How to Annoy a Generation

 Matt Hancock was asked, weeks ago, if a mass migration of 18-22 year olds during the Covid-19 pandemic was wise. He thought they should all go to University, it would be fine, they’d develop a plan. No one has any idea what that plan is but cases are rising. In some areas the R is up to 1.5. Young people were blamed when it went up a little bit. The government told them to go out and spend money. They did and suddenly it’s all their fault for having fun. Now they’ve been told to go to University and the rhetoric is that the virus is spreading because they are having parties. Honestly, a virus doesn’t care whether you are enjoying yourself or are thoroughly miserable. Stick several people, who’ve never met in pokey accommodation, sharing a bathroom and a kitchen and you can guarantee the bugs will jump around, whether alcohol is consumed or they are teetotal. The new noses and respiratory systems of unhappy people will be just as attractive as those who are having fun. 

I’m confused by why the government thinks it’s a good idea to annoy a whole generation but they have.

With all this talk of blaming students it has made me reminisce about my time at University (or Polytechnic, as it was then). It is easy to fall into the tropes that surround student life: All students drink too much, take drugs, sleep around, don’t get on with the people in their accommodation. However, I’m not sure that’s fair. Either that or I was a very boring student.

I made friends on my first day that I would have been happy to live with forever and met others that I that I found more challenging from day one. I didn’t take drugs or sleep around. I did drink a lot but not more than I could handle (except on my 21st Birthday, when a couple of bottles of champagne disagreed with the jacket potato and chilli I’d had in the Wicked Woman of Wheathampstead pub). I went home at weekends to see my boyfriend. (My life could have been very different if that hadn’t been allowed)

I’ve been trying to remember everyone that I lived with in that first year and whether we would have survived a lockdown. Colin, Clare, Angie, Jenny, Graeme, Duncan, Mark, Mick and Keith. There were twenty people on our corridor and I can only remember nine names. There was a boy who wore fake leather trousers who played The Smiths until we were all suicidal. A girl who did engineering and seemed very unhappy. My old headteacher’s daughter, whose room always smelled of joss sticks (I was very naive). Two Polish boys (one might have been called Piotrik) with the best vodka. I think there was also a boy that we laughed at because he burnt Smash. That means there are four people that I can’t recall at all. The twenty people shared two kitchens. The corridor opposite also had twenty people and our showers and toilets were in the middle of the two. I and two other girls became friends with four people from the opposite corridor and we went on to live together in the other years. My room was big enough for a single bed, desk with shelves above, wardrobe and bedside cabinet. The halls were essentially a demountable. In between the two corridors was the security guard’s office. Ours was a lovely man called Bill and he had prostate cancer. I don’t know how many other corridors there were but I think there were quite a few. 

I remember the days fondly and think I would have been fine in a lockdown situation. It might even have been a bonding experience. This is what I hope for the current students. Days filled with friendship, drinking wine, watching TV, going to the supermarket, studying, playing music too loud and talking about (but never quite getting round to) joining the gym.