Higher Spurning

Dear Tom,

Looks like you were right: University is for wankers. It’s shite here, the perfect end to the perfect year. 2020 can do one. 

I’ve been here for eight days now, and it’s been an unadulterated shitstorm from beginning to end. No, scrap that. It’s been shite for a good deal longer than that. One minute we’re getting ready to sit the exams that we’ve spent the last 18 years working towards, the next, we’re told that’s not going to happen. 

Do you remember when we used to talk about what our last day at school would be like? You always swore you’d set fire to the science lab, I’d tell Mr Burton what a wankstain he was, and then the entire year would go to the pub, and we’d end up having sex with Lucy Phillips and Amber Hodgson? Instead, we ended up getting a text telling us school had closed, so our last day was the day before, when we’d just finished double geography and got the bus home in the rain, and you dropped your Curly Wurly in a puddle. 

The ‘Summer of Love’ turned out to be a bit of a disappointment, too. We didn’t get to go to Glastonbury, but we did manage to meet up outside Greggs a few times. Having a vegan sausage roll and a can of Strongbow in the park isn’t exactly getting off your tits in front of the Pyramid Stage though, is it? I have to say, I never quite anticipated that my last summer before leaving home would involve watching quite so much Pointless on TV with mum and dad. 

Still, at least I did actually leave home. For a few fucking awful days, it looked like I’d not got in – thanks to some fucking algorithm that decided I had the intellectual aptitude of an amoeba. I have to say, if being here is bollocks, at least it’s bollocks without the added agony of Pointless. 

I got on with my flatmates almost immediately. They’re a great bunch – apart from ‘Rona (I’ll come on to her). On the first night, we decided to go out and get pissed, but literally every pub in town took one look at us, a bunch of students, and barred us. As far as I’m concerned, they can close the pubs at 10pm, 6pm or 2pm, it makes no fucking odds when you’re not allowed in.

Most people we saw crossed the street to avoid us. There was one bloke who was quite helpful though. I think he was trying to remind us of the dangers of tiny airborn particles of the disease. He saw us and started yelling “Aerosols, aerosols,” over and over. I think that was it, he had quite a strong accent.

Anyway, on the first night, the girl a couple of doors down from me – I don’t even know her name – stuck a note up on her door saying she was self-isolating, because she was showing symptoms. Two days later, she got test results back, and she had the virus. So we called her ‘Rona. Before you knew it, the whole block went into lockdown. I know it’s not her fault, but it’s difficult not to feel a bit fucked off with her, now that we all have to spend so much time stuck in the flat. No wonder she hasn’t shown her face. Stupid cow has ruined everything.

I’ve been here for over a week, and I basically haven’t met anyone outside of this floor. I know the papers are full of stories about how we’re all having COVID parties and snogging each other and cavorting about like its ancient fucking Rome, but actually, most of the time we’re sat about eating toast and drinking tea and wondering where it all went wrong. 

I had my first lecture yesterday – online, of course. It consisted of an old fella who couldn’t really work his laptop, reading to us from The Miller’s Tale. But his lips and the sound weren’t in sync. It was like the fucking worst episode of CBeebies Bedtime Stories ever, read by a pretentious old twat in his dingy living room. Well worth nine grand in anyone’s book.

Right, I’ve got to go. The Sainsbury’s delivery has just arrived, and as it’s almost entirely cheap lager, I think I’d better go and help unpack. I’ll continue this when I get a mo – it’s a busy old business, having fuck all to do!

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Right, I’m back again. It’s two days later. It’s been a nightmare!!! The internet went down. I mean, Coronavirus, and the whole global pandemic shit, that’s one thing. But losing Wifi? No thanks! I started writing a very strongly worded email to the head of our residence, until I realised that it might be difficult to send it with no internet. Honestly, I think that algorithm might have been right about me after all.

Anyway, I ended up getting her on the phone, and I told her how absolutely desperate we were to get the Internet back up and running. She said she sympathised, but it might take several days to get it fixed. At this point, I pretended to have a panic attack, and said I would fall behind on my studies if I didn’t get to attend my Canterbury Tales lectures. I told her that they were an inspiration to me, a shining beacon of light, and intellectual oasis in the wastelands of isolation, and that my mental health would suffer if I couldn’t apply myself to my course. Anyway, it seemed to work, the Wifi was back on two hours later, and we’ve been playing Call of Duty ever since.

We feel a bit forgotten by people at times. We’re stuck here, with nothing to do, and nobody appears to give much of a shit. (Apart from mum, who is phoning every fifteen minutes – criiiinge! She never calls when Pointless is on, mind!) We got an emergency care package sent by the University. It consisted of a bottle of hand sanitiser, some pasta, some rice, some beans, some teabags, and 30 condoms. Condoms??? What the fuck are we meant to do with them? It’s not like this has turned into one massive orgy. You can’t even meet anybody! So we ended up using them all in a massive water fight. 

Oh hey, something else! We were on the news the other night. We’d put up some hilarious signs in the window, “Send beer” and “Help, we’ve drunk all our hand sanitiser”, and we ended up getting filmed waving out of the window. It was all quite funny, but the news in general is pretty fucking depressing. They went into town and started talking to locals, and they’re all really annoyed with us, as if the virus was started by a bunch of chemistry students in the science buildings rather than when a pangolin fucked a bat in China. I have literally been into town once, for half an hour, on my first day, and I feel like I’m being seen as a superspreader who goes around licking people. 

Also, why does everyone assume that, just because we are students living in halls of residence, that we’ve all automatically got coronavirus? Having said that, I have got coronavirus. I feel fine, though. No symptoms at all. One of the lads made his tuna bakle the other night, and I was wishing I’d lost my sense of taste. Right, I’ve gotta go, we’re doing a Rainbow Six Siege session. I’ll finish this tomorrow.

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Okay, so at last, something has happened. I’ve met ‘Rona. Her name is Nikki. She finally came out of her room last night when we were playing beer skittles in the corridor. Her first words, literally the first words any of us ever heard her say, were “Who the fuck do I have to kill to get a drink around here?” I fell in love right there. (Actually, I had already fallen in love with her the moment she opened the door – she was wearing a New York Giants sweatshirt, and she’s fucking gorgeous!)

She joined us all in the kitchen, where I managed to impress her with my signature dish for dinner. (Thank goodness she likes toast!) She kept apologising to everyone for having brought the infection into the building, but I told her only a moron would blame her. It’s not as if she was to know, after all. People can be so unreasonable!

She asked if I’d caught it, and I told her I had. She whispered ‘good’ in my ear, and touched my hand. 

We had a few more drinks (I have to say, Hofmeister gets a bad press) and then went back to her room and before I knew it we… well, a gentleman never tells. But I’ll give you a bell tomorrow and talk you through it in intimate detail. Suffice to say, I wish we’d not thrown one of those water bombs. Actually, four of them!!!

Anyway, I’ve gotta go. Nikki and I are gonna watch Pointless.

Uni’s the fucking best, mate. I’m having a belter. Miss you though.

See you at Christmas – I fucking hope!! 

Chris

PS I’ve got a weird rash on my bits – is that a symptom of COVID?