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I realised just the other day that this summer marks a long and uneventful two years since leaving York. It’s been a scramble to find jobs and surviving on government funds in the worst time to be a graduate in a generation. However I’m still in contact with the six lads I spent almost every day with for my wonderful three years of being an undergraduate.
Every six months or so we all make the trek to York from our various corners and revisit our favourite hotspots and settle into our own stereotypes of drunkenness. Our meet up’s have come down to one phrase spawned by myself “It’s not a good night unless Callum goes missing” - whether it’s yet another female he’s enticed with his claims of break-dancing fame or he’s met a man in a pub and gone back to his to watch the boxing at 4am.
In truth, we spend most of our meet ups reminiscing over old nights out and anecdotes we’ll never forget thanks to a brilliantly diverse group of drunken idiots. The near misses, the conquests, the vomiting, the nakedness, the all day binges, the pranks and being the Millwall FC of our block (no one likes us and we don’t care as their slogan goes; we found out that we were referred to as ‘the mental corridor’ due to our mass binges). I’m aware this whole thing stinks of a “rugby team circle jerk” but hell, it was the best three years of my life.
There was a great moment at the end of third year, the night after our usual end of term insanity. All seven of us sat in the pub for one final time and displayed the perfect moment of three years of male bonding, having really become independent adults from naïve teenagers; one friend stood up to leave for a final time, tears began to roll down his face as he declared “I’ll miss you boys”. He walked out for the last time and we all sat in utter silence, all of us really taking in the reality that it was all over and genuinely feeling very upset - before a general heterosexual male chorus of “what a gay”: laugh, laugh, laugh.
It’s delightful we can still meet up but we all miss living together and rarely spending a night outside the group - my point would be, cherish your time at York: it flies by and never seems to last long enough. You’ll change a hell of a lot and if you’re lucky you’ve found mates for life.
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