Originally appeared in print, April 2020. Illustration by Ellecia Vaughan.
The sun peeks through your blinds early in the morning. Peace and serenity creep into your body as birds chirp outside your window; the world is beginning to wake. The smell of your coffee brewing from the kitchen wafts through your house as you prepare yourself for the day. Maybe a cheeky morning meditation or some journaling when you get up is on your to-do list. Life is quiet. It is you, and only you, in your space.
Let me now paint you another picture: you wake up, unintentionally, to your neighbours doing construction work in the back garden at 8:30am. Stomping feet upstairs ensure that you do not fall asleep again. You hear various voices, some familiar, and others confirming that yes, your friend’s sneaky link stayed over the night before. Showers are turned on as your STEM housemates rush frantically out to class.In contrast, the arts and humanities students make themselves a relaxing breakfast as they don’t have their singular class of the day until 3pm (writing as a history student, yes it’s true). The group-chat with your house members is sending your phone into a state of frenzy as somebody asks who’s mouldy bread and hummus in the kitchen has not been thrown out yet. Ah yes, good old student living.
As a second year student who lived in Trinity Halls last year the hunt for a house started in April. We sifted through Daft on the daily, looking at house after house and where we thought our second year would be spent. A particularly memorable one was an apartment just off O’Connell St. It had “walls” that were made up of what seemed like poster board and only stretched five feet off the ground, leaving ample space for your flatmates to peer in the top and see you in all your glory. There was also what seemed like a make-shift mezzanine floor, which we convinced ourselves would be the so-called “shag pad”, insinuating that whoever had a special friend staying over would get the bed and the person living up there would move for the evening. This also, may I add, was open plan so had no doors for that matter. In the end, we decided that maybe living in some nineteenth century, fake-wall and missing-door nightmare was not the one.
The search was stressful; one house after another resulted in failed attempt after failed attempt. That was until, one day, a seven person house popped up on Daft. Yes, seven. It was ideal, there were roughly seven people in our friendship group that were willing to all move in together for the upcoming year. We viewed the house, put security deposits down and were ready to move in by July 1.
Settling into a new environment is hard for most, but coming from the luxury of student accommodation, with heating and hot water on demand and all your friends at your doorstep, was a big jump. Through the last eight months of living here our heating has been broken for half. Most of December was spent shivering in our rooms, wearing three sweatshirts, socks, tights and joggers to bed, and still being cold. We were truly living the reality of every Victorian child and were two steps away from developing consumption.
Living with so many has its moments, but truly and honestly it is so much fun. These are the memories that stay with you long after your four years in college, longer than the memories of dirty pots and pans. If I were to give any advice to people either questioning whether to move out of home next year or looking for somewhere new to stay, do it! Nothing is ever as stressful as it seems in the moment.
I’ll now leave you with a story that happened in my house only this week. An eighth member made an appearance. He was a housemate that did not pay any rent and ate half of our food: a little mouse. On three separate occasions the mouse was spotted and various methods were put into practice trying to get rid of him. Surprisingly the YouTube clip of a high pitched frequency to “get rid of mice” did not work. The creature was chased with brushes and oven trays in an attempt to get rid of him, until eventually he was left to roam our kitchen freely for two days, banishing the rest of us to live off food that did not require refrigeration, heating or cooking. Thankfully, the mouse was gotten rid of all of his own accord. He wasn’t concerned about the traps – he knew the gas bill was going to be too high next month.
These memories, though sometimes terrifying, are what last forever.
