Three Years in Durham: How Could I Not Be Happy Here?

Illustrated by Ella Clayton.

At this very moment, I’m writing this piece in my bedroom on my third day of self-isolation. It’s mid-June but I’m ensconced in a blanket and wearing a jacket — more fittingly, Durham ‘stash’ emblazoned with my name and role for a society, covered in flour stains from baking. The piles of books and clothes I have accumulated over the past three years are scattered around me. Many are well-worn: books annotated thoroughly, clothes literally hanging by a thread. Others are impulse-bought, with the labels still on and receipts hovering nearby. And, shamefully, some have been completely untouched since 2018. 

This is certainly not how I envisioned my final weeks at Durham to be. Like many finalists, I anticipated a packed rotation of balls and socials, languorous picnics on Observatory Hill, and celebratory meals with friends, followed by ambles around the riverbank. Yet, in reality, my housemates and I just ate whipped cream for breakfast at 11am, danced in the living room to our old playlists from first year, sanitised every surface in the house, and gagged through our LFTs and PCR tests. 

From the moment I started university, countless relatives, friends, and acquaintances have questioned my decision to study somewhere they perceived to be sankaalaa (山旮旯) - which loosely translates  to ‘the middle of nowhere’ - as opposed to Hong Kong or London. Before the pandemic, I confidently countered each question with QS university rankings (‘Number #1 in the UK for English Literature’) and a verbal whistle-stop tour of Durham’s rich history. I would show them my camera roll teeming with happy memories from nights out, brunches, riverside walks, beautiful sunsets, and the Durham Cathedral in autumn. Then I would tell them how happy I was here - joining almost every society under the sun, shamelessly starting one about my favourite beverage (bubble tea), making all these new friends, studying the degree that I had always dreamed of studying - how could I not be happy here? 

And none of this is false - I wouldn’t trade any of this for the world. The confessional flurry of first-year friendships, forged on corridor floors before chaotic nights. The existential crises over a Cafédral coffee,  swiftly followed by a cake-induced sugar high. Moving out of college, I was lucky to emerge relatively unscathed from the trials and tribulations of living with housemates. Fortunately, mine are (for the most part) lovely people and remain my closest friends at university. 

However, any reflection of my time at Durham would be disingenuous if I overlooked my growing sense of disillusionment. My happiness here is contingent upon both good fortune - meeting good and trustworthy friends - and also a position of privilege. For instance, I was not personally subject to the same levels of racism (except for microaggressions) and classism that a lot of home students experience , both at and before university -  partially because I spent the first eighteen years of my life outside of the UK.  While my circle of friends comprises both home and international students, I was often surrounded by people with similarly international backgrounds. Venturing beyond the college bubble certainly expanded my purview and urged me to shed the rose-tinted goggles of first-year. It is overwhelmingly difficult to ignore widespread student dissatisfaction due the university’s insufficient response to repeated incidents of sexual harassment, classism, racism, and homophobia on campus — experienced first-hand by many of my peers. 

As finalists, many of my friends and I find ourselves reconciling both the happy memories we made at Durham alongside our academic burnout, uncertainty about the future, and dissatisfaction with aspects of the university culture: laddishness and elitism, to name a few. We frequently compare ourselves in first year - wide-eyed freshers with too much time on our hands - with our more jaded and burnt-out third year selves. And these differences are very hard to ignore.  Three years ago, my optimism and eagerness to explore new environments was also accompanied by insecurities about fitting into a community and performing well academically. Now, my time in Durham has given me the confidence to try new things and meet new people. Significantly, I’ve learnt how to think more critically and become less complacent, and to be more forgiving to myself.  Beyond filling my timetable with events, societies, and studying, I have started to appreciate the happiness in taking long walks, long caffeine-fuelled conversations, and basking in the sunlight.