in time // h.s.

xvii. janet

Eighteen years old...

I'd picked Bristol as my top choice for university mainly because of its beautiful location and scenic views. I'd been there years before with my family and had thought of it as a magical place ever since. Although, obviously, the photography courses I'd be studying sounded great too. Ever since mom and dad had bought me that first camera, I'd never been able to shake off the love for the art. I knew dad would have loved me to study something more solid, like business or English, something that offered more prospects once the degree was complete and would secure me a future, but he never tried to sway me from doing the course. At eighteen, I had no idea what I planned to do with a photography degree, but I figured something would pop up somewhere along the line. Taking pictures was what I loved doing. Plus, not to blow my own trumpet, I was good at it. Now I'm not saying that I thought I was about to become the new Mario Testino, but I was better at doing and creating rather than forcing my mind to think about mundane tasks and sums. A doer, not a thinker, perhaps.

Bristol was just as beautiful as I'd remembered it from a trip my parents had taken me and my brother, Chris, on during my early teenage years. The area that had stuck in my mind most vividly was Totterdown, with its multi-colored houses sitting all pretty in the hills. The rest of Bristol itself was far from ugly with its historic-looking buildings at the heart of it, with the rivers winding their way through everything, the campus, shops and houses. It felt like you were never far from the water. Plus, there were loads of beaches a cycle ride or a drive away (depending on how adventurous you felt), where we could sunbathe over ice cream, dinky donuts or a bag of chips. Perfect. I knew I'd be spending most of my time inland in the busy part of the city, but it was lovely knowing that those views were only minutes away and easily accessible.

On the day I arrived there, once the cars were unpacked, my room was set up, and we'd met a few other students who were staying in the same halls, I finally managed to persuade mom and dad that it was okay for them to leave me in this strange place called Bristol.

As soon as I waved them off and returned to my room (after a million goodbye hugs and kisses), I found myself disturbed by the silence. It was eerie. I lay on my single bed and looked around my new home. The bland white walls were hardly warm and inviting, but I knew I could spruce it up with some photos from home pinned to them. Along one side there was a white wardrobe and a chest of drawers, which were already brimming with clothes (I'd had no idea what to pack, so decided to bring the majority of my wardrobe). Next to those was a wooden desk, on which I'd already lined up my course books as well as my new laptop and camera. I was also given the gift of an en-suite, something I was truly grateful for as it would spare me the awkwardness of half-naked encounters with strangers in the hallway after showers and, perhaps more importantly, the embarrassment of having to hide the smell of my number twos when going to the loo. Yes, I knew an en-suite would make my life there much more comfortable.

I took in the new space around me and let out a sigh, suddenly feeling a bit empty, or perhaps it was boredom seeping in after such a hectic and thrilling day. It was, after all, fairly anti-climactic. I'd been so excited to get to Bristol and for university life to start, but we still had a whole thirty-eight hours to go until we walked through those university doors and officially became its students.

I picked up my phone and called Harry. His accommodation wasn't in the same block as mine, but was luckily only a couple of minutes' walk away.

"Hey," he said, picking up instantly.

"Hey, Donut. Are you unpacked?"

"Yeah, all done. Mum left ages ago. I've been helping some of the others bring their suitcases up the stairs and stuff."