My New Room
Right now, I’m sitting in my room in Arthur Tattersall House at University College London. I like the way my room looks now, with all of my posters set up and a new carpet adorning the floor. But honestly, getting my room to look even halfway decent was a gigantic ordeal.
As a student participating in the Tufts-in-London program, I had the opportunity to choose which house I wanted to live in on campus. I took a detailed, measured look at my options, and eventually settled on Arthur Tattersall because it seemed the most centrally located. As a girl originally from Manhattan, I know the importance of location, location, location. I knew that my room at UCL wouldn’t be perfect, but I figured that it couldn’t be any worse than my freshman year housing in Tilton Hall at Tufts.
Imagine my surprise when I was told that my room would be in a dingy basement. I arrived at this sad little cave of a room and found a dead cockroach on the floor. (I’m terrified of bugs, but fortunately my mom was here to help me move in and she took care of the roach.) The carpet is a vile dark blue, the walls are a pockmarked and dirty light blue, and the curtains are a heavy and depressing midnight blue.
I’m not going to lie to you, I cried. I tried to switch rooms. But ultimately, I had to accept that this is where I’m going to be living for the next year. In order to make it presentable, my mom and I had to give my batcave a makeover, HGTV-style.
We unpacked and put up my posters, which strategically cover some of the scratches and marks in the paint. We bought a duvet from Primark, the Kohl’s equivalent of the UK, and some slippers so that I wouldn’t have to walk barefoot on the carpet. Today, we trekked out to the Ikea in Zone 3 of London. It took thirty minutes via the Underground to get to the store, and then another fifteen minutes walking, but it was worth it. I now have a delightful rug on my floor, and bed slats on my bed to counteract the ancient and sagging bedsprings.
Throughout this ordeal, I’ve had my mom with me to help me make decorative decisions and support me through the trauma. She leaves on Tuesday, September 22, and I’m scared of living in London without her. I do know that we have Messenger, Whatsapp, and Skype to bridge the distance, but I think it might be a bit harder than I thought to be away from my mom. I know that I’ll think of her whenever I stand on my delightful new rug.
There are still issues with my housing – I’m in an utterly unappealing basement. The kitchen is dingy, and I needed to buy Tupperware to hold everything to keep away the bugs. The showers are truly horrendous: I need to press a button every thirty seconds because the water turns off automatically after a short period of time. But my suitemates are lovely, and I feel like I’m already beginning to forge some bonds with them. It’s hard for me to make friends occasionally, because I’m not the kind of person who likes to go out clubbing with others. But the kindness of my new roommates makes me think that I won’t have too much trouble after all.
Overall, it’s been an incredibly stressful and emotional two days since I moved into my room at Arthur Tattersall. But looking around my room now, I feel as if this is somewhere I could live and enjoy for a year. (Which is good, because I am stuck here.) I know that my challenges are far from over, but I also think that I have a good support system to guide me through the good and the bad. My life has been turned upside down in the past week, but I know that no matter what happens, I’ll be able to rise above and thrive in adversity. My room at Arthur Tattersall taught me that lesson.