I move in

On arrival, I expected to go to reception, maybe sign a couple of forms, get a key, and start moving in. In fact, I had to join a queue. There were some 'senior residents' (who'd already been at LSE for a year or two and have certain duties and responsibilities in the hall) on hand to direct everyone, and they were telling new arrivals to go and wait in the common room, in the basement, and to move all their luggage down there too. This seemed a bit bizarre, as the chances were you wouldn't get a room at basement level so would have to lug everything back up an extra flight of stairs. Actually, while this was true for some people, it turned out that three quarters or so of residents had to go down to basement level and across a courtyard garden to reach the right flight of stairs for their room- including me.

There were ten or so people in the common room when I got there. Most people were too shy to talk, but there was a group of Greek students talking to a UK student mostly in Greek, and I did get talking to an American girl, L, who was nice. Sometimes the senior residents showing people into the common room asked who was there last, so they could see where they were in the queue, but sometimes not so it was a little confusing, but I managed to remember my place, and was called away from my conversation with L after I'd been there half an hour or so. When I got to the front desk, I couldn't understand what had been taking so long- all I had to do was read, sign and date two pieces of paper, then I got my key. I went back out of the front door in search of my parents, but they'd disappeared so I went up to my room, escorted by one of the senior residents, dumped my bag, and then went back down. This time my parents were outside (they'd been moving the car) and they helped me take everything up. It was quite a struggle because sometimes we didn't all fit in the lift, and though my room's on the third floor, the ground level is actually at the basement level so it was four flights with heavy stuff.

We went and had lunch in a nearby cafe, then I said goodbye to my parents and went in search of a shop to get some supplies in. I really wanted Sainsbury's, which I have an irrational fondness for, but all I found was Tesco express, which I have an irrational dislike of, even though Tesco is where my parents shop. So I got some stuff there- after walking a fair way to see whether there was a Sainsbury's some distance further on. On my walk, I saw two tube train carriages placed high up, not on tracks but where it looked as though there might have been tracks once, and a bridge over the road. They were covered in graffiti. I wasn't quite sure if they were just there for want of somewhere better to put them, or if they were supposed to be artistic. But I quite liked them, though they would have been better without the graffiti maybe.

I came back to my flat and unpacked, made the bed, etc- though I couldn't put my clothes away because there were, surprisingly, no drawers, but just a cupboard with a shelf and a rail but no hangers. They're still in their suitcases at the moment but I'm planning to get some hangers and maybe also some cheap plastic drawers- I'd use them at home as well. I also read through the rules and regulations. No sticking posters up except on the doors and on the notice board- pins only on the board, blutack only on the doors, no sticky tape, and nothing on the painted areas. If the radiator isn't warm enough, students are allowed to buy an oil heater but not an electric fan heater as that is apparently a safety risk*. Guests have to be signed in and can stay a maximum of three nights in any seven. And, though it wasn't written down, it turns out that you can't have a shower with the door open** as the fire alarm is so sensitive that it will be set off by steam- not that I mind that, but it also means you can't boil a kettle to make tea in your room. All these years I've been nostalgic for the good old days of halls, and I'd forgotten why it was that at the time I couldn't wait to move out...

The other reason why I wanted to move out was the continual fire alarms. You were lucky if they only went off in the middle of the night once every two weeks, when someone tried to make toast while drunk. Here, things haven't settled down yet as people are still getting used to both the presence of the fire alarms, and in some cases, living away from home and cooking for the first time. We've had about four or five in the 48 hours since I arrived... and not only do I have to go down those 4 flights of stairs to evacuate, but actually the courtyard garden isn't the assembly point, though it seems totally mad, you actually have to cross that and go inside again, up one flight to the ground floor and out of the front door. This takes me about 30 seconds less than it takes the staff to verify that it's a false alarm and turn it off. So although it's good not to have to hang around***, there is a strange kind of futility to going all that way, waiting a few seconds and then going all the way back. My favourite fire alarms so far have been: the one yesterday morning when I'd just come back from the Tesco express with some things for breakfast, had just climbed those four flights, was just about to open the door of the flat- then down again, then back up again when the alarm was off- though I'd normally take the stairs to go to my room, in this case, having just climbed them once already, I would have taken the lift except that it's already out of order. You can imagine that by the time I reached the door of my flat for the second time, I was pretty exhausted.

And the one at 3 am this morning. Of course, I knew there would be a fair few of these, so almost the first thing I did when unpacking was to hang my very warm coat on the back of my door. It's the coat I had for the Japanese winter, with built in fleece and padded skirt, and I won't be wearing it in the normal course of things for a few months- but it's a lot better than a dressing gown when you have to go outdoors in the small hours, with only nightie or pyjamas underneath. Normally, if I'm woken by a noise or needing to visit the loo or anything, I can go back to sleep again straight away (provided the noise doesn't continue), but somehow, after summoning enough presence of mind to remember my keycard and find my shoes, going down four flights of stairs, across a courtyard, up another flight and out of the front door, then going back through the door, down one flight, across a courtyard, and up four flights of stairs, I was wide awake when I got back to bed...

Something I missed in my UCL days**** was the socialising events of the first couple of days- I assume they did have some. Here, there was a party on the first night, in the courtyard and the common room, with free wine and nibbles, and I talked to quite a few interesting people, though it was slightly bad planning as the party started at 4 (with some speeches by Students' Union
officers about their services), by which time I'd met just one of my flatmates, a very tall Canadian, and of course, though I met many people from other flats (which was important as there isn't much chance of getting to talk to them in the normal course of things- unless, I suppose you go to the common room at the same time as them- since we can't get into other flats), there was no way of trying to find the rest of my own flatmates since, not having met them, I didn't have a clue what they looked like.

By about 8:30, the party was getting a little wild- it had been going on for four hours, and every now and then there was the smash of a dropped glass. In the common room, a South American student was playing Latin music and people were dancing- but for some reason, I couldn't quite get my body to dance properly. I met L again, and she said she wanted to see my flat, so we left together, and I showed her the kitchen and my room. I offered her some supper, as I had an unopened jar of pesto and a big packet of pasta, but having flown from America that morning she was more tired than hungry and went back to her own flat, not before we'd swapped contact details.

The next night, there was a quiz with free pizza (delivered by Pizza Hut) followed by a pub crawl, led by some senior residents***** . I met some more nice people, and though our team didn't do that well, we had a good time. Not everybody went on the pub crawl, but I wanted to, and M, anopther American student who I'd just met, and who'd been wavering, decided to come along, partly because I said I wouldn't stay for the whole thing and would be able to find my way back. I thought the pubs would all be just one or two streets away, but actually it was a massive hike all the way to Hoxton, and I felt a bit bad because it was really too far for M, as she was very tired, and I don't think she'd have come if she'd realised. I also felt bad when, having got talking to A (one of my teammates on the quiz and another American) while waiting to be served at the second pub, and gone to sit with him and another guy, from the UK, I looked around for M when we all left that one (thinking she might want to go home now) and she'd already left- I hope she found someone who knew the way back! As it turned out, that was it for the pub crawl- we visited another one on the way back, but left again without anyone getting a drink- it was really loud in there and you couldn't have a conversation which didn't really help with getting to know people, so I wasn't sorry, though I'm not sure if that's why we didn't stay there.

That morning, I'd met up with one of my UCL friends, Cat, who was passing through London on her way back from visiting Ginger******- I was invited but couldn't go because of moving in. We went and sat in Covent garden and chatted for ages over cups of chai- I would have liked to take her back to my halls for lunch, but she had to get back to pack herself (she's going to do a masters in Social Anthropology at Durham and is moving in today), and also didn't want to lug her heavy bag around (I also wanted her help looking for a present for S, another UCL friend who's having a birthday party on Saturday, but I understood- it really was a very heavy bag). The problem with Cat is that, though I like her a lot, somehow the combination of the two of us is not good in that we always end up talking about really serious and depressing stuff like future career possibilities, whether we should have a tax-funded healthcare system, the meaning of life, and so on. If we're with Ginger as well, we're usually more lighthearted- when I'm by myself with Ginger, practically every line of the conversation is a joke, and some of that comes into play with the three of us. I was discussing this with Cat (another serious topic!), and we tried not to be so serious (and I made her promise not to mention career options for 15 minutes- every conversation I have with her these days ends up turning into a discussion of what she might decide to go and do and although it's not even my life and my career somehow I get stressed by osmosis)- we actually succeeded a little bit, though of course consciously trying is not the best way to go about it (but if we didn't try we didn't get anywhere at all); maybe we'll get there in the end.

After I left Cat, I went back home, via the Sainsbury's in Holborn that I knew existed but that I had difficulty finding from where I was. It turned out not to be that big, and didn't have everything, but I managed to stock up on quite a few things, including essentials such as cooking oil; I actually couldn't have carried any more anyway. They didn't have Ecover washing up liquid, which I wanted because it's better for the environment (and being the environmental volunteer... actually, I'd use it anyway because it's silly to use products that are harmfull to nature when there's a safer alternative), but after lunch (which I had back at halls), I went to the whole food shop I'd spotted just round the corner, and found a whole range of Ecover products there. Then I went back into the centre, to Oxford St, because I hadn't been able to find anywhere that might sell towels any closer, got some in Marks and Spencer (a good deal actually- a bundle of 2 flannels, 2 hand towels and 2 bath towels for £9.50), some soap, a soap dish, a plastic box for stuff I want to keep in the bathroom*******, and a set of acrylic desk top drawers for odds and ends- I felt a little guilty at all the spending, but having a place to put everything will make a huge difference to my ability to keep my room tidy, which will have a knockon effect on my mental health (I find a messy room depressing- doesn't everyone?- though that doesn't mean I actually get round to doing anything about it) and will save time that I would otherwise spend looking for things, thus giving me more time to study. Besides, I'll use them long after I've left halls.

*Personally I'd have thought an oil heater was more dangerous- not only can that, like a fan heater, be a fire risk, but there's also the possibility of carbon monoxide poisoning. Of course, I wouldn't suggest that the reason for the rule is that our rent includes electricity and they don't want people gulping it up with permanently on fan heaters...

**All the rooms are ensuite

***At my UCL halls, they had to get the firemen for every alarm (I think it was automatic) so everyone had to wait till they turned up and investigated thoroughly, which could be as long as 15 minutes...

****UCL was my insurance offer, and though I should have applied for halls anyway, I didn't really understand that they would automatically cancel my place if I didn't go to UCL, and thought that to apply would mean messing them around in that case. So I had to go on the waiting list for halls, and didn't arrive till two weeks or so after everyone else. It also meant I ended up as the only girl on a corridor of boys- the policy was not to put girls on the ground floor for security reasons, but that was the spot that came up when I got to the top of the list, so that was where I went. Another reason I was looking forward to moving out of halls- I don't like sleeping on the ground floor, not because I don't feel safe, but because it just feels wrong to me. So I'm actually happy to be on the third floor this year- except when the fire alarm goes

*****Who evidently didn't know the area that well or have great senses of direction as they had to stop and ask the way at one point, and we walked in an arc rather than the most direct way

******Not their real names, obviously. But if I'm going to be anonymous then it's only fair they should be too. Cat because she does have some cat like tendencies, and Ginger, not because she has red hair (she doesn't), but because she once said if she was going to have a nickname, she might want it to be that- in an early 20th c/ Biggles parody kind of way. These were the two I shared a flat with in my final year of UCL.

*******which will stop it getting wet- the previous night I made quite a puddle on the floor from using the shower which was not so good as I was using a cardboard box at that point and it was on the ground- it seems to be ok though