Beginning of the twist – Wylde Nickers every Wednesday on Queen’s Radio – Nickys ipod…great until it got wiped – Nicky, Aine and Lisa under my bed, ahem, what a normal occurrence in the world of Wylie – The infamous photo of genitalia which was sent to a certain someone – Paul Maddern and his resurrecting of the Academy’s way of teaching – Boring Sumpter asking questions and sitting until next year if nobody answers – The “stolen” “ipod” of Lisa M Donnelly from Pomeroy – Not eating for like…w e e k s…. – Bye Bye Magners “Do you know how much sugar is in that?” – Hello gin -Emerald on Sunday nights – Nickys insistence on The Globe for lunch…eugh – Our introduction to uber-cool hangout “The CathChap”! – London…Billy Elliot…Wicked…no clothes…formation of The Laaaaads …hostel…Europeans…German dude (!)… - Athlete gig – Scouting for Girls with Raymona…Marry me Roy –– VIP access in Mandela Hall…Should I even bother with the degree anymore when I have achieved this much? – Phil and Tim - The Lad Dictionary – Is my nose broken? Maybe –Did I mention Phil and Tim? - Actual time spent alone (nearly) with DJ Jesus – Wylies on the Gin - We are Scientists – The Ting Tings and amazing Speakeasy experience after – Great DJ…officially Wylde Nickers theme tune when we enter a room – Date with PW in QFT at lesbian film…interesting experience – Me and Raymona’s work for Cosmo magazine, check out the Spring issue – Continuing to avoid the Odyssey and M Club like herpes – Seeing Foxy step down as Gown editor – Phil and Tim - The Gown party on Monday 21st April (sniff sniff)* – Becoming Co-Editor of The Gown with Charlie – Law Society formal…ahem…eventful one might say – English Ball…what a dress, and Nicky? What a back flip! – Lawsuits with The Gown…we are journalistic Bad Asses who say things like “taig”…Are you offended? Yeah? – Nuala’s house officially becoming a disaster area on a par with Beirut – Pre-bevs in the house of Una and Foxy – Phil and Tim, yet again - Food, what is that? – Lads – Slash – Pure and utter ragin – Laddy McLad – pure and utter slash – Joan retires – Law trip to Dublin, still drunk? Perhaps – Nicky’s blue ballerina jeans…Wayne Sleep eat your heart out – Inter-railing on the horizon with the laaaads…and Marty – Baroness Hale of Richmond…Who? What? But mainly, WHY? – Orla makes shock move back to Halls – Heated discussions in 115 about…oooh I couldn’t possibly say – my skylight…scene of many ponders – my bed = permanent mess – Boyfriends…nuala!?ay,what!? – One of the most memorable semesters ever? Probably!

*We at The Gown, do not, I repeat do not, sniff Class A drugs…but we are very, VERY emotional.

SEE YOU ALL "AT THE USUAL SPOT" IN MANDELA IN A FEW MONTHS!

xox

Twilight walks on tottering heels down Rugby Avenue towards Damascus Street * Playing my favourite songs on my radio show…The Editors, Holloways, Wombats, Kate Nash, anyone? * Dr Pepper and his devastatingly delectable dishiness making English tutorials fun * Learning how to get books from the library * Britney Spears, in general * Converting from sambuca to choc pops * Fending off a male attacker on University Avenue with the old trusty “knee in the balls” routine * turkey and ham with chips and gravy from Spar (!) * The Emerald! * The CDs Nicky made me * The Guardian/Jeremy Paxman trip to London * Japanese Popstars * Lack of ‘Ravenous’ and ‘Speakeasy’ with Nuala * Living opposite what seems to be a chav/young delinquent centre, but not quite sure yet * An Andrew Lloyd Webber inspired Halloween in which I, as a jellicle cat, purred and attracted Austen Powers * The Galway Girl * Feeling my love for Mandela Hall increase even more* DJ Jesus in the Bunatee * When Nicky and I experienced ‘Gimme More’ being played for the very first time on a dance floor * Interviewing Marie Jones and having her number in my phone * Succumbing to the bewitching entrancement of ‘Control’ and consequently becoming a new Joy Division fan * The Wednesday Bot tradition I enjoyed with Aine * Noel Fielding walking past me in London * Writing the direst essay of my life for Film Studies which was ironically based on Buster Keaton’s silent films and written to the backdrop of “Holyland Student Noise” at 2am * Spending the night with the Holyland wardens and inconveniently really fancying the hot one who I had to conduct a very serious conversation with * Sharing a room in a London hostel with a strange man * Queuing for Mandela tickets at noon * Serially forgetting to turn on my mic during my show and having to repeat a 3minute rant which doesn’t sound nearly as impressive or humorous second time round * Reading the news at 6pm and hoping there are no tricky foreign names to be pronounced/my mouth doesn’t become redundant of spittle/I don’t get a fit of giggles * All the new numbers on my phone thanks to Queen’s Radio and The Gown * Lipstick stained cigarette butts * Chilling in the green room in BBC Television Centre London with Jeremy Paxman et al * Falling asleep in a number of film screenings, bringing back memories from European Cinema in 1st year * Avoiding the Odyssey like herpes * Spending two days with Barry McElheney, the main man at emap publishing, and then his decision to lavish me with an award * The Holloways and Wombats concert * Working at the Belfast Festival at Queen’s and seeing Bill Bailey, David Lynch and Donovan for free, before a clanger of an after party * Working as a dresser at Belfast Fashion Week * Buying tickets for Kylie and Girls Aloud * Our first unproductive inter-railing meeting in Villa Italia * Computer viruses * Attending the premiere of ‘Once’ and falling in love with the music of Marketa Irglova and Glen Hansard * Boys, and I don’t mean the Britney song * Working for the Queen’s Annual Fund, initially scary but then fantastic * That Scouting For Girls song, I like to think they’re talking about a 30year old me * Getting Lisa Donnelly out of the house and en route to Mandela * Taking turns to “choose the song” from Nicky’s amazing ipod during pre-Mandela drinks * Lunches in the Parlour in those early Gown days with Foxy * The infamous photo shoot with a sexy Pole (as in the country, not a vertical metal object) * Identifying my ideal man in ‘P.S. I love you’ * If you’re interested, I’m referring to the character of William * Grieving for the old hunky film tutor but welcoming the new one who resembles a certain eccentric English teacher from the Academy * Getting poetry published with United Press

* But mostly living in fear and sadness as I realise that the first half of my University career at Queen’s is over…….

Chronicles of a fresher 06-07…SUPERNOODLES AND CIDER!

By “Catarina Wylde”…undercover fresher!

As Coach Calhoun enthusiastically said in Grease, "It was a bad year." Well I am now experiencing a parallel situation, sitting here at my laptop in September looking back over a very eventful few months as a fresher at Queen's. However, when I say 'bad', I am obviously using it in the modern sense. And now that I'm an old, sensible, hardworking second year, I must try my best to be cool and down with the kids. A year from now you will all be in my position and you too will have the memories of drinking cider from soup bowls, being hungover in lectures, lying on the front lawn on the campus on sunny days, having lazy coffee breaks between classes and kissing strangers in discothèques. Here's my glittering story...

“Moving away from home is never easy.” Why does that line appear in so many articles aimed at freshers? There is no other situation that I can think of that is as exciting as being a fresher who has just moved away from home and is beginning uni life. And I’m sure that by now, midway through freshers’ week, you are all well aware of this. I remember my freshers’ week in a vague, hazy sort of manner. There are aspects of it which have disappeared into oblivion in my mind and there are aspects of it which are still very ‘fresh’, so to speak. Moving into the Elms Village on a Saturday afternoon with the sun high in the sky, I was convinced that I would be living in a Manhattan style penthouse for a year. And in a way I was. If, of course, you excuse the loaves of stale bread, the cereal bowls which contained a substance Alexander Fleming would have went crazy for, and the general feeling that the place had been ransacked on a weekly basis. But I loved every second of my Elms dwelling existence. I made new friends (and enemies…beware of noise haters), learnt how to boil pasta, fell in love with my bed and strengthened my calf muscles due to all the stairs. What more could a girl ask for in university accommodation?

My first year was probably the only time in my life when I was able to say that Monday was my favourite day. It saw me squeezing in a film lecture with a very handsome Oklahoma lecturer, attending English lectures with Dr Pepper (yep, he’s a real person and that’s his name), and snuggling into the cushiony velvet seats in the QFT for the weekly screening. Once the clock struck five, the Monday night fun would begin. And I can guarantee you that there’s no fun like Monday night fun! Even writing this is giving me tingles of anticipation for it to recommence. My friends and I would take our usual corner in the Speakeasy bar, discuss that day’s film and argue over who had interpreted it correctly. Then we would make our way back to Elms in order to transform ourselves into Goddesses of the night. Because, freshers, Monday night can mean only one thing – MANDELA HALL! I cannot put into words the love I feel for this establishment. Instead, all I can say is…go, see, experience, dance, taste, listen, kiss, love…

Afternoons were often spent in the library doing extra reading, or alternatively (or always, if I’m being honest) in Topshop checking out the new skirts in the ‘Laura’ range. Sometimes, if it was sunny, we would occupy a summer seat in Botanic gardens and check out the talent walking by…oops, I mean the newly planted geraniums. Cooking was always an ordeal. So much so, that by November we surrendered, and became self appointed restaurant critics in the South Belfast area. It was triggered off by an incident with supernoodles in my friends house in the land of the GAA jerseys (by now you will know that this is a more appropriate name for the Holy lands). By the end of our meal we had borrowed bowls from one neighbour and a kettle from another, after having to run to the shop to top up the electric meter. In my opinion, elect