Editors’ Letters: Memoirs of a night in

Lifestyle editor, Maya Westwick may well have reminisced about the trial and tribulations of a Warwick nightlife last term but in contrast I have had my fair share of Warwick nights in that I need to address vis-à-vis as it were…

An ode to the cider-stained cards on the table after a game of ring of fire and the coagulated substance that formed thereafter because I didn’t attend to it… The lovely cleaner passed on my apology via some well-aimed industrial cleaning product.

My passing regards must also go to the naïve drunken me, the me who thought that clashing two bottles together to add a crescendo to my far-from-verbatim singing, was ever a good idea?

I have had my fair share of Warwick nights in that I need to address vis-à-vis as it were…

I also give a fond embrace to those times tucked up in bed watching numerous repeats of Doctor Who to avoid the glaring demands of Medieval Literature. But there are those nights when the Medieval Literature really can’t wait any longer.

Film marathons with friends and popcorn really are the bee-knees but whatever mood I’m in, Zoolander will never ever be a good film. Sorry to the angry mob forming outside my door.

I treasured my nights-in during my first year the most but not just because I can actually remember them and they aren’t a mere smoky Neon haze but rather because it is was when my best relationships were forged.

Whether me and my friends want to have lengthy debates on what constitutes feminism or simply who got with who at Pop! the sky really was (and still is) the limit. And you might be surprised at the little unexpected nuances friends reveal about themselves over a late-night hot chocolate.

Since year two is now firmly established around me I can’t help but look back at those nights in and without my realising until now, I have used them as a template to build on.

My nights in this year are a concoction of group Bake Off marathons during which you must not breathe except to laugh at Mary Berry’s ludicrously sensual descriptions of food. At other times, you’ll find me cursing the complexity of Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams or sobbing over the ever-consistent pile of washing I have to do.

The luxuries of sharing a student house in second year are unprecedented if you know where to look. I’m looking up at our infamously-titled ‘quote wall’ as I write this, a conglomeration of golden witticism that me and my friends have come up with during term currently adorns the wall.

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Header image courtesy of: Flickr.com/ ttySO