This article may seem a bit early in the year (I mean come on, it’s still term one!) but it’s never too early to start thinking about your future home. Take it from me, a second-year student who procrastinated for far too long and ended up living in the middle of nowhere, otherwise known as Tile Hill. So, take heed readers, and get ahead of the game!
Before diving in, I feel obliged to say something about Tile Hill, my current homeland. The house feels modern and has a garden patio and is most certainly roomier than the places the viewed in Leam and Central Cov. The biggest downfall for me is the distance from Uni. All in all, it’s a 45-minute walk to the FAB or a 20-minute walk to the closest direct bus to uni. I mean, sure, I’m no further from Sainsbury’s now than I was from Tesco last year (20-minutes from Heronbank), but the nectar points don’t make it worth the hype. The Co-op corner shop is about a 10-minute walk, and is at least marginally cheaper than Rootes. In truth, I’m just whining because I left the search so late. Tile Hill definitely has redeeming qualities, as long as you don’t mind a longer commute and quieter night life. The bus situation is annoying, but I think that most places off-campus have their own restrictions. A 40-minute walk is entirely plausible and beats waiting for a bus that never shows up (I’m talking about you, National Express).
The bus situation is annoying, but I think that most places off-campus have their own restrictions.
The thing that gets me the most is the sense of isolation. Most of the time it’s fine, but there are occasional moments, or days, where I feel overwhelmingly lonely. I can’t take a stroll and bump into someone I know or make a last-minute decision to attend a society event. Everything has to be planned but finding the motivation for that is hard. My housemates and I get on well enough, though my relationships with them have certainly suffered since last year. They lived in the flat next to me so I didn’t think it would be much different. Now I can’t help but notice how unified three of them are, almost inseparable. It’s nice until they do most things without you or clutter the kitchen with the aftermath of their cooking and start murmuring when you enter. The fourth flatmate is on-campus a lot, busy being an exec and actually studying for her degree. It’s a shame because she’s the one I’m closest with. Often, I’m left wondering how I ended up like this. Is this really the uni experience? Cooking my food and retreating back into my room? Sitting on the sofa and thinking about when I can go to bed? Surely not. I can’t help but feel that I’m missing out.
I’m not a huge clubbing person, though I do enjoy going to bars when the opportunity arises. I particularly like The Yard, a gay bar in Cov. On Thursdays they do karaoke night hosted by drag queens. It’s pretty awesome and the security take their jobs very seriously, so I’ve always felt comfortable. The only worrying bit is getting home. Though the bus-stop is barely a minute away, that doesn’t stop drunkards and ‘roadmen’ from prowling the streets and buses. Admittedly, living off-campus hasn’t changed their behaviour since last year, but it does mean that getting the bus is a lot more stressful than before. In first year, I’d go to The Yard with some friends, and we’d split the cost of an uber back to campus, costing each of us less than the price of a drink. But now, unless I go with my housemates (which is very unlikely) an Uber can cost between £6-12 to drop me off. At that rate, I may as well try to catch the last bus or to stay at home, it’d be cheaper anyway. Do you see what I mean? It’s easier to talk yourself out of things, claiming it’s too expensive or it’s not safe. Both are mostly true, but that never stopped me before.
Another downfall about living off-campus is the lack of study spaces. Most of the time, you’re limited to the following: your room, your kitchen or your living area. Going to a cafe in Coventry isn’t exactly an ideal place to study, they’re more ‘grab-your-stuff-and-go’. Leamington is more welcoming to students, I must admit. The Highstreet is full of quirky places to grab some food and drink, and most places don’t seem to mind you studying as long as you buy something. However, the 45-minute commute from my house prevents this from being a regular occurrence. Most of the time, I switch between my bed and my desk, accepting that this is the only way I can (fairly) productively do work when off-campus. It’s a good thing I do English, as most of this time is spent reading. On-campus has become the place where the majority of work gets done. I tend to stick to the Library, Cafe Library or the FAB, mainly because my seminars are usually in the FAB or Humanities Building (apart from the horrendous 5.30-7pm seminar in Milburn House every Tuesday). I like spaces where there is background noise because it means I’m not always using my earphones. Also, when I get bored I can eavesdrop in a conversation and try to channel it into my own creative writing. All in all, I wish I appreciated the perks of living on-campus last year. There were so many options and many of them were free!
The Highstreet is full of quirky places to grab some food and drink
For next year, I’m considering moving closer to uni, or even back on-campus. Sure, the rent may be higher, but with the bus fare and money I spend on food on-campus, it might be worthwhile. My bills weren’t included with the property, meaning we pay rent to the landlord and everything else is done separately. It was hugely complicated setting it all up and trying to coincide the payment dates, so our bills were at least going out around the same time each month. We have a meter for gas and electricity, so pay for what we use. In a way this is good, and I’m sure I’ll be thankful for it in the summer, but currently it is my worst enemy. As winter approaches the monthly price seems to creep up and up and up. We’re expecting a staggering jump next month, especially since the heating is used regularly and so is the tumble-dryer. But who am I to tell others to tighten their belts? I’m also guilty of these things and our health will suffer if we don’t have warm clothes and a warm house. I just don’t know how I can afford it. I chose English for a reason and try to stay far away from any sort of maths, but budgeting seems to be what I do most at the minute.
Linking to this are the additional responsibilities that come from renting a property. The weekly cleaner was a godsend, and I miss Pat now more than ever. In my house, the biggest problem in the kitchen seems to be the hob. Nobody seems to clean it, so we’re left with artful splattering and foamy remains of overflowing pasta-water. I’ve taken to cleaning my own splodges and accepting that they’ll get round to clearing their own mess eventually. It’s the same with washing up – bowls and plates seem to stack up, one day (perhaps?) to be cleaned. I had a go at my flatmates for it, now we’re not friends anymore. Aside from cleaning, there are other grown-up things you need to remember as a tenant. Firstly, bin day. We’ve forgotten to put the bins out before and have had to squish the recycling down as much as possible, hoping it wouldn’t overflow too much in the next two weeks. I’m just grateful that it wasn’t general waste- we definitely would have attracted flies. Secondly, noise control. On one side there is an elderly retired couple. They’re lovely people, so I feel very conscientious of making too much noise. On the other side – the side that our house is connected to – is a couple with 2 (or perhaps 3) children. Equally, we don’t want to disturb them, and are more aware of noise at night. Last year, it wasn’t the end of the world if you were a bit loud in your kitchen – the flat above probably were too.
But don’t let me put you off. As the title suggests, the article is based on the downfalls from living off-campus, so many of the benefits are missed out. Think about the freedom to decorate the house, the increase in independence and the candles you can finally light! The purpose of this isn’t to scare you into staying on-campus but rather to share my own experiences and warn you of the possibilities so that you can do your best to overcome them.
And now, my monologue has come to an end. The curtain closes and I retreat.