Sniffy reminisces

After writing about Mort and Jo during my tirade on cast iron French "cookware", I reckon it'd be ok to continue my trip down memory lane and letting Blogworld into my past - the student days at least. It's the weekend and not many are around to witness this little diversion into real blogging.

I attended Leeds University between 1988 and 1991 where I studied Biochemistry - I got a 1st class honours degree and graduated top of my class, don't you know. I followed this up by doing my PhD in Biological Sciences at Warwick University between 1991 and 1994. I graduated with my PhD in 1996.

So that's the academic bit out of the way, now for the interesting stuff.

I was a complete geek when I went away to Leeds, having only just turned 18. I had no dress sense, a terrible hair do and I'd just started wearing a brace on my upper teeth (great for confidence boosting when you're shy). Still, at least I didn't look like this:

Anna in the bedroom of my flat, the weekend I moved to Leeds

I'm an evil bitch.

To even things up, here's me on my graduation day:

So what happened in between? Let's think. My first year, I was a real swot and I hardly went out, although I did go to the Union occasionally. It was there that I discovered a taste for bitter and a love of pool and stationery shops. I didn't smoke, but I always smoked loads when I was out drinking.

In my first week at university, I had my first encounter with Le Creuset pans, I met my first person from Northern Ireland (Mort), I realised that people from Sunderland were pretentious wankers and that Polish names are impossible to pronounce. I also met David.

David was the epitome of cool: he walked into the reception of the Biochemistry department where we'd all gathered; heads turned. He asked me if he was in the right place and I wondered why he was bothering to speak to me because I was a turd, but it turned out that he just picked out the gobbiest person there. He was the nicest bloke I ever met and he's been my friend ever since. He looked after me during my time at university and we were inseperable.

My flatmates were:

• Carolyn from Kidderminster, studying English & philosphy. Her boyfriend (to this day) is the lovely Simon; they're a lovely couple with lovely families and I wish I could get to see them more.
  
• Ela from Birmingham, studying Psychology. She was a strange one and she could be sarcastic and moody. But I liked Ela a lot, she made me laugh and we used to have a bit of smoking club going on. I shared accommodation with Ela and Carolyn right through my time in Leeds. I think I might have fancied Ela, only I'm not sure because I didn't have hormones or feelings until I was about 29.
  
• Kath(man) from Sunderland, studying being a complete cunt. I disliked her from the moment I met her: blonde, Libra, stuck up. She was a self-proclaimed working class heroine, whose daddy's accountant made sure she got a full maintenance grant. Lazy, useless cow.
  
• Jo from Ilkeston, studying surveying and baking.
• Mort from Limavady, Ireland ("IT'S BRITAIN!"), studying men and biochemistry. I thought we'd have some sort of common bond because we were doing the same subject, but I was so wrong.
  
• Caroline, who was mad. By our third year, me Ela and Carolyn had got rid of the cunts and needed a spare bod to pay the rent for the attic room in the house we were renting. We got Caroline. Caroline was deaf and listened to the TV with the volume turned right up. She ate with her mouth open - really noisily. She spoke to herself in different voices. The bathroom was next to the attic room and we could here her yabbering onto herself, it was fucking terrifying and I even had paranoid nightmares about her getting me through a secret passageway in the walk-in cupboard in my bedroom.
• The tramp in the outside toilet. Yes, our last house had an outside toilet and there was a tramp living in it. Our landlord did the stupid thing of chucking his stuff into the bin wagon when he discovered him. Of course, the poor bloke returned that night and we all petrified of the gaunt face that appeared at the kitchen window, demanding "Where's my stuff?".
  

More on Morticia
Mort was obsessed with David to the point that it was very scary. She used to lock herself in her bedroom and cry when he went straight home after dropping us off at the flat instead of coming in for a coffee, pathetic twat. On one occasion in our second year, we were out clubbing and David came rushing up to me:

"Mort's just collared me! She backed me into a corner, got really close and asked me if I found her attractive. She wouldn't leave it, what can I do?"

"I dunno. I'm going to get a drink, do you want one? Have you got any fags?"


David
You see, me and David have always supported each other emotionally, generally by taking the piss out of each other or fuelling each other's dependencies on nicotine, booze or prescription drugs. Despite being such close friends, we don't really speak about "feelings" - mainly because he'd laugh at me and he's from Barnsley and blokes from Barnsley aren't like that. We don't really talk about feelings, but we do compare relative levels of misery these days. Sometimes we can make each other laugh so much that we're sick.

Me and David used to get cash from our mates to buy pressies when somebody had a birthday coming up. We'd spot something in a department store, ask for the cash, but buy it from Barnsley market for half the price.


The others
The main other players were Peter "Whippy" Wright, who was vile. He had quite curly hair that he let grow so it was all wavy, we called him Mr Whippy. He had flap-shots from porn mags on his bedroom wall. He was a slob, but he was very competitive, especially when playing badminton.

Melanie was a lovely, lovely girl from Newtownards in Northern Ireland. She had beautiful auburn hair, which she kept cropped. She was tall and thin and could've been a catwalk model. Such a lovely natured lass, I once floored her while dancing in a nightclub. It was an accident; I didn't realise she was behind me and I had this ridiculous way of dancing that meant that I needed a 4 foot exclusion zone around me. She breached the exclusion zone and I headbutted her. Luckily, she'd already dished out her quota of punishment beatings for that week, so she let me off.


Growing up
During my three years as an undergraduate, I started to mature a little bit. I wasn't such a geek and I learned that I could go out and enjoy myself and still study. I got some sort of dress sense and gave in to the fact that my hair is curly and that I'd be better making the most of it rather than fighting it.

I discovered and came to love The B52's.

After living in denial and calling myself a "social smoker" for many years, I succumbed and bought my first packet of fags while sober one afternoon in January 1991. They were Silk Cut and by June, when I was sitting my finals, I found myself smoking up to 50 Marlboro (red) each day.

I studied very hard, a bit too hard I think, and I was a bit burned out by the time I graduated.

I still don't know what I want to be to this day.

I enjoyed it though, it was a wonderful experience and I'm glad that I'm still in contact with most of the people who mattered most during that time.


Photo edit
Ok, here are a couple more photos. Firstly, this is my class on the day of our graduation. Hardly St Elmo's Fire, but there you go:

To my right is Sue, to my left is somebody who everybody thought would graduate as top student that year (simply because she was never out of the library), then there's Mort and Mel (the Armalite Sisters), to their left is Alison (who really gave me daggers and ignored me when my brilliance was confirmed when the results were announced).

And this photo shows me, David (to my right with the oddest expression on his face EVER - he'll KILL me if he ever finds out I've even got this photo in my possession, let alone put it on the internet), Whippy (who'd had a wash and a hair cut) and Mort (who'd obviously caught up on some sleep):

Yes, dresses/skirts were compulsory for the graduation, although I'm not sure how I got away with that hair don't.

Mature student Sniffy
You know, if I was a mature student and went back to live in that sort of environment as I am now, I'd fucking kill Kath by the end of day one. How is it that you're so tolerant at that age? Is it because you're naive, because you haven't yet been let down by people, haven't learned the hard way that most people are cocks? Still, I wonder if I'd have got anywhere with Ela... she had quite greasy hair for what I can remember, I probably wouldn't think much to that these days.

These days, you still look back and remember things as they were and can't contemplate tragedy striking any of those fit and healthy people you had such good times with. I made contact with Melanie again a few years back; she had been going out with a lovely bloke and I knew they were engaged and had planned to move to Scotland for James to do his PhD. It turned out that they did get married and had started a family before James died from malignant melanoma a couple of years ago.

I'm off to see if I can find Mel's e-mail address and see if I can track down Whippy on the Sex Offenders Register.