Once college was actually under way, I started to feel a bit more settled. I've always been happier when I've had a clear goal in front of me and getting back in to the swing of study just reinforced that for me. Though I had admittedly been forewarned by Karen, college turned out to be a massive step up from school and it was, initially at least, really daunting but, once I got into a routine, I was away. I was pretty clear on the pathway I wanted to take but choosing my core subjects was actually more complicated than I thought. I suppose I just needed a sounding board, someone to validate my choices, and I was fortunate that I had Holly beside me because she was a very capable advisor especially as we had the shared goal of pursuing teaching as a profession. Her dad was a university lecturer and her mum had been a teacher, before she'd abandoned her career to be a full time mum to Holly and her siblings, so she was able to tap into this amazing pool of experience. Her parents actually provided quite a lot of support, something I would never have and, sometimes, that made me feel a bit sad but I have to give Holly her due, she was always happy to share what she knew. She was also very goal-focused and quite competitive too so there was always a little bit of an unspoken friendly rivalry between us; the middle-class, ambitious Daddy's girl and the wet-behind-the-ears, poor kid who was, essentially, an orphan.
Amongst other things, Holly was great at not letting any of 'her girls', as she called our little Graham Terrace group, deviate from the path of positivity and a belief in our own self-worth. We all had our problems and, strangely enough, the common denominator was often boys, but however strong the temptation was to wallow in self pity, Holly wasn't having it. She seemed to experience more bad luck than any of us when it came to the opposite sex but she never seemed to let it get her down. So, when the whole Danny thing started to get to me, it was to my flat mates I turned.
Initially, I didn't have the courage to admit what an absolute disappointment my first time with him had been and I tried to to push it to the back of my mind but I just couldn't. He had slunk off in the middle of the night and then hadn't had the decency to even phone me until the following Thursday when, clearly, he was thinking about a repeat performance and rang to see what my plans were for the weekend. To be honest, I was still cheesed off with him and, looking back, it was an hilariously lame excuse but I actually told him that I had a headache. Because the phone was in the kitchen, as I hung up and turned to go back to my room, I was met by three very sceptical and enquiring faces so, of course, I had to offer some sort of explanation. But, even though I had only known them a short time, clearly they saw right through my pretence and I was immediately ushered to the couch, presented with a glass of wine and encouraged to spill all of the beans.
Reluctantly, I mentioned that I hadn't exactly had my mind blown and I wasn't sure if I wanted to repeat the performance. It was then that I felt the full and enveloping support of my 'girls' as the evening became a rather frank discussion on the virtues and pitfalls of various men they had known. There is nothing like seeing the funny side to help you deal with a problem and, by the end of the evening, my sides were aching from laughter, I had received an education in the Finer Points of Boyfriend Selection, plus I had been presented with a pile of back dated Cosmopolitan magazines almost as tall as I was, and ordered to study, and study hard.
We were several glasses of wine in when the more personal questions began to emerge and, to a girl, they all recoiled in horror when I answered honestly about what had occurred. Libby took my hand, squeezed it sympathetically and gazed into my eyes before asking me if I was aware of the physical traits that were indicative of things that a girl might look for in a lover. I was too squiffy by then to care how ignorant I seemed and I shook my head before she replied solemnly, with particular emphasis, that most men were Perfectly in Proportion. That that particular physical attribute was even a criteria was quite surprising to me and I suppose that just again illustrates my naivety. Apparently, as I listened, the look on my face was priceless and caused them all to dissolve into hysterics at my reaction. As I thought about what they'd said and acknowledged their horror at Danny's lack of skill and class, I had the gradually dawning and slightly reassuring realisation that perhaps it wasn't actually me that was entirely the problem. By the end of the evening, they were all adamant that I must dump him and, as the wine flowed, they were all becoming more insistent but, as I sobered up a little, I felt a bit disloyal for even discussing what had happened and, when I woke up the next morning, I was fairly mortified by my confession. I decided that I would spend the weekend studying both my course work and the glossy women's magazines and then see how I felt about Danny after that. My feeble excuse had at least bought me another week of thinking time, or at least I hoped they had.
Now that lectures had started, and I was now part of the vast daily throng that swept its way to college each day, there were a few other major adjustments to make. I realised that, growing up in a small village, I had got very used to being a big fish in a small pond. Growing up, everyone knew my name and, even at Wadebridge Comprehensive, my academic results had meant that most of the teachers knew me by name. But now I was an absolute nobody, anonymous and faceless; one of thousands of hopeful, but unremarkable, undergraduates relying on t-shirt slogans and avant-garde attitudes to try and stand out from the crowd.
Like pretty much of my whole personality, in the realm of student politics, I was really unworldly, and embarrassingly uninformed about the issues of the day. I was absolutely the definition of callow youth and I felt my ignorance keenly. I didn't have anyone close to me from whom I could seek an opinion. Holly was an out and out Tory, Libby was disinterested, and Toni actually told me that she probably wouldn't vote until she was married and then her husband would instruct her what to do. Danny was only political in a sycophantic way, agreeing with whoever he was talking to at any particular time and, like more and more things about him, I started to find his lack of any sort of conviction a bit frustrating.
Maybe it was because I was so relatively clueless about the government and the issues of the day that I did develop a sort of admiration for a group of students on my course who seemed very politically aware and were edgy and vociferous and cool. There were always pinning angry posters to the student notice boards, organising demonstrations in the Quad, and partaking in vigorous, ale-fuelled debates in the pubs frequented by the Arts students on any night of the week. To be honest, I actually found it all to be quite thrilling, probably because it seemed to me the embodiment of the student experience and I soaked it all up like the sponge I was. Holly, on the other hand, detested the whole idea of student politics and heaped scorn on the roughly produced newsletters that littered our campus which often targeted her beloved Tories in particular. After a while I realised that, despite my more socialist principles, I was never going to have the anger and conviction that being a student radical seemed to require and I contented myself with emulating aspects of their styles of dress. Although I could not bring myself to smoke Gauloises and listen to Billy Bragg, I began to carry a little army rucksack, wore very short, plaid mini-skirts, and scored my first pair of Doc Marten boots when I had them thrust into my hands at the pub by a drunken and emotional wannabe communist who insisted on divesting herself of all her worldly possessions for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Luckily for me, we were the same size and, after expeditiously escaping the rowdy pub before she changed her mind, I sat them on my chest of drawers for a day to admire them, before adopting them, proudly, as my preferred everyday footwear.
As absorbed as I had become in my Liberal Arts universe, Danny also spent most of his free time fraternising with his fellow architecture students and, all in all, I suppose they were a far more sophisticated crowd. Occasionally I would join him socially at his college but, as I developed my own opinions on things, I actually found his associates quite pretentious and, as we used to say back then, up themselves. Danny gave up beer for red wine, and started to listen to Miles Davis and John Coltrane pretty much exclusively. We had less and less in common; the strands that held us together were tenuous and becoming more and more uncertain every day but neither of us were seemingly prepared to call it a day. After being buoyed in confidence by what I read in glossy magazines, I accepted his physical attention again and, quite courageously in the circumstances, I tried to tell him what I wanted but I wasn't exactly sure myself if I'm honest. Of course, with his usual vehemence, he told me he understood but, in the heat of the moment, very little changed and I never became very enthusiastic which I suppose, in hindsight, didn't help.
So we stayed together, officially as a couple, but we clearly had begun to drift apart; the time in between our meetings stretched out and our common ground diminished to almost nothing. I had a strong sense that he looked down on Arts as a wish-washy degree and he started to turn his occasionally hyper critical commentary toward my college friends and the things we liked to do which, in his mind anyway, were often unseemly and puerile. I suppose the final straw was, when I invited him to a Spoken Word poetry night at a local underground nightclub, and he responded with such scorn that I was taken aback. When he said that, despite being only two months into his degree, that no serious architect could afford to be seen in such a known trendy lefty venue and didn't I understand that it would spell disaster for his career, I knew that we were finally done.
It didn't take long for word to get back to me that he was now bonking Anya, and moving in the wealthy student circles where the champagne flowed freely, lines of coke were de rigeur and monogamy was considered merely a social construct. I listened to the gossip and I felt nothing; it was as if the last strong tie to Port Wenn had been severed and, strangely enough, I felt almost pleased. My 'girls' circled the wagons and ensured I was distracted, and amused, and not left alone for the following week and, by the time the weekend came around again, I had picked myself up and officially moved on.
It had rained all Saturday and we had sat around in the living room, huddled under blankets, and discussing our usual favourite subjects: boys, music and college. Libby had, after I professed my undying adoration for Brian Ferry and David Bowie, suggested that I clearly had a thing for older men in suits. As if to prove her point, she waved the Cosmo she was reading at me and, rummaging between the sofa cushions for a pen, insisted that we all take part in the quiz that would, once and for all, determine our perfect celebrity boyfriends. After struggling to maintain her composure, as the questions became increasingly suggestive, somewhat fortuitously, she'd ended up with Johnny Depp, Holly was destined to be with Prince Albert of Monaco, and the man of my dreams turned out, rather hysterically, to be Dr. Frasier Crane. Toni was a bit disappointed to get Sylvester Stallone but Holly did point out to her, somewhat unkindly, that she did tend to go for muscles over intelligence and social skills, and, as she agreed morosely, we all laughed until we cried. Even now, the memory of that afternoon, and the resultant banter that went on for days, brought a smile to my face. The camaraderie we shared in that dismal flat, despite being too poor to turn on the heating, and too lazy to cook, was fantastic. After being an only child for my whole life, it was like having three jocular and entertaining sisters who, in their infinitely more worldly way, helped shape me into the person I am now.
After Danny and I finally called it a day, it happened that all four of us were all single again at the same time. Consequently, we became a bit focused on upcoming social events; which venues we would honour with our collective presence became the source of a lot of debate. Preparing for a night out, with four girls and one bathroom, required the organisation of a military exercise, and we invariably consumed at least a couple of bottles of Chardonnay just getting ready. Now that we were heading out for the night together, we would share clothes and, fortunately for me, make up and hair tips. It was Toni who first encouraged me to wear my hair up in a complicated but messy bun, and Libby who pointed out to me red really was my colour. Holly, who had a wardrobe of clothes and shoes to die for, was always generous in her offers to share and, although I could tell she disapproved of my Doc Marten phase, never failed to compliment me on my rather distinctive 'style'.
It was nearly 9pm when we finally left the flat and made our way to the tube. A house party organised by the Law School beckoned and Holly, such was her determination to find a significant boyfriend, was absolutely adamant that we must attend. As usual, I was swept along in her wake and, as we dispersed throughout the full carriage, I mentioned to Libby that I wasn't entirely sure why Holly had been so insistent that I attend. I still remember her incredulous laugh as she stared at me in disbelief. Finally, she shook her head and said to me slowly.
"Oh my god, Louisa! You prize plonker! She wants you there because you will be a boy magnet."
I looked back at her in confusion, giving a little disconcerted shake of my head.
"What?" I said quietly. "What are you talking about?"
She smiled at me and reached across to pat my arm.
"Oh, bless, you really have no idea, do you? Louisa, for God's sake, you are gorgeous!"
Of all the adjectives that I had ever used about myself, that was definitely not one of them and I suddenly felt a little bit uncomfortable and quite a lot embarrassed. The way I stared at her clearly made Libby laugh and she nodded her head vigorously as if to convince me. Somewhat confounded, it took me a while to process what she'd said and, when we arrived at the venue, I still wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't pulling my leg. But I was immediately distracted by the loud, thumping bass, and the throngs of excited young party-goers milling about in the foyer and, as we had our hands stamped and were swept inside, all I could think of was a long-awaited night of dancing and having a great time with my friends. And, as if it were symbolic of my newly acquired independence, we all hit the dance floor excitedly as the DJ put the needle on the record, and the auditorium was filled with the thumping beat of our current fave song, 'The Only Way Is Up'.