This past week seems to have been a real success-period for people getting jobs/MA courses/deciding what exactly they're doing with their lives.
This time last year I lived in a terraced house with five floors and five other people. Our lives were fairly clichéd, exactly what you would expect of students. The house was clean and tidy but not immaculate. The wall paper had certainly seen better days. We built snowmen in winter and held barbecues in summer. Every so often a traffic cone or road sign would appear in our garage and then disappear a few days later, sometimes replaced with various other 'trophy' items - usually plastic swords or fancy dress masks, although we did once end up with a piano. The image of three boys pushing a piano through the streets of Durham appeared on nearly everyone's Facebook: I was amused until I discovered the three boys in question were in fact sitting in the kitchen below my room, toasting their acquisition with Redbull and cider.
We were close.
We used to mark off our deadlines (different for each person) on a big calendar and for that day, all six students would hold their breath nervously and cross their fingers. When important post arrived - PGCE and law course acceptance letters, interview invitations, exam results, etc - the same anticipation and nerves rattled throughout every floor in the house, no matter whose name was on the envelope. When one person did well, five other people celebrated the success as if it was their own.
One year later, we're often too busy to speak frequently. But when we do catch up, the conversation continues from last time as though the intermittent time never existed. Things are very different, of course: one is married whilst another has just broken up with his girlfriend of six years; one is already a successful lawyer whilst one is on the dole. But the intensity of friendships formed over cheap wine and ludicrous fancy dress costumes is still there.
One of our housemates died last November, of leukemia. It was ridiculously sudden (five days from symptoms to death, only two days from diagnosis to death. Those two days were spent unconscious on a life-support machine). I've blogged about Tom before, but I haven't blogged about our bid to raise money for Leukemia Research.
In January, when my car was on holiday in the garage I was given lifts into school by a PE teacher. She told me about a 10 mile run around a local city in order to raise money for charity - so I signed up that night, dug out my trainers* and - of course - set up the obligatory Facebook group to ask for sponsorship/support.
* I'd love to be able to run in my heels, but sadly given my appalling lack of coordination that would only lead to disaster.
Messages of support came flooding in, even from complete strangers. They were really inspiring. My housemates, though, went further. First one, then a second, then a third - "change the Facebook group name. I'm running with you." Even one from a girl who now lives in Germany - "I'll be there. Sign me up!" So, after three changes to the Facebook group, we are training like mad across the country. And it's so nice. We are divided by hundreds of miles at the moment - south coast(ish), north east coast, Germany, London - yet we stay in touch (through Facebook, of course!) reporting our progress, photos, routes, times and distances and generally keep each other going.
I love my friends.
I really think I hit the jackpot when I went to uni - I've never known such an incredible group of people! Their always-positive attitudes, willingness to help anyone and experience anything once, combined with wicked senses of humour make them fantastic to be around. University is what you make it, I think. I got very, very lucky on Day One with the people on my corridor and subsequently had the best three years possible.
