Durham Uni is an amazing place to be. In fact, it’s THE place to be. Nestled in the north-east, our quaint university city boasts of the infamous Klute (branded the “worst” nightclub “in Europe”), the brunch haven that is Flat White (#NotSponsored…unfortunately), and the 11th wonder of the world: Billy B (commonly known as the Bill Bryson Library). Being in a uni like Durham means that certain things are inevitable; such as being swallowed up by an army of puffer coats and culottes on your way to and from lectures, and begrudgingly taking up hill-walking as a new, and unwanted, lifestyle adjustment- it’s tragic, I know. However, there are also certain things that will never happen to you at University of Durham:
As a person from a normal city, I find this very bizarre. I’m not sure if roadmen do exist and they’re just hiding from all the tweed, signet rings and coloured chinos certain posh mandem seem to adorn, or whether, like McDonalds and KFC, they just don’t exist anywhere near campus. Either way, the only caps and tracksuits you’ll be seeing are the ones owned by those whose Mummy’s and Daddy’s paid extortionate amounts of money to send them to the top schools in the country, yet think it’s “cool” to dress like it’s 2001 and use terms like “sick” and “peng” unironically.
As a Northerner living in a Northern ‘city’, I find this very bizarre. Even though Durham does have a reputation for being a country-club for Oxbridge rejects, aka every other Southerner here, one would expect there to be some sort of North/ South diversity; you know, enough of each side for there to be a lively and banterous North vs. South debate. But alas, there is no such thing. Everyone is from the South, but what’s weird is that they’re either from London, some obscure village nobody has heard of, or worse: Essex. In short, if you’re a Southerner, you probably feel right at home, but if you’re a Northerner, you’ve probably gotten used to hearing lots of elongated a’s and posh, therefore lame, banter.
Coming to Durham has unleashed a deep, dark passion I never knew I had- brunching. Now, don’t get me wrong, I brunched in sixth form, but not to the extent that I do here at uni. Thanks to the generosity of college kitchen staff, we get treated to brunch every weekend including, but not limited to, the BEST hash-browns I have ever tasted. So, if you’re a keen and/ or frequent bruncher, count yourself lucky that Duzza has your back on that one.
Here at Durham, our student body consists of mature, responsible young-adults who can organise their time efficiently and effectively, thus, have no need to pull all-nighters. Additionally, Billy-B is not our home for the last 2 weeks of term as we tend to start our summatives/ formatives in good time, meaning there is no end-of-term stress and/ or subsequent meltdowns. Moreover, we do not prioritise “the sesh” over our education and do not grace the floor of Jimmy’s, or the beloved Missoula, until we physically cannot afford to do so. We get plenty of sleep throughout the entire term, attend all of our lectures and tutorials, and live good, healthy, and wholesome lives.
*The above is a lie, subject to your naivety.
Lol I’m just playin. We’ve all been there and have come out annoyed, close to chundering, and deeply-scarred. Sadly, it’s somewhat inevitable; it’s lowkey creepy, how, overall, the Durham student-body is pretty hot. It’s like the whole uni is an exhibition of Barbies and Kens, with the generic Western standard of beauty- tans, six-packs and thigh gaps- in overwhelming abundance (just look at some of the college charity fashion shows). With this, of course, comes the unavoidable burden of third-wheeling when you’ve lost all but one of your squad in the club, and they finally get with the hottie from the other corridor that’s been grinding on them for the past 60 seconds. It’s just part of the uni experience. #Tragic
To illustrate my point, here are some relatable lyrics:
Money, money, money,
Ain’t it funny
In a Durham student’s world
Or, for those inclined to OG hip-hop:
Mo money, less problems (#RIPBiggie)
It’s been said that we Durham students don’t suffer from financial problems like the peasants at other unis. Oh no; we rely on Mummy and Daddy’s trust-fund, and when that runs out after a cheeky, totally spontaneous trip to Nice, heart-felt sobs down the phone always do the trick. This is because we’re all filthy rich so money simply isn’t a problem. So yeah, being a Durham student automatically provides immunity for all reckless, and irresponsible financial actions, regardless of the fact that you’re still a uni student who more than likely has debt the size of a Hatfield student’s ego and parents who are sick and tired of being treated like walking banks. But it’s whatever because issa fab lyfe, and even better aesthetic.
It’s well known that Durham doesn’t have a very multi-cultural scene. What is well-known, however, is pretty much everyone’s love for both modern, and old skool, hip-hop and R&B. As much as we all love Rihanna’s ‘Work’, Drake’s ‘One Dance’, and Usher’s ‘Yeah’, hearing them every time you go out gets a tad cliché. It would be nice to hear more iconic classics like ‘You Can Do It’ (Ice-Cube), ‘Jumpin, Jumpin’ (Destiny’s Child), ‘Bossy’ (Kelis), and the risqué, but always lit,‘Thong Song’ (Sisqo). It’d be nice to go out and actually dance as opposed to simply swaying side-to-side or, and this genuinely disgusts me, jump- the club isn’t a zumba class; keep yo damn feet, and body, on the floor. Anyhoo, according to many a DJ, the students of Durham can’t get down to such music, but I’ve seen people slut drop to “Shut Up and Dance”, so if ya’ll can get down to that, you can definitely drop it like it’s hot to a lil bit of Ashanti and Ja Rule. However, this will probably never happen and I’ll continue to be the laughing stock of all my friends at normal unis. It’s no biggie (pun intended).
A) The four people in your entire college don’t count
B) Neither does the one on your course
But that’s none of my bidness…
I was once a fan of potatoes- fried, roasted, or mashed, I loved them all (as with any, and every, carb). However, upon coming to Durham and becoming subject to potato-based meals all day, erryday, that is no longer my reality. I’m sure many of you empathise with this and, as pitiful as it is, potatoes will just never be the same for us. At least we have McDonalds’ fries to make things better…
Oh wait…
#StopTryingToMakePotatoesHappen2k17
Let’s not kid ourselves; hating Hatfield is a tradition almost as old as time itself (with Castle in second place). I mean, how else would we feel towards a college that has the highest intake of Dave C wannabees, SORRY, private school kids, out of all of the colleges? Regardless of our lowkey coveting of the fact that we’re not part of their elitist old boys and future Theresa May’s club, do we know the real reason that there’s a universal hate for Hatfield? No. Are there some decent humans amongst these people? Probs. Are we ever going to stop loathing them despite this? No. To all the colleges that are not Hatfield: this is actually quite fun. Maybe someone can organise a ‘Make Durham Great Again’ rally and suggest how we can build some sort of structure that will separate us from them? Just a thought. To Hatfield: you guys are probably too busy playing croquet and planning on how to compete with the Bullingdon Club to care about our contempt for you, but just know that beneath all of this passive aggressive banter and faux-hatred, you still can’t sit with us. Xoxo
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