7 things they won’t tell you about second year houses

You’ve been a student for seven weeks and now you need to choose who you’re going to live with for the the next year.

7 things they won’t tell you about second year houses

To suggest that it’s all a bit fast would be an understatement. You barely know each other. You’re not used to it. There’s someone else. You just need more time. Its not you, it’s me.

Alas, housemate selection is a shotgun marriage, and a large part of the bugger of it all is the metaphorical wine and catering: which house are you going to rent? Who are you going to rent it with?

There are a lot of potential houses and a lot of potential housemates. In a bid to avoid putting it too bluntly, it’s all a bit difficult.

Worry not. Old mother Hoar has put her collective heads in a small room with some vodka and constructed an essential seven-point checklist to see you into a pleasant house that’s adequately stocked with pleasant people.

No, honestly, it’s a pleasure.

1. Live in Leam

I apologise if this is an overly prosaic or Tab-like observation, but it’s feckin’ stupid to not live in Leamington. You may not devote your Fridays to Neon, your Thursdays to Smack and your every waking hour to Kelseys, but the town has other draws.

For one thing, it’s where all the other students are. Social interaction is scientifically proven to be good for you. So that’s a plus.

For another, it’s actually rather nice. In a way Canley can never hope to be. If you grew up in Milton Keynes and can’t understand what I’m talking about, just take my word for it.

Perhaps most importantly, it’s an extremely long way from campus. This is an administrative fuckup they ought to sort out. All the same, you didn’t do Warwick right if you didn’t, at some point, have to set a 6:30 alarm for a 9am.

2. Living with your halls folk isn’t a completely terrible idea

If you don’t hate them all yet, something’s going ok. Don’t mess with shit that’s not broken. You only get three years as an undergrad.

3. Don’t live in the arse end of No-Leam (or So-Leam)

The aforementioned benefits of a Rootes-like proximity to your nearest and dearest are forfeited if you happen to select a prim cul-de-sac full of seventy-somethings.

The church bus stop is your friend. Living more than five minutes from it will lead to good grades, toned calves and a solo drinking problem. We wouldn’t want that.

4. Choose a house based entirely on its current residents

Since people are generally pretty infallible, deferring to someone else’s judgement can be, and often is, a jolly good idea. If they say words that broadly resemble, ‘this house is a load of shit, so we’re moving out’, consider it a red light.

5. Don’t live with anyone you plan to share bodily fluids with

Divvy up thoughts, emotions, drink, blunts, eyeball shots or a kidney with any of your future housemates by all means. Draw the line at coital relations with anyone you are contractually obliged to live with.

6. Avoid schedule makers

Cleaning rotas are like a wet fart at an orgy. Should you find yourself in a group with someone with a proclivity for melkishly messaging the house about cleaning bathroom floors; leave the WhatsApp group. Cut off contact. Burn your phone. Relocate to Indonesia.

While you’re at it, avoid housemates who make liberal use of post-it lists and pass-agg comments about the milk.

7. Women have a lot of hair

This, of course, is no fault of their own. But if picking hair out of apparently every semi-aqueous interface in the building (including, it seems, each meal you eat) is something you don’t eagerly anticipate, consider discussing with future female housemates the possibility of shaving their heads. A hairless house is a happy house.