The difference between a student bar and a Spoons pub.

Being home from uni is great. Home cooked food, your own bed, seeing your family, no bills or rent to worry about, internet that works... the list is endless. But one thing that changes significantly is the social life.

Uni seems to be its own little world. It doesn't conform to the usual day-to-day rhythms of life. Sleeping patterns are disjointed and a complete myth. A healthy diet is restricted to those who have a budget that can afford a weekly intake of fresh fruit and vegetables. The uni household will very rarely have an internet speed above 2mbps, ours was actually recorded at 0.4 at one point. Alcohol seems to be cheaper than water and the student bar becomes a second home. Just a blurry pit of booze infused dreams and alcohol driven confessions of opinions or happenings in life which should never be brought to surface. I will admit to being the one guy of the group who is particularly partial to exclaiming a particular emotion towards another individual. This it not to say I regret it.

Back home, or in my case at least, the most common place for a piss up is the local Wetherspoons pub, 'The Oxted Inn'. It provides cheap beers, cheap food and a relatively comfortable setting. However, there are significant differences between getting pissed up at a student bar and getting trollied at a spoons.

The student bar is described in a previous blog but if you have not read it, and why wouldn't you have?!, here is a very brief outline. It is cheap and it is the only point of the week a student is actually content with life.

The Wetherspoons (or spoons as it is commonly referred as) is in itself a different level of pub. The theme of cheap booze still follows as with the student bar but with it comes 'non-students'. Most of them are fine. They are usual people with usual lives working usual jobs with a usual view on life. Some, however, are not.

For example...

You have the 'lone ranger'. This is the person who simply sits by himself with a pint and makes no act of humanly function. He (and it usually is a he) simply sits with one hand on his pint, his other resting on the bar and stares aimlessly into the abyss of the predictable furnishings of a spoons pub. He only moves to take a sip of alcohol or to purchase another. This is it. You don't pity the Lone Ranger because you know he is content with life. Not happy, not sad, just content.

There is the 'self-communicator'. This individual is similar to the Lone Ranger in that he or she (usually he) is sat by himself with an alcoholic beverage. Yet this remarkable being is able to give himself such wonderful company. He will stare at his pint muttering to himself before shouting a word or phrase out in a reply to his muttering. This goes on for hours and provides a humorous but slightly concerning watch. He will have no concern over anyone else in the pub but himself. He will firmly believe that his conversation is quite alright and that no others input is needed. I should add that this person is normally a raging alcoholic and doesn't begin his chattering until he is a few pints down the line.

Now the groups you get are normally pretty universal in any spoons pub. You have the work colleagues, self-explanatory.

You have the students who are either studying closely or back from studying having a catch-up with others whilst on uni break.

You have the teens.  The teens are those who have just turned the legal age for alcoholic consumption and think they are the kings of banter and booze and have all the knowledge into getting wavy; I absolutely detest this word by the way but some people think it is in fact an appropriate term for getting drunk.

You have the alcoholics. They are usually in at opening and long gone before the evenings comes about. Strength in numbers seems to be their motto as they are always in a group of 3-7.

There is the 'family'. This is normally an innocent family who have come in a little too late to get a bite to eat and the parents watch on in horror as the pub floods with people ready to get drunk ASAP. They try to continue normal conversation but it is usually hopeless. They just urge their innocent and perfect kids to eat up so they can leave the abomination they find themselves in before shaking their heads as they leave.

Perhaps the most irritating group is what I like to call 'The Wankers'. The wankers are those with a ridiculous haircut and a dress sense which consists of tight jeans, Nike Roshes and some fancy designer top that they have grossly overpaid for. They are often laughing at other groups so that they can inflict they superiority over the pub. They think they are god's gift to women and thus a complete wanker. They spend their nights either discussing how amazing a lads holiday was four years ago or what female they have recently had sexual relations with.

This mixture of people is not usually seen in a student bar, everyone is there after a week at uni and just wants to get drunk. At a spoons the motives for drinking are completely varied. That is not to say either are better or worse. I love both the student bar and the Spoons. But the biggest difference is that I hope to be only in the spoons during my 20s. Any later and I might become the Lone Ranger or worse, the Self-communicator.

A traditional uni birthday

Birthdays are usually the most anticipated day of the year for the majority. Yet as you get older you usually find that they lose the excitement that they originally had until you get to your 18th.

Birthdays from 0-12 usually consist of burgers and ice-cream with the occasional birthday party thrown in every couple of years. At 12-17 they lose a lot of what they originally had and the presents normally dominate the day more than they should. 18+ they become something completely different.

At uni, birthdays aren't always seen as a positive for the individual having the birthday but more of an opportunity. Presents are very rarely anything but a drink in the pub but this is not to mean that it is a kind gesture of buying them there favourite drink.

My birthday started with myself buying a pint and everyone sat together enjoying a simple beverage. Then out of nowhere there were two shots waiting for me on the table. One being black sambuca, a vile liquid thick with everything evil in the world. The second was chili sambuca, a bright green acid that when the disgusting taste has passed a burning goes about destroying your mouth and throat. Luckily the following two drinks were a pint of Carlsberg and my favourite, a pint of Guinness. A few shots of tequila followed and a couple more pints and then the pricks of the group had there say in buying me a drink. Joe, whose birthday drinking session is luckily tonight, bought me something called 'liquid cocaine'. This is a shot made of tequila, gin, vodka and baileys. Then a little bit is extracted so that when necking the shot, the extracted bit is then snorted through a shortened straw. The pain cannot be described in normal langauge but to simplify it, it is not a pleasant experience. The last drink was something called a 'gas chamber'. This is in essence flaming sambuca but the fumes are kept so that after drinking the shot the fumes are inhaled, this time luckily through the mouth. A few pints followed and the rest of the night was left for me to try and digest the foul drinks and for them to laugh at my drunk sayings and doings.

One of the main benefits of having a birthday at uni is that firstly you don't have to worry about coming home to your mum or dad waiting to judge you or see you embarrassing yourself. Another is that if you are living with the people who are giving you the drinks, it is their responsibility to get you home safely so you can get yourself to a proper screwed up state.

So to finish up, if you have a mate who has a birthday coming up don't just settle for buying them a drink. Buy them the strongest/ most repulsive drink that is available as if you're going to spend money on someone, make sure it is well spent. However, this is not to say you shouldn't look after them. As soon as they get that drunk they are your responsibility. So just make sure they get home and that when you are there then anything goes.

A drunken story

Last Friday (23rd) we found ourselves in the usual scenario of being in the pub, drinking and exchanging jokes at eachothers expense. I was drinking beer at a slow pace as I was hoping to be in the pub for a good few hours and didn't want to peak too early. However, some of the group were planning on going clubbing later in the evening. They tried to persuade me to come but after my first week back at uni I just wanted a chilled out drinking session.

Who was going and who was not was pretty much decided. All apart from one individual, Aaron. Now Aaron originally said no to this and was drinking his double-vodka lemonades at a comfortable pace for the same reasons as I was. But after an hour of chatting and contemplating, Aaron thus decided that clubbing would be a good idea and decided to go. However, there was a problem. When Aaron goes clubbing he can't just be tipsy or even drunk. He has to be absolutely obliterated, so that any hint of self-regard/ safety are long gone. He was though at this point in the night barely fuzzy from what he had consumed and with there being only an hour and a half left till departure, he had to speed up his intake of alcohol. What wasn't expected was the sheer rise in speed of consumption. Originally he was buying one drink to last about half an hour. Now he was buying two at a time to last for 15 minutes before getting another 2. So by the time it came to his leaving he was pretty much seeing double of everything and his eyes glazed over with what I can only imagine being vodka, as I doubt there was any room left for it to go within his body. But either way, he felt he had succeeded in getting him to the state he felt was acceptable to go clubbing and they departed.

3 hours later.

I returned from the pub with some grub and set about eating it whilst drinking some water so that the hangover the next day could be tamed a little. After this was finished I decided to head to bed at around 2am.

Then it all kicked off.

I heard what can only be described as a mixture of a heavy metal scream and the sound of a gag. Yet though this surprised me at first, I immediately knew who was the culprit and decided to investigate. I got to the bathroom on the first floor and found it locked so with a little pick locking, I opened it. What I saw was a hairy blob on the floor with its head buried in the toilet bowl vomiting furiously.

Aaron loves a good flirt

'Mate, you alright?'
The reply was just a desperate 'uh huh'.
So I tapped him on the back and left to go back to bed.
What followed was enormous banging coming from the same bathroom Aaron was in. I decided to just leave him to do what he wants but was told the following morning through another source what was actually happening.

Aaron had decided to take a shower but somehow was struggling to close the shower door, even though there is no lock of any kind and just needs to be pulled towards him to close it. So all
I can imagine is that he was pulling it so furiously that it was bouncing back out the hinge, making him think something was wrong. A very surprised Abbie was then the unfortunate person to open the bathroom door to see him now naked and very confused to why the shower door wasn't closing and wasn't even switching on. He hadn't switched on the correct switch and just stood there in bewilderment. Abbie then helped him switch on the shower and left him. She returned 20 minutes later to find him naked and sleeping on the floor of the bathroom in the pitch black.

Adding to supplies

Next morning.

Myself and Billy first met him on the sofa looking pretty awful and asked him what happened and what time he got back. He didn't know and had no recollection of what had happened the night before and that someone apart from his mother had now seen him naked. So Billy and I decided to see what state his room was in.

Firstly there was sick on his bed and his bin had a lovely puddle of the previous nights dinner and vodka. However the most shocking element was walking into his room. I was wearing slippers, Billy was not and he quickly commented on how the majority of the carpet was soaking wet.
'Maybe its water?' Billy asked in hoping that I would agree.
'Maybe it's not?' I replied starting to giggle. Billy on the other hand, did not find it very amusing.
So to clarify we asked Aaron what the substance on his floor was and it was indeed urine. However, the smell, according to Aaron did not occur until the Monday after and he has informed me that it still lingers.

He did attempt to clean up mind you. He used Billy's flannel which he claims, 'no one used'. He has now promised to purchase a new one for Billy who is distraught that one of his Christmas presents has been used to soak up urine.

This story is pretty tame in comparison to others but I thought I better start light and build up to the really ridiculous events that have happened.

Back to the student bar!

Tonight returns the most enjoyable time of the week, the Friday night student bar drinking session.

Uni students usually come in three forms. The clubbers, the pubbers and the non-drinkers.

Non-drinkers are a rare breed but do exist in the bowels of the library or eating some fancy meal with the money they have that wasted on booze.

The clubbers usually just like pre-drinking themselves into oblivion, clubbing and hoping for themselves to wake up next to a new friend, this applying mostly to guys, girls are far more sensible.

The pubbers, like myself, enjoy going to a pub, drinking their body weight in alcohol, grabbing some food and somehow finding their home. It seems to be that no matter how drunk I have got in the past, I might not know my name or where I was 5 minutes prior, I WILL find my home. Sometimes with an injury from falling over en route or some sign or traffic cone that asked to come along with me. If you aren't the one who does do this, you will have a friend who does. Mine being a lad called Aaron, or 'Sat-nav', this being due to his ability to find anywhere after alcohol is administered. His collection within his room at the end of the first year of uni would be enough to compete with any builders supplies.

Our 'local' is a student bar called ''Quids', which sounds promising from the title which is due to 99% of shots being a pound each.

The usual will be a £2 pint of Carlsberg for myself and the others a £2.50 pint of Strongbow for the cider drinkers.

The night will usually start with keen and polite conversation with the pints going down at a surprisingly quick pace, maybe the odd shot now and then. This is then followed by the odd submission in the juke box. Oasis being a cliche but common choice.

After the 5/6th pint, the pace of consumption will slow a little bit and the banter to turn sour.

Every group has 'that' guy who always seems to get the piss taken out of.

We luckily have about 3/4 which means the nights are never dull, the group being of about 8-15, depending on work load etc.

At pint 7/8 some will go to a club, some might have 'hit the wall' and others just carry on with the banter flowing. The banter can vary from someone doing something ridiculous during the week, or anytime really, or if you are like our friend Chris, have a Dad called Brian who likes cooking and so happens to be bald, and have this escalate into him being Brian the bumder. Might not be funny to you but for us it could lift the mood on any situation. (Nothing homosexual in cooking or being bald by the way)    

At pint 9/10 it is usually time to leave. However this is not before getting a tower-burger meal. Now you might ask what this is? It is simply a chicken burger with a hash brown inserted. Might sound simple but it is hands down the only thing you want at that stage of the night.

The next part I'm not entirely sure about but we seem to find our way home and into bed. I can't really elaborate anymore on that.

The next morning is usually a hangover, a cup of coffee, a bacon sandwich and a good laugh at the clubbers who 'were so close to pulling' the night before but in essence walked a girl home for her to say, goodnight and close the door.

This happens every weekend without fail. Tonight is my first since being home for Christmas and I can't wait!