The Morning After
Yes, we’ve all been there. Waking up at ten past nine with significant memory loss, a pounding headache, unsettled stomach and then realising that you only have five minutes to get to your tutorial, and you can forget about any kind of coherent speech. It is indeed a true evocation of student life. However, when you’re feeling lost and fragile in such a way, what can you do? Typically, Costcutter will have run out of paracetamol or any other form of medical assistance and you daren’t brave the long walk to the health centre. Thus we are faced with a problem, especially if you happen to be a first year student, unsure and lost in a new place.
Well, never fear, because nouse has come to your rescue. In the name of journalism, some of the more hardcore Bar and Restaurant section writers and editors got together in order to induce a hangover significant enough to cure. The more committed to our cause actually managed to drag themselves from their warm and inviting beds to meet at Derwent bar despite the lurid colour scheme (not easy on the hungover eye) at the ungodly hour of nine-thirty.
Derwent- a full English fry up
Derwent bar offered up a very traditional hangover “cure” of a nice greasy fried breakfast – egg, mushrooms, sausages, bacon and hash browns for £2.33. In such contexts, the term “cure” needs to be used very loosely. The beans looked a bit like they’d been sitting there just a tad too long – yum – dried baked bean skin. Despite this, the food actually wasn’t that bad; nice buttery mushrooms, salty bacon (alas – non-runny egg), and it did make you feel a little bit more lively. But of course, that’s all well and good while you’re still seated. Stand at your peril: greasy food + attempt at movement = severe tombola stomach.
So, even though full English may smell like a good idea first thing on a groggy morning, perhaps Derwent bar isn’t the best place to go. As a fellow experimenter described his hangover – “when you stand up, you can really taste it”. Hmmmmm. Nice.
Langwith- a cold pint of milk
Without much sadism or indeed originality, the response from the Langwith staff was some vitamin C and Panadol. However, having conceded that they had none of these sensible options in their possession, they decided to ply us with a pint of milk.
At first glance, drinking a pint of milk seems like an easy task. Not so. The girls proved their stamina at this point, while the men simply couldn’t rise to the milky occasion and finish their “cure”. This was indeed a wholesome option: after we had complied, we felt very healthy and clean…for about two minutes. Following this period of relative stability, the unsettling feeling of milk curdling in the pit of your stomach was not a comfortable one, especially when you are feeling more than a little fragile on the morning after the night before. Our advice for Langwith students- don’t be fooled by the illusion of a healthy option!
Vanbrugh- cranberry & orange juice
“Don’t get so drunk in the first place” was the official line of Vanbrugh College. After receiving this kind sympathy, we felt the need to harden our spirits in preparation for what was in store for us. All in vain. The best Vanbrugh could do was tempt us with a placebo of orange and cranberry juice.
As with the milk, it felt wholesome; but unlike the milk it did not ‘in-juice’ uncomfortable and sick making reactions. However, after a while the taste became reminiscent of the alco-pops consumed the night before by my less masculine comrades, who could not stomach pints of beer as well as the average nouse writer. Having said that, this is not as bad as actually using the toilets in Vanbrugh College Bar, the garish bright-yellow colour of which is disturbing enough to encourage anyone with a raging hangover to crawl back to bed and never venture forth from it again.
Wentworth- a teaspoon of Worcester Sauce
Our steadily dwindling, disorientated and hungover group of first years somehow managed to navigate its way to the obscure location of Wentworth College, hoping there would finally be an effective “cure” from the learned and experienced postgraduates. How wrong we were! The hardened and embittered Wentworth College bar staff decided that raw egg with a teaspoon of Worcester sauce would do the trick.
Usually first years such as myself interpret the phrase “health and safety regulations” as a euphemism for “regulations that endeavour to spoil as much of our fun as possible”. However, I retracted my quick judgement when the aforementioned regulations proved a good excuse for the illegality for campus bars to serve us raw eggs. Nice to know they care. Yet I had retracted too soon, as we were served a teaspoon of Worcester sauce despite the restrictions on raw egg consumption.
As you can imagine, it did nothing positive for our fragile stomachs, yet managed to remind me of the tequila consumed the night before. “A” for effort, “F” for attainment.
Goodricke (Roger Kirk Centre)- milkshake
The pleasant surroundings of the Roger Kirk Centre of Goodricke College eased our tired eyes as we anticipated a classy “cure” from this new and attractive venue. How wrong we were! The gleefully cheery staff who introduced themselves as Jane, Wendy and Aly, were more than prepared to make us a suitably nauseating cure despite the restrictions on raw egg consumption. They came up with a repulsive milkshake containing brown sauce, tomato ketchup, salt and orange juice. Surprisingly enough, this exciting concoction is not on the menu, but the lovely staff were willing to create the “cure” for us in the best humour.
In the name of journalism we dutifully had a gulp each, nearly vomiting each time, much to the amusement of our new found friends. As you can imagine, it did nothing for our hangovers, except to perhaps make them worse.
However, the situation was saved from being completely dire when the chef shamelessly plugged a new product to be introduced, “Café Met Choc ‘o’ Latte”, which proved to be delicious with a pecan danish pastry, and certainly made up for the revolting brew consumed earlier. All in all, highly recommended.
Alcuin- “the hair of the dog”
After having been whipped all over our fragile bodies by the fountain of the main lake on our way to Goodricke, the Alcuin College “cure” of “the hair of the dog” seemed much more preferable than our experience of hair of the duck.
We were informed that for a successful experience of this particular cure, we needed to consume a sample of what we were drinking the night before. However, having frequented many of the college bars and then on to Ikon for “all you can drink” night, the memories of how much, or indeed what we had ingested the previous evening were more than a little hazy. However, we did our best and had a relaxing break over a nice pint in the more than slightly scarily Ikea-inspired Alcuin Bar.
As our last stop on this journey of discovery, we were relieved to find that the “cure” which awaited us was nothing quite as bad as the ones we had previously endured. It was perhaps the best ending to our ordeal we could have hoped for, despite being slightly ironic that cause and cure had reverted to one. Relaxed and sated, we returned to our beds, where we should have stayed in the first place.
Halifax- disappointment
Lost and in the middle of a field we searched hopelessly for Halifax College to obtain our next “cure”. Mud clogging our trousers we trudged along a seemingly endless path. Once we actually reached our goal and noticed the suspiciously subversive Costcutter monopoly on campus; we discovered JJ’s was an impenetrable locked battlement, which we were unable to infiltrate. Needless to say, we did not have the last laugh.
So our epic journey came to a close, what did we learn from our experiences? Not much really. Surprisingly enough, Worcester sauce and horrific milkshakes don’t do much for a delicate stomach just as a lurid décor doesn’t do much for a headache. Our main finding was that bar staare more than happy to fill you up with booze in the evening; but come complaining to them the morning after the night before and you will get no sympathy.
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