B: Lancaster, 1991-94

I did the round of farewell drinks with friends. They were a few
years younger than me and excited that someone they knew was going to
university. But I hadn't known any of them for long, and on that
morning in October I wasn't sure if I was doing the right
thing.


My dad took me there, helping with my two suitcases of books
and clothes. We took a train from Croydon to Victoria, then a tube to
Euston where we picked up the Inter-City and headed for
Lancaster.


Walking out of the station, I saw the County Hotel and the
bridge. We hailed a taxi and as we drove through town I noticed the
castle, and buildings like the Merchants' pub where I would later hang
out. The city subsided into countryside and then we went uphill through
woodland.


The driver dropped us off in a car park. The campus was grey,
concrete. It was made of nine colleges and mine was Bowland, after the
forest. At reception they gave me directions and a set of keys. We
walked across Alexandra Square to the Bowland Tower annexe, and took a
lift to the second floor. My dad soon left.


The room had shelves, wardrobe, a desk and a bed. The brick
walls were painted white, and a small patch of mould grew from the
ceiling. I unpacked, opened the door and introduced myself to the girls
on my corridor.


"Hi." A girl stood in the hallway. "I'm Anne-Marie."



We went down to the caf?. That night I went to Bowland bar
with Sara, who was in the next room. She had dark, frizzy hair like
mine, but she was taller.


I don't remember what I did the next day; enrolled, or cashed
my grant cheque probably. That night I went to the bar and met two
other girls, Nancy and Nicola. The rest of freshers' week was lost in a
drunken haze, but I do recall a boating trip on Lake
Windermere.


+++


In the first year I studied three subjects, majoring in
English with history and philosophy. My literature tutor was a man
called Chris Baldick, one of the few people who really encouraged me.
The first assignment I wrote was a version of Sleeping Beauty (inspired
by Angela Carter's 'The Bloody Chamber').


By spring I was again having doubts - I was bored, and
lonely. I thought about leaving, just getting a flat somewhere. But I
didn't want to let down my parents, as I was the first person in my
family to go to university. So I got drunk instead, and made other
friends like Lucy.


+++


That autumn, 1992, I moved into a shared house on West Road,
between the station and the Marsh estate. I had eight flatmates; Nicola
and Nancy, Yvonne, and the boys from the annexe - Tim, Phil, Graham,
James and Sam. It was a large house and the central heating was faulty,
so it was often cold. With so many tenants, arguments were common and
bills impossible to settle.


The living room was a seventies throwback, with leather
sofas, silver curtains and a minibar. We had a lot of parties there. I
was doing acid, speed and Es but drinking was what I liked best. Now in
my second year, I was studying literature full-time but my attendance
was pretty poor. I read widely but had little interest in critical
theory and even less talent for essays. I began writing poems which
interested me more.


+++


Next summer I spent a month in Spain with Lucy, Vanessa, Phil
and Loz. My other flatmates were returning to campus but I decided to
stay at West Road. Our landlord divided the flat in two. I shared with
Vanessa, Phil and a graduate called Noel.


I was still drinking but avoiding drugs. Lucy, who was my
closest friend at the time, had taken a year out of college and gone to
stay with her sister in Venezuela. I was trying to keep my head down
and catch up on my coursework.


Fed up with the cold, Phil's whingeing and the chaos in our
flat, I moved back into halls. I had a room in Furness College, on a
corridor of rugby-playing lads. They thought I was a bit of a hippy,
and when they were drunk they'd bang on my door and shout
insults.


Vanessa moved back to campus soon after me so at least I had
someone to go to the bar with. Our final exams were a blur and I vowed
never to study again. I was desperate to get away but had no idea what
to do next.


On the day results were announced, I found my name on a list
under 'Grades Withheld'. I went straight to the administrators, who
told me that I owed the library 50p and wouldn't get my degree until I
paid up. Furious, I told them I had paid the fine a week
ago.


They sent me to my head of year whom I'd never met. He
looked at my file and commented, "Hmm ? a rather erratic record, I must
say. Would you like to take a guess?"


"No I wouldn't" I replied. "Just tell me,
please."


My result was a 2:2 - a decent pass. I phoned my mother and
she sobbed down the line, saying I was a disappointment to her. My dad,
however, was simply glad that I'd finished the course.


I returned to my old house in West Road and signed on at the
Jobcentre. I considered staying permanently but everyone else was
leaving. My mother insisted on coming to the graduation ceremony with
my brother, who sulked all day. A week later I took a train to London
with Vanessa, carrying the same two suitcases I'd brought three years
before.