Student life is chaos

“Did the second ticket come through okay?”

I nod and star both emails as my Mum packs away her laptop. My mind is already frantically trying to place names of people I vaguely knew in my teen years, who I was certain were going to be at Warwick. I start crafting the perfectly-awkward-and-yet-not-as-awkward-as-going-alone back-up text. 

Hey insert name here! I know we haven’t spoken in ages, but I heard from X that you were going to Warwick, and turns out I am too! It would be so nice/cute/awesome to catch up, I actually have tickets for Dave Gorman at the Arts Centre if you’re interested? Let me know how you’re doing! (xx – optional). 

My Dad walks in with two cups of tea and places one on the Shakespeare coaster to my left. The tea spills over the edge of my mug as I try to pick it up. 

“So, early happy birthday! Hasn’t it worked out well that your all-time favourite comedian is at Warwick Arts Centre, just after the chaos of your first week?” 

“It’ll be something to look forward to after all the excitement of Welcome Week has worn off.” My Mum peers over the pages of her book to give me a reassuring smile. “And you’ll definitely have met so many people by then, you’ll be spoilt for choice as to who to take with you.” 

That’s the bit I’m not excited for. One week cooped up in the highly intense and pressured environment that they call “Warwick Welcome Week” will definitely be enough socialising to last me, until I inevitably have to act out a passage from The Winter’s Tale with a lovely-and-equally-passionate-but-very-theatery-and-therefore-super-extroverted joint-honours student, in a cramped and slightly stale seminar room. 

Dave Gorman looks at me from the cover of my Modern Life is Goodish boxset, which is propped up by my grey suitcase and crates of kitchenware. It frustrates me that he’s one of the funniest comedians out there, as I am reluctantly persuaded to endure awkward small talk before and after the show with someone I’ve only just met, or haven’t spoken to since I was 15. 

* * *

Blanca pokes her head out of a ringed sculpture just outside the Arts Centre. 

“Blanca, hold that position, let me get a photo!” 

I’m scrambling to open my phone camera as Blanca cracks up. Next minute, we’re trying to take a selfie as if we are what I assume to be an artistic interpretation of a two-headed hula hooping monster. I graze my hand on the pavement as we untangle ourselves from our wild pose. 

“I honestly don’t think I’ve laughed so hard in ages. At the show, I mean, you’re not funny at all.” Blanca flops onto a nearby bench, poking me on the shoulder.  

“I told you Dave Gorman was awesome! I’ve been desperate to see him for ages, and I thought it would be so cute to go together. And you were so nice to me in the kitchen on my first day, so you were a deserving candidate to behold this esteemed honour of being my comedy buddy.” 

Blanca smiles. 

“It was kind of nice to step away from the uni bubble actually.” Blanca looks contemplative. “You know, not do something that has the pressure of making friends or looking at reading lists. I think I needed that breather from the chaos.” 

“Yeah, I agree. I love how manic Welcome Week is – more than I thought I would. But it is cool to just forget about uni for a sec. Be immersed in the transformative power of live entertainment, some would say.” I gesture my hands wildly, as if transforming the Piazza itself into a theatre. 

“Alright, Shakespeare.” I can tell Blanca’s suppressing a giggle. 

We sit and just watch people of all ages and backgrounds trickle out of the Arts Centre. I look up at the big screen to check the time, but instead I’m faced with frilly, avant-garde regency dresses and quizzical, tragic expressions. 

“Wuthering Heights looks like it’s on later this year at the Arts Centre. Fancy going with me?”