My name is Karol and I am a second year student studying English Lit. I am based in London where my parents, originally from Sweden have now lived for the last eight years. Consequently I went to school here from the age of twelve, growing up just about bilingual, but, I am pleased to say looking every part of the blonde Swedish nymphet stereotypes seen on film. I did pretty well at school considering the little language difficulty at first and passed good 'A' levels to get a place at University. I have found going to Uni here amazing. I am having such a good time, and learning a lot about your English books, both ancient and very modern. It's a great course, and the Prof isn't bad either! He makes you really feel at home in his apartment where we have the occasional more intimate readings. I don't mean intimate as in intimate. This is where my English falls down. I mean intimate as in six or seven of us reading and discussing the book in front of a roaring log fire with a glass of wine. That intimate.
I stayed in halls for the first year and made many new friends. The second year of course we had to find our own accommodation and as my fathers job with the embassy is in London he has had to give me an allowance big enough to share a flat with a few other students. Thank you Pappa. This is a little tale about that flat.
There are five of us living together. Actually that's not quite correct, Pete dropped out a month back, mid-way through the second term of this second year, so there are four of us sharing a house about two miles from the campus, although Pete does come back and see us from time to time. Mainly when he needs a bed for the night because he missed his train home. He was almost a local boy to Liverpool here.
So here we are, a really mixed bag, both in backgrounds and degrees. Bled is doing biology, and is from Croatia. Football appears to be her one true love. She both plays and of course enjoys watching her national team play. She is very nationalistic. And fit! And clever! Her English is even better than mine.
Allie is next. A Scottish girl from Aberdeen, doing film studies, and I thought Bled was nationalistic. Woah. If she could wear the woad blue dye that she keeps talking about she would. She likes to keep showing us the film Braveheart in order to tell us how much the Scots have been trodden down. And that would start Pete off about what the Vikings did to the Liverpudlians in years gone by. As I ask him what is wrong with a little rape and pillage?
Bob psychology. He was an orphan brought up by foster parents in Bath. Bath Rugby Club supporters. He claimed not to be interested in sport at all but would always make sure he just happened to be in the pub to watch the match when the Internationals were on.
Bled and I were the first to get acquainted in our first halls and really got on very well together. I met Allie when we shared a class where modern Literature meets film.
Pete and Bob were also floor buddies from their first halls and Pete had shared a few classes with Bled as he was doing sports Physio. She used to tell me about this fit boy in her class and one day we met him with Bob, who was even bigger and fitter, although awfully shy. Pete had a girlfriend back at home as it turned out, but despite this we all got on well. When we started looking for flats Allie Bled and I thought it would be a good idea to share with a couple of boys. They might introduce us to a few more fit boys.
As Allie pointed out we did sound like an old film title, Bob and Karol, Bled and Allie. As we were not around watching films when the original came out she had to tell us the original title 'Bob and Carol, Ted and Alice', to explain the joke. She does like to compare everything in life to old films. She is definitely doing the correct degree. She did get one thing wrong in her analogy. Unlike in the film there was no sex going on between the four of us. The only one who was getting any was lucky old Pete. As it happened Pete did not hang around for long. His girlfriend and local friends were too much of a pull.
Pete was the stable one until he started clubbing and doing E with a new girl friend he met at a rave. He had been Mr. Organised. The house was organised by rota, cooking was easier because he had organised funds that we had to contribute towards, but would provide herbs and cooking staples, cleaning because he had another one to buy soap powders and things. Use of the communal lounge for visiting friends was rationed so that the five of us residents could all get together. The house functioned like a dream leaving us to concentrate on studying. At least that was the theory. But it did work well and the bonus was that we all got on.
The three of us girls had been friends since the first year so when we had to move off campus we were always going to go together. The house we liked and could afford had five small rooms so that decided the number of tenants that we needed. Luckily Bob and Pete had decided that they were going to share a flat somewhere and had been unable to find a really small one for two. Two boys were good for security and fun to have around. We also expected them to be less bitchy than another couple of girls. We had a long chat one evening before we committed to move in together and they appeared to have no bad habits, apart from the normal toilet seat one. I had a brother and was used to this, but Bled and Allie never could get used to it.
Pete really caused a lot of hassle by disappearing mid term. Of course, because he had been organised about collecting money we had his deposit for the house, which helped but still left us tight week by week. But it was his rotas and nagging we really missed, the house began to get scruffier by the week.
It was Allie who hit on the ideas of fines for not doing jobs around the house, and then me I think who said that we could not afford fines, but would settle for penalties or forfeits. The first month everything worked out well. Penalties for not cleaning or cooking on your set days were set for example, doing all the washing up for a week, doing the laundry run for every ones clothes.
One evening we were all sitting in the lounge gossiping and sharing a box of wine, a major staple of our diet, when Bob said 'You know this is still not working as well as it used to. The penalties are not difficult enough and too boring. Perhaps we should make someone shoplift a case of wine if they miss cleaning the loo this week.'
That triggered a suggested range of ludicrous penalties. Before we knew where we were, we would have been bank robbers and then eventually the modern equivalent of Guy Fawkes as we demonstrated out student desires to blow up Parliament.
Bled did point out that she particularly would have problems with anything illegal as she only had a student visa and did not want to be sent home in disgrace to Dubrovnik.
Trust a boy to come up with the next idea. 'Sex'. He said and we laughed. 'Sexual favours if the cleaning is not done on time.'
'Yeah riiight,' we continued to laugh. 'Have you noticed perhaps that as the only boy here that that might be a little too biased to your advantage.' Again the conversation went on to ludicrous extremes as one or another of us were prostituted or sold into slavery for burning the toast.
'But seriously,' said Bob 'let us all write a forfeit, put it in a hat and draw one out if there is one to be given'.
The wine we had drunk pushed us into agreeing and we had a semi-serious discussion at last and Bob collected 4 pieces of paper and a pen. It all went quiet for 10 minutes and four little pieces of folded paper were sitting on the table.
'Och, do we look at them now?' said Allie her Scottish accent becoming stronger as the excitement unfolded.
'Not until someone needs to,' Bob insisted. 'The anticipation is half the fun,' spoke the Psychologist inside.
Later that week there was no bread for toast. It was on your list they said to me.
'I just forgot it. Sorry. I will get it tomorrow.'
