Two packs of powdered soup and a can of red bull.

Sometimes in my dreams this image of my fridge during Freshers’ Week 2012 still haunts me. Like a fine work of art, there is something iconic and compelling in its desolation. Now four years on from that moment, I took it upon myself, on behalf of this fine publication, to attempt to live for a day as my youth had taught me to live, that is entirely on the bounty of Freshers’ Week.

There are two roads one can take on this journey, one for the coward and one for the hero. The former consists of subsisting off the “free” food vouchers that you get for joining up to societies. But if a burrito costs €3 is it truly a free burrito or merely an exceptionally cheap burrito? I believe my point is clear. No, mine was the high road, the path of the strong. I would not loosen my purse straps for any marauding jester on this journey.

I choose the Wednesday of Freshers’ Week to set out for two main reasons. First the free French Soc breakfast at 11am and second the free Hist dinner at 5pm. But a Tuesday night of Sandstorm (by Darude, look it up), whiskey and general frolicking at Players meant that my plan of existing off hoarded croissants for the day was tragically dashed. Thankfully, seven years of scouting has imbued in me obscene levels of preparedness (definition: a state of readiness, especially for war) and so I had on hand my greatest ally in this battle: the SU Freshers’ bag.

It is important for any hatchling so bold as to follow in my heroic footsteps to note that procuring a Monday morning bag is vital for your survival. The bags get significantly less valuable as the week progresses but if you snatch one early it is a veritable treasure trove of delights. So it was that I settled down to breakfast of Flahavan’s porridge (made on water) seasoned with dark chocolate Bounty. Despite this hearty beginning, the wait until 5pm was a roller-coaster. I managed two pizza slices snagged from The Phil stand, a bag of Mammoth crisps, a penguin bar, some sour starbursts, a small but heavily salted bag of fresh popcorn, candyfloss, four lemon bonbons, a free coffee from the Science Gallery and an unknown amount of lemon sherbets kindly supplied by the fine people at Trinity Arts Festival.

In a fiendish frenzy of caffeine and sugar I made my way to the Hist conversation room for 5pm. Actually 4.45 just to be safe. Dinner was late we were told. So we waited. For 45 minutes I waited. But injury of injuries, injustice of all injustices, I was prohibited from my Pieman because of a maroon-stained t-shirt, and truth be told, a maroon-stained heart. A pack of John West lime and black pepper tuna was my only nourishment that evening. As I ate I was reminded of Pi, trapped on a raft with a man-eating tiger, and spent my dinner quietly pondering on how our fortunes were not so dissimilar. I would have held a long and lingering grudge against the aforementioned society had they not supplied a giddy array of alcohol and food at their post-debate reception. But, munching on my fifteenth guacamole dipped Dorito washed down with an iced Malibu, the anger subsided.

So friends, what have I learnt? What wisdom can I impart? Only that I came to realise in my journeys that it was those two packets of powdered soup and that can of red bull that began my life in Trinity College, indeed that made me the woman that I am today. They are my roots, my heritage and I am proud of where I came from. So, young freshers, be safe in the knowledge that free food is as solid a foundation for your college adventure as any. It has always served me well.