So you’ve arrived back in Bristol after a long summer of idle leisure, foreign travel (and perhaps a work placement or two) and you’re asked the inevitable three questions:
- How was your summer?
- Whereabouts are you living?
- …and in a house of how many?
For the former two questions our answers are fairly standard, but for the third, our situation is a little more unique. We live in a house of 12 people, and it definitely has its ups and downs – quite literally! With 5 sets of stairs, those living in the attic won’t be in need of a university gym membership this year and as most of the stairs creak with every step, it’s fairly easy to see why our house isn’t exactly a haven of tranquillity.
Twelve different timetables mean that coming home from a night out without disturbing somebody with a 9am lecture the next morning can be a problem. We faced this challenge last week after a particularly lively Bunker Monday. After raiding our fridges for a nutritious bedtime snack, we faced the daunting task of navigating the dark and creaking staircase in total silence to avoid the wrath of angry and sleep-deprived housemates.
Sleeping through the night is a luxury, but don’t count on a lie in. If you live on the first floor, as we do, you’ve now assumed the coveted role of ‘Postmistress’ and must collect and distribute 12 sets of postal deliveries whilst your housemates enjoy their uninterrupted sleep. As many of these deliveries arrive before 9am, our local postman has become accustomed not only to our monosyllabic responses but also to our varying states of undress.
In our house, living communally is more of an inevitability than a choice. After one week of attempting to separate 12 sets of identical Wilko cutlery, it became clear that resistance was futile. One thing that we are finding more difficult to share is television-viewing time, and due to an even gender split within the house, a kind of battle of the sexes has emerged in pursuit of living room domination. In an attempt to avoid combat, the girls have allowed a small area to fall under FIFA command, but irrespective of such peacekeeping tactics, our male counterparts continue to breach the lines of our Sex & the City territory.
Despite all this, living with eleven of your best friends isn’t all that bad; it’s actually a really great laugh. Even though your newly purchased packet of custard creams probably won’t make it through the night, at least you know you’ve got 11 more cupboards to raid.