“Why don’t we go for a walk down Wind Street, see what happens?”. I heard this the other day, and my housemate responded “What, exactly, is going to happen?”. This exchange of dialogue pretty much sums up my feeling about being a final year student. Yep, you’ve guessed it, this is a moany cynical piece. If you want to be reading something optimistic, I suggest you read something about Leicester City’s excellent performance in the Championship.

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                                             A walk down Swansea’s infamous Wind St. – what’s the worst that could happen?

Generally I’m fed up. The ‘YOLO’ self of first year seems an awful long way behind me, and instead I’m now face-to-face with a dissertation, debts, and a ‘real’ post-uni life. I remember one November night in first year when I braved checking my balance and found that I had 9 quid left. Luckily for me I’d just taken out a tenner so I could still afford a trip to see some shit film about vampires, werewolves and paedophilia that I just didn’t really understand. This was life before budgets. A life where a meal simply involved going to Zaika all you can eat Indian, cheap, but really bad quality, (as an aside, I’ve since discovered Mela on St Helen’s Road – starter, main, rice and naan for £7.95 – in my humble opinion, the best curry house in Swansea, and the finest onion bhajis I’ve ever tasted). A life where 3am was an early night. People say they feel old; I don’t, I just feel over being a student.

I don’t think I can be alone in this. Really, how many final year students can put their hands on their hearts and say honestly that they’d like to go back and start the whole undergrad process again? I’m going to take a punt and say 10%. Maybe a few more.  I know for some people, the uni life really is the dream – minimal responsibility, no real authority figures, and the opportunity to lose days at a time to Tesco Value vodka. But whilst I enjoyed this in my first year and the beginning of second year, it’s all beginning to become rather a chore. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a night out as much as anyone-  except that for me, a night out involves a few pints, a bit of pool, and somewhere to have a decent conversation about football, politics and the latest Hobbit film. My recent adventures to Wind Street have either ended in vomit (I’ve drunk far too much in an effort to make it more fun) or a walk home accompanied by a box of chicken that I neither particularly wanted or needed (I was far too sober and got a bit too annoyed with the constant jostling and pushing at the bar).

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#selfie #grumpyoldman #overfreshers

To be honest, I’m probably coming across as a miserable bloke who hates everything about being a student. That’s not the case. Being a student is fabulous – for many people it’s the first time they’ve been away from home and the first time they’ve been able to properly exercise free reign over their lives. I like being able to live my own life, to explore a new city, and to find the best bargains and student deals around. What’s more I enjoy reading, studying, meeting people from different backgrounds, and generally broadening my horizons, but as with all things, it has to end. When it’s all over, I’ll look back at Swansea with fond memories, but don’t expect to be seeing me downing a dirty pint ever again!

By Laurence Atkinson

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