Dear gran and granddad,

As I sit and write this letter to you both, I find myself quietly reflecting on my time at university
so far. At the time of writing this letter, I am two-thirds of the way through my degree, and a year
away from graduating.
When I first came to uni I had all the fears other students had: fear of new people, fear of not
fitting in and fear of a completely strange place. But I had additional fears the fear of being a
non-drinker in a heavily saturated drink culture. How would I, a non-drinker, settle into an
atmosphere that was very alcohol centric? In the end I neednt have worried, when people learned
of my reasons for not drinking, they respected that and allowances were made. And sharing
granddads sharp wit and twisted humour meant I still had fun without booze. That isnt to say
there werent challenges to overcome, there were.
I had spent much of my adult years shielding myself from alcohol and drunk people. I was never
comfortable in those situations, and I did all I could to avoid it. I had built my own solitary island,
and I was content there. University life catapulted me from my solitude into the wild jungle
which is drinking culture. The alcohol fuelled shouts blaze in your ears, the crowds of people
lock you into an anxious cage, and the floor thumping music leaves you dizzy and scared. For the
first few weeks I careened from one extreme to the next, from absolute solitude to the booze
fuelled parties that shook my very foundations. I struggled to find a compromise which protected
my sensitive nature and allowed me to still socialise with people.
In an attempt to fit in with my flat, I agreed to attend a night out with my flat. I agreed to meet my
flat mates at a pre agreed destination before going onto our destination, as I was doing pre-drinks
with a friend at a house party. The whole affair was very relaxed. I began to loosen up as the
drinking games began and we got to know each other. During pre-drinks I chugged an entire pint
glass of coke, to chants of chug, chug, chug. I guess this was to be my initiation into drinking
culture. Then the dancing began and I once again found myself unsure of how to act. Did I
attempt to dance and risk making a fool of myself? Or did I refuse to dance and look like a party
pooper? In the end I tried to dance, however I did so very awkwardly. I would sort of sway on the
spot, not moving my arms and barely moving my hips. I did this for two or three minutes before
stopping and sitting myself down again, the blush of embarrassment creeping up my face.
I eventually met with my flat mates outside the students union and agreed to come with them to
the next location of their drinking. As we left and walked to get a taxi to the night club, we
walked past a bar. As I walked past a drunk man flung his arm around me and attempted to drag
me into the bar, offering to buy me a drink. Flinching slightly as his touch I declined, insisting I
was going out with my flat mates and we were sticking together as a group. I was relieved to have
been with others, as that helped me remain calm and not panic. However I hadnt encountered
this behaviour before and it was certainly a culture shock for me. Was this how people acted
when drunk? Were they always this unaware of personal boundaries of others? A year on and I
still dont know the answer to either of these questions.
We finally reached our destination: the night club Oceana. We piled out of the taxi and joined the
queue of people waiting to gain admittance. As we entered the music hit me immediately and I
was slightly overwhelmed by the loudness of the music. I could feel the bass thumping through
the floor and could hardly hear myself speak over the music. Perhaps this was part of the fun for
other people, but for me it was an extremely uncomfortable situation. I dearly wanted to turn face
and return to the safety of the flat, but told myself to stick it out for a while with my flat. I stuck
close by them, not wishing to be alone in this multi-cavernous building, each room packed with
drunk students.

We wrestled our way to the bar to get drinks and then my flat mates, drinks in hand headed for
the dance floor. I remained stood like a sentry at the bar, not knowing what to do. I had always
been too self-conscious and too self-aware of my own body to dance, and the thought of doing so
now when surrounded by so many people was horrifying. How do people even dance? What do I
do with my arms or my legs? While my flat mates danced with enthusiasm, I remained at the bar,
shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, sipping from my drink. I avoided eye contact with strangers
and passers-by, my discomfort increasing as each minute dragged by. I didnt know how long I
could stand being here before I would excuse myself and make my way home.
To my relief one of my flat mates returned to me, and upon seeing my whole demeanour told me
that if I wanted to leave then I could at any time but to let them know I had left. I smiled
gratefully and told her Id finish my drink and then leave. When she walked away I began
swallowing my drink in large gulps, wanting to speed up the time until I could escape this
nightmare club. With my drink finished, I tapped my flat mate on the shoulder and told her I was
leaving. She smiled and told me she would see me when I got home. Fighting my way through
the crowds I made for the exit, not stopping to talk to anyone or be engaged in conversation. The
only incident that occurred was a drunk woman trying to take my glasses, it was geek night and
she thought they were fake. Taking them back I hurried out the door and made it to the safety of
the taxi and soon my room. I vowed never to return to this club again.
At around 2am I heard my flat mates arrive back, barely containing their loud laughter and
drunken conversations. I rather hoped they would go to bed but instead they piled into the
kitchen. Within moments the music was playing and a post-drinking party appeared to be taking
part. My bedroom door acted as a barricade between myself and this spontaneous party. When the
laughing and cheering began to feel too much I approached my door, with the intention of asking
them to keep the noise down. Whenever I did this I paused at my door, anxiety preventing me
from going any further. Instead I drowned out their noise with my earphones, losing myself in my
own world of internet friends and gaming. I could lose myself into my entertainment.
As the year progressed I found a compromise which joined the two extremes. With my flat mates
I would sit with them as they drank before going out, and when they vacated the flat would steal
away to my bed in the now quiet flat. I would attend quieter drinking socials with people on my
course, and opt out of the more outgoing events.
The morning after these nights out always began with a hangover saturated silence throughout the
flat. One by one my flat mates would emerge and enter the kitchen, mumbling a quick hello as
they grabbed their hangover cures. Sometimes we would sit and talk, and I would discuss what I
preferred to do other than drinking. Although I didnt drink, I wasnt a humourless fart who did
nothing with himself. I enjoyed attending the theatre, I enjoyed going to comic and sci-fi
conventions, and I enjoyed movie nights or sleepovers with my friends. Most of all I enjoyed
nothing more than to curl up with a book, losing myself in another world, in another life. I
enjoyed finding the most secluded parts of the city and finding the beauty that waited to be
discovered.