At any one time, half the bars and kitchens are either closed or devoid of customers. And the opening times seem fairly random, too. For instance, there’s a paid-entrance party on at 11pm, so the whole downstairs area shuts down at 10pm and everyone has to leave and come back again.
The crowds seem equally elusive. I’ve walked through here on Friday evenings and the place is packed; other times, like this Friday, it’s practically empty. Us postgrads obviously don’t have that finely-tuned undergrad sense of where the Happenings are. Nine bars and six restaurants at the last count, yet it’s always odds on the place you’re heading for will be shuttered.
Tonight it’s a party to welcome the new crop of exchange MBAs from Mannheim, and they’re a little… different to the last lot. Man, these guys are TALL. It’s like talking to trees. And not just the guys: the girls are so statuesque I half expected modelling agents to be scouting the joint.
Seeing their heads jutting above the less-lofty Warwickers make it look as if the entire cohort has been transplanted into Sherwood Forest, and the illusion’s even more appropriate when you consider the rainstorm outside is somehow penetrating the ground floor of this 3-storey building… via the roof. (Makes me wonder what this dripping water went through to get here.)
We enjoy a ‘few’ beers, and end the evening upstairs in The Graduate pub. The appalling weather has created some interesting olfactory effects, and the floor – let’s just say it has noticeable adhesive qualities. But there’s still time and room to chat to our new colleagues, about their motivations, their dreams, their hopes for the future. (Actually, those involve beer too.)