Art students

College Times


Fitting in in college

I went back to college as a mature student in my twenties.  Never before had I felt old until I spent time in the Arts block in Trinity. (Also, never had I seen so many orange people. It was like the aftermath of some terrible Sunny D explosion.)



English students can be very intense.  Very arty.  Very interesting with their outfit choices. .  Sometimes they cry -usually while reading.  I would catch students alone in one the small gardens reading (bonus points if it’s Ulysses) photogenically and utterly engrossed (extra bonus points if up one of the trees). “I’m in Trinity.  I’m wearing tight jeans.  I’m smoking a pipe.  Ironically.”


Now do not think I’m against Trinity students or intense artiness, far from it.  I wanted to be one.  I wanted to be intense and have views about stuff.  I wanted to care about issues and be… earnest.  However that was not possible. I don’t care. I’m apathetic and lazy.  I’ll just go along with my friend’s points of view and beliefs because I assume they’ve considered them better than I have.  I look at politicians and protesters and students in tutorials and think “It must be exhausting having all those opinions.”


Art students



One day I forgot my glasses and was squinting at the wall trying to see the time.  I looked at a young man with an auburn afro and he flinched.  Slightly concerned, I made the same face in the bathroom mirror and discovered I looked like an angry monkey crossed with Gollum. Like the troll of the arts block.skipping


I now feel like perhaps I was just having some sort of quarter life crisis - the sudden and shocking realisation that I was no longer 16.  I remedied this by buying leather and bleaching my hair platinum blonde. I once wore leather thigh high boots to a history lecture with a dress and leather jacket and grunged up eye makeup.  I went from Arts block troll to Arts block (down on her luck) Hooker.  Fitting in is hard.

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Hippos back end

How not to be shat on by hippopotami

How not to be shat on by hippopotami.

How not to be shat on by hippopotami. Funny blog post and guide and personal experience.

This is more difficult than you would expect. First and foremost – avoid hippos.

If you cannot avoid them – avoid the back end of a hippo.

If you cannot avoid the back end, wear appropriate clothing and expect showers.


In my life I have shat on by hippos FIVE times.  This is unusual.   For the record I do not work in a zoo or live by a watering hole.  Each time I have been shat on I have forgotten both rule one, two and three.  How, you ask, could someone forget this after being shat on? I do not know. I suspect it’s because my brain is so traumatized by the experience it’s trying to repress it all.

Facts about hippo shit:

Hippos back end

Guide to the dangers of hippos

Hippos know you are behind them – water is a reflective surface.

How to remove hippo shit from clothes:  YOU CAN’T.

Here is a scientificky explanation of hippo’s poop activity

Changing room cartoon

This is why I hate clothes shopping

Changing room woes

I was once trapped in the Next changing room for an hour. I had become terribly stuck in shapewear two sizes too small for me and had to phone a friend to come and save me.  She had to brace herself against the wall to heave the blasted shapewear off and it still took the combined force of both of us to set me free.  I wonder what the women in the other changing rooms thought we were doing.