Living in a "hall of residence"

at a university is not for the faint hearted now. There was a dance at one recently. It began at eight in the evening and officially ended at midnight. Yes, shock! Horror! 

Apparently twenty-seven residents who live across the street from the venue complained about the noise. Really?

When I was at teacher training college there was no residence for the students. You lived at home, with relatives, in rental accommodation or - in my case - you lived in a boarding school. (I was "earning" my board and lodging as a very junior housemistress.) I therefore did not see a "hall of residence" until I went to university on the other side of the world. 

It was not your typical student hall of residence. It was a "post-graduate" residence. I was one of the youngest, if not the youngest, student there. There were "students" in their forties and fifties. There was someone writing a book about aged care who was close to retirement, another doing some research who was about the same age. Most of the residents came from other parts of the world. The place was, as such places go, very quiet. In the evenings we retired to our rooms and worked. It is what we were there for. 

I eventually moved from there to a similar establishment that was self-catering. I occasionally saw other students in the communal kitchen. Once in a while someone would suggest a visit to whatever free entertainment was available. None of us had any money for frivolities. Very occasionally we would spend 65p on a ticket to a concert or the theatre.

Back in Downunder I had no intention of returning to university but it became increasingly obvious I needed to know much more about the law, international law, tort law, law and medicine, law and the social sciences. I sighed. I put in an application. I applied to a hall of residence too. Accepted into these places I found myself a little older, but not that much older, and a little less happy with the noise. I solved the problem by spending long hours in the Law library. Right around me the youngest students, mostly straight out of school, were enjoying life. 

At least it seemed that way. It did not take long to discover all the problems they were facing. There were students who were happy and working hard. There were students who were not happy and still working hard. There were students who discovered the courses they had chosen were not right for them, who discovered alcohol and drugs. I was not really surprised by any of this. There was enough in the media to tell me it would be going on.  I expected social activities. The law had changed and there was now a student "bar" on the premises and in the university grounds. I never visited the former and I still do not know where the latter is! I wasn't being a prude. I don't drink alcohol and even someone just a few years older would not have been welcome in the residence bar. I suspect it was also where the cannabis was exchanged. Hard drugs were not in evidence but cannabis was rife. I would come back from a Saturday in the library and find someone had opened my bedroom window from the outside so I would not have a foul smelling room. They were pretty good about that. I knew to keep my mouth shut - and to listen when someone banged on the door looking for help.

I did some more post-grad work at another university and was asked to live in a small self-catering unit of fourteen students. It was quieter but there were still issues. The Asian girls tended to be very quiet and tidy. The boys were less so but still quieter and tidier than the more local students. Those students would leave a mess in the kitchen and the "music" would be full blast occasionally. I did not like it because I am a "quiet" person but I recognised it was part of life in residence. The only thing complaining would have done was isolate me. 

I am not sure I could do it now. I think I am too old for noisy, communal living. I dread the thought of being bundled into a nursing home and living communally again. I like my own space, my own quiet. 

If the student who lives next door to me now wants a party though what would I do? 

I would not complain about a one off on a Saturday night the way those other residents in the area did. I would try to remember what it was like being away from parental supervision and control and how we damn well needed to do it. It was part of growing up. It is only when you go on doing it to excess it becomes a real problem.