Gubbay As An Institution

Do I feel I've been institutionalised by my halls of residence, Gubbay Halls, known as Grubby Halls to those of us unfortunate enough to have lived here for the last seven months? Possibly. I am partly to blame for my situation. Naively, I sat in the comfort of my home, filling out the online application form, initially believing that we could in fact be living in the mansion cruelly pictured beside the description. This dream was soon shattered as I realised this was not the case, but I went ahead with my form, with the shining hope that I may be one of the lucky five with en-suite facilities. Of course I was not, but I had seen a few of the communal facilities available at other universities and presumed they would be the same, or at least similar. Anyway, September arrived and the car was weighed down with my possessions. I was on my way.

I will never forget that moment as we pulled up to the halls. I got out and looked up at the building above and became consumed by the grey, prison-like lifelessness that was Gubbay Halls. I looked around and could see everyone else unpacking their cars felt the same. I wasn't going to let it get me down thought as I was excited to see what my room was like and to get to know the people I would be living with. Together, my parents and I walked up the caged in stairs to my new, but thankfully only temporary home. The next ten minutes though were a complete shock to the system.

A fellow flat sharer began showing me around. First to the kitchen area, which already smelt pretty bad and had a serious lack of cupboards, with a grand total of none, and secondly to the bathroom. I'm not going to rant about this too much as there was nothing we could do but accept it, BUT, one room with two toilets, one shower, one bath and one sink, for thirteen (unisex) people to share with no windows for ventilation, is not right! Grinning and bearing it was the only option, and on the plus side my room itself wasn't a bad size.

So, seven months later, and with the end of my first year approaching, how has my life changed? My time in halls of residence were not what I expected but it has been a learning curve to say the least, with routines all in place. I have responsibilities here and for the first time, I have to look after myself. I wake up, make a cup of tea, breakfast, shower, tidy my room and take food out of the freezer to defrost if I need to. I leave and have to remember my key or I get charges. I go to the SU, buy some cigarettes and wait for the bus to take me out of the forest that is Trent Park and to the tube station. Depending on my day, I walk to uni, or I get on the tube and go shopping in London, or I get the bus and go to Asda if I need to go shopping or, more recently, I go to the Estate Agents to try and find a place for next year. In the evening I return "home", make my dinner, watch Hollyoaks then head over to one of my friends room and spend the evening with them.

The answer is , yes, I have been slightly institutionalised by Gubbay Halls as I am dependant on its facilities and we residents have to use our bedrooms also as dining room, studies, and lounges. However, if I went back to the moment when I was filling out that form applying to Gubbay Halls, I would still make the decision to live here as I have made some very good friends here and have had a good experience overall. I would still be hoping for the en-suite though.

The Saatchi Gallery

I thought I'd talk about the Saatchi Gallery because, of those that I have seen, it has had the biggest impact on me. Now, this is a pretty poor statement coming from someone who claims to be an artist, but when I was told that my class was going there on a trip, I had no idea it even existed; unlike the Tate Modern of course, where everybody has head of it, even though, a lot of the stuff isn't even that good. Anyway, I'd heard of some of the artists exhibiting there so presumed it would be an alright trip so headed there with an open mind.

I turned out that it was brilliant! The pieces on show were so powerful alone, but exhibited together were awesome. It was interactive, as you could wander in between and around the pieces with masses of colour and texture all around. It made such a refreshing change to those many galleries where you watch group after group of visitors, standing in front of painting after painting, simply reading the information card next to it, looking at the piece with "a sudden understanding", nodding and moving to the next. Here, you wanted to get involved with the pieces, staring at the craftsmanship, and occasionally touching, when security wasn't looking of course.

I was completely hooked with a new outlook on art and where I wanted to go as an artist. Bit of a shame then when shortly after my visit it closed down after the fire in the storage warehouse destroyed many works in May 2004, and the court case of October 2005, putting the London shows on hold.

It is almost time though for the next Saatchi Gallery to open in its all new Chelsea home. Of course I can't wait to see it, but I also wonder whether it will feel the same as the original. The building itself, The Duke of York's HQ building, Kings Road, Chelsea, is pretty stunning with its architectural beauty. I can't help wondering though, if all of this new "posh"ness will take away some of the magic of the work. Hopefully not.

Until then, I will remain positive in my hope and very much look forward to visiting. This time though, I'm going to make sure I get one of those damn Saatchi Gallery t-shirts that I keep seeing on the arty Londoners that I wish I'd bought when I was there.

My Guardian Guide

Another week begins, and again I am sitting here on the familiar train back to London, wondering what I am going to do with my week. I pull out the Guardian Guide and prepare my plans, as this will be all I need to fill my diary. You see, The Guardian Guide tells me all I could want to know about the up and coming events. My days of course, are spent tirelessly working away as an art student, so my nine to five's are usually taken. However, my first port of call will be this weeks exhibition review. Now don't get me wrong, TimeOut magazine is excellent fro exhibition reviews, and as a secondary resource I can check out their online reviews as well, but am I going to pay £3 a pop? No I don't think so. Instead I have this, which has the added advantage of telling me exhibitions country-wide; although not so good when you travel to Manchester to visit their William Blake exhibition of the week which turns out to not actually be that good! Regardless of that, I trawl through the listings, red pen at the ready, circling my favourites, but waiting till later to decide my personal picks of the week. People like to watch when I'm doing this, probably thinking I'm job hunting. I suppose that's better than them thinking I'm looking through the also available soul mates section.

With that complete and the constant pressure of all the work I have to do , I turn to the weekly club nights listing, searching for somewhere I can unwind at and enjoy with my friends, but also, importantly, afford. I see many of the usual pill-poppers venues and shake my head thinking of the sad seventeen year olds who want so desperately to go there and look for something more. My favourite event nights are usually there, but this week I want to find something more and use my time here to experience all of London. Again I circle ones which look interesting, but will wait till I meet my friends to see if they fancy any.

Next comes the gig listings, but I am all too aware that I am either a) too late to be able to get tickets for any of the good ones this week or b) too poor to afford them anyway! Still its worth a look.

With money on my mind I decide to look as the TV guide as, inevitably, I will have to have some nights in. Red pen at the ready, I see the pick of the week films in case there are any that tickle my fancy, as well as circling the usual Gordon Ramsey rubbish we love to watch together in our depressingly grimy halls of residence.

My time is almost ending on my journey, but my favourite part is about to begin. In my opinion, and probably many others' seeing as its on page one, the best part of the Guardian Guide is this. It is where readers get to send in their own reviews each week ranting about the ridiculousness of a certain advert, with the best one being picked by the editor. Ever since I was younger and probably didn't even understand some of the descriptive words they were using, it has made me laugh. It is an anger-charged yet chilled out review, that isn't trying to change the world with its opinions, but is simply one persons view on a subject of their choice. It points out the blatantly obvious in an intellectual manner, yet however you read it, it is taking the piss of someone else's hard work. It never fails to make me laugh, but also makes me wonder; do these people who have used their time and effort get offended when they read things like this? Probably not as the moneys' in their bank after all, but if it was me I hope I'd see the funny side.

So as I close my Guide and put it back in my bag I am ready for my week, but now wondering whether anyone is mentally ridiculing my work and hoping never to become a soulmate searcher, like those I have once mocked.