Scarfie days
OR: how the Hall made monsters of us all.

There was a Hall of Residence in my uni days that I'm sure only existed to take those people who none of the other halls wanted.

It was an ex-psychiatric ward and painted the shade described by Douglas Adams as "Freighting Green" (look it up). This decor had an inversely calmative effect.

Being halfway up a bloody mountainside far from the other halls, we were denied the traditional joys of inter-hostel bottle-rocket battles, couch burning, transvestite ballet, etc, so we had to make our own fun.

There was some of the usual furniture stacking and stealage. Some of us plotted elaborate games of simulated murder or made midnight trips to sleep in caves for no readily apparant reason.

However being unsophisticated types the fun mainly involved the recycling of large amounts of local crap beer in ever new and joyous ways.

We thought the high point was the performance of a Helicopter chunder on the front lawn, until one resident topped it by performing a Pelican with a willing accomplice. It's quite possible that the local brew was actually improved by this method of delivery.

This fine feat of regurgitation was photographed and displayed for all to enjoy on the notice board right by where we queued for our dinner, causing much squeamishness.

(It is to be noted that it took very little to put us off our dinner. All the food arrived in a van, lukewarm, and all too frequently looked like something out of Doctor Who).

I would like to say my university days were happy times that improved me greatly. That alas would be a fib.
(scuttlefish is drifting into the arena of the unwell, Tue 10 Apr 2007, 7:15, Reply)