day can’t get any worse.
7pm:
Finally, the day is coming to an end, and you make it to WG Grace, looking forward to relaxing with a cold refreshing pint. But of course you step inside, it’s hot, its humid and there are no tables. You stand there slowly overheating, holding a lukewarm point, looking forward to getting into bed after your worst day at university.
9pm:
Just when you think you’ve got through the worst day, your flatmate suddenly announces : “Let’s go to Thekla tonight.” At this point you’re too hungover and too emotionally drained to refuse, what have you got left to lose? You get out your phone. Sold out. No one in the flat has a ticket but everyone is absolutely convinced the queue won’t be that long. Deep down you know that is deluded, but after the day you’ve had you give in and start downing your drink.
11pm:
You arrive at Thekla and the sight of the queue makes you instantly regret every decision that led you here. After an hour of slowly shuffling forward in the freezing cold, a bouncer shouts the words you knew were coming, “no ticket, no entry”. You stand there defeated and frozen, wishing you were in your bed. There is no choice but to start the long journey home. Of course the bus has just left, its raining and your phone is on 1 per cent. By the time you get back to your flat, you’re exhausted and have come to the decision next Thursday you’re not leaving your bed.
