So I went back up to Hull in order to retrieve a few pieces of paper, that were otherwise not forthcoming. After a couple of weeks of telephoning anyone who would listen on university grounds, and sending a number of e-mails, I eventually gave up and headed up there.
It took me five minutes to get these pieces of paper, because of the stellar direction given to me by Matt, the prince of (the) English (office).
The train journey was originally going to cost me £200, so I obviously got a different train. The journey up was relatively uneventful, but the journey down sucked. It took me about 5 hours, whereas the opposite journey took me three.
Anyway, seeing as I was in Hull for three years, with no kind of definitive (positive) memory being created while I was there, I felt it fitting to take some pictures and write about it.
The university itself is quite good. Depending on the department you'll either be enrolled in the middle of the pack (in terms of all English universities) or somewhere further down the ranks. Luckily for me the English department ranked extremely highly in England, and therefore ranked highly within the university itself. I don't know where it is now; but I have a funny feeling it will have slipped now a few of their more prominent (see:amazing) students have left. (Me of course.)
The facilities are pretty good, with sports on tap for those who want to participate in organised events, and a well equipped (if small) gym for those who like individual exercise.
The whole place is clean, and the library (where you'll spend your entire third year and masters year(s)) is extremely well equipped. Unfortunately there are far too few computers in the building itself, so you'll need to bring/buy a laptop in order to use it to its' full potential.
The town itself is as horrible as people say it is. There are certain areas that are completely rundown, in the most spectacular sense of the word. If you like hardcore drugs, crime and occasionally murder, these areas will be your second home.
The town centre has been newly renovated, but as was expected, it's already starting to become a bit ragged around the edges, even though it's only a couple of years old.
I guess any university experience comes down to what you make of it, and to that extent, to be perfectly frank, it doesn't matter in the least bit which university you decide upon going to, because if you throw yourself into it, you'll have fun either way. As such, Hullian accommodation is extremely cheap, and living there is cheaper than anywhere else in England.
This is the English department.
The guys and girls of the English department office are awesome. They epitomise the friendly Hull ethic you hear others always talking about, and basically make administrative tasks pleasant. Other departments torment you at every turn, the English department helps you all the time, no matter what th problem is. Fantastic. There are a huge number of companies out there that should wake up and take note of the customer service of this particular group. Seriously.
This is the central boulevard, as it were. This walkway links all the major parts of the university, from science departments to computer centres. The Library is on the left, well hidden behind the moulting tree.
The new parts of the university, such as the busines school occupy a giant concrete wart just behind the library, and are best avoided if sanity is something you value.
The university is situated a fair distance from the city centre. Around forty minutes by foot, or fifteen to twenty on a bus. As such, I chose to take no pictures of the town centre, in favour of plotting my route back home. I made this journey almost every day for a couple of years. It's really strange to think that I did that and have no real emotion towards the university itself; bar the people I worked with, or had dealings with.
Some say inanimate objects take on a life of their own, but I think this only applies to cars, or vehicles.
This is the complete journey from university to house. The photo above is looking back towards the university, and the one here is forward looking, onward to my (old) house!
This is looking down Newland avenue. My (old) house is right at the end of this road, and then at the end of another road.
All I could think about when I was walking down this road was chenzi, and what a waste of a year that was. It's unfortunate when bad memories are stirred up by simple sights such as this, but I guess it serves as a warning and reminder to my future self.
All the little things brought back memories for me, and all I could think was how big a waste of time she was. Sigh.
This is halfway down the street, past her house, and nearing the right angle left hand turn that signals disembarkation from Newland avenue.
The houses on the street in which I lived are quite enormous, Victorian style beasts. In true Victorian style they seem to have been engineered to withstand nuclear attack, even though they couldn't have perceived this threat during their construction. You can tell modern construction, simply because it is flimsy in comparison to the building it's placed upon.
Left turn at the bottom of Newland, and we're halfway there.
This part is the most treacherous when there are fewest cars, because most people think they can take the corner at forty, despite being in a van or similarly ill-equipped vehicle. This has led to more than a few near-death pedestrian experiences.
Luckily, all my bikes got stolen in Hull, so I rarely had the opportunity to traverse this particular corner by bicycle. The extraordinary crime rate of Hull probably saved my life.
There's no one preparing, selling or taking drugs in this little cut-through alleyway, so it's not really a true depiction of my walk home.
Hang a left out of the drug addled alleyway, onto the street of no return.
From the street of no return, one must turn right onto the street of concrete bleakness.
This street is often ravaged by wild gangs of youths, wearing nothing but tracksuits; it is my belief they are attempting to emulate their parents, however more study must be done in this field to ascertain the true reason for the northern obsession with tracksuits.
To highlight the concrete bleakness that
is this road, I took three photographs at three distinctive point along the road.
They are distinctive in that they are points through which other road intersect, and are a five minute walk apart.
The reason for the three photographs?
Essentially it's a game of spot the difference.
This road looks exactly the same, from one end to the other. It is a horrific eyesore, and the only saving grace (a park on the left hand side, for about 3/4 of the road) is blocked by trees and hedges... Good work, city council planning.
This is the thoroughly pleasant road I lived in for two years, enjoying a lot of what it has to offer.
Now I can't remember anything about it, or the house I lived in.
It's not even non-descript! It has character!
So I spent a couple of hours with Josh and Joe. A couple of beers for the trip home, and all is good. Except of course the two hour stopover on the platform because no alternative arrangements were made by the train company.
And Joe, the monster from the deep.
He pretends to be English, but he's actually chinese, even though he's still learning the language. (He's from Hong Kong.)
See:
This for more information about what just happened. (Joe got racially bullied, on the internet. This is against new government guidelines on living, as outlined
here)
And that was my trip to Hull, for a day. It bought back a number of bad memories, a few good ones, rekindled my belief that Hull is the friendliest place in the universe; and revealed my apparent apathy to life.
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