How Not To Be A Fresher – Part Two

How Not To Be A Fresher – Part One Continued. 

The older years began arriving back and I started making more new friends.

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Especially on my birthday, which unfortunately fell on the night of Hockey initiations (which actually didn’t, but I changed it on Facebook so it would be on a Wednesday night) it was bad (and made worse when they realised I’d lied).

We were silage wrapped to two other members of the hockey team. The other two were blindfolded and I was left to take the lead wondering around campus barefooted (crying as I stood on every slug, being attacked with blue sheep spray).

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It finally finished and we enjoyed a night in the SU (I had a personality malfunction and stormed off to my room) and celebrated my real birthday (at 12am – blue and alone).

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Academically (and socially) I struggled. I began university studying Business Management with Marketing but felt I wasn’t making the most out of Harper’s agricultural facilities (and I was threatened to be thrown out of university as I kept missing my Thursday morning lecture) so changed courses to Agri- Business – this allowed me to pursue a career in a topic I was truly passionate about (and they had Thursday mornings off).

My friends questioned my change of course, as my (lack of) knowledge in agriculture soon became apparent (and it wasn’t just my non-waterproof wellies made of tweed). During one ‘rambling’ (walking – not on a road, I had no idea) session, I told my friends to be careful of the male sheep in the field – (which was greeted with confused looks) and followed on to explain my diagnosis of their sex (“they have black faces”).

Nevertheless, I made the most of the Harper Spirit – ‘Work Hard, Play harder’ (and got royally wankered every Wednesday) dancing around the SU (chasing boys back to their homes) and getting involved with the First Year committee.

Myself and a few other freshers were given the chance to organise a Wednesday night – we chose the theme ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’, and after weeks of publicising (looking on eBay to find my outfit – ignoring all other responsibilities) everyone turned up in their best pirates outfit (and I turned up as Keira Knightley – in my dress from the Renaissance and £150 up-do hairstyle). The night was a roaring success (and I was never asked to join a committee again).

Some of the older students didn’t completely agree with my ‘extrovert’ (snog anything with a mouth) behaviour. One girl (a fiery red head) took a particular dislike towards me (I had sex on her kitchen work-top and instead of an apology I left a used condom). But we handled the situation in a mature way (she pinned me up against the door of the girls’ toilets shouting “you are disgusting – you should be ashamed, stay away from my house”) I didn’t try to build bridges, but respected her wishes and kept a safe distant (then did anal in her home a couple of evenings later).

By second term it all got too much (walking into bars and greeted with the song “Come on Harris Hilton, Come on Harris Hilton – Nosh, Nosh, Nosh me off”) and I went home to be with my family (who told me to just dye my hair – because, of course this was the solution to all my problems) when a second year called my mobile and told me to come back, promising it will get easier. I returned (and then a week later I got set on fire dressed as a sheep).

See: ‘Caution, I’m highly flammable.’

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