[In 1991, UWA, in a situation that was repeated at universities up and down the country, accepted many more first year students than it could actually accommodate. It handled this dilemma by stuffing them into every odd corner it could find and waiting until sufficient numbers that lacked staying power dropped out. This article (any resemblance to people or events blah, blah), prompted by the kind of self-righteous anger about such circumstances that 20 year olds can muster so easily, brought me into the Courier editorial fold. It is dedicated to all those whose first memories of Aber will always be a mattress in the sports hall, in the hope that their later memories were much fonder.]
With parts of Penglais campus now increasingly resembling a Sally Army centre, voices from many quarters crying "No! No more! There's no more room [gasp]", the Guild yelling "Foul!" and the college saying innocently "What accommodation problem?", I felt it was time for a full investigation into the facts surrounding The Great Accommodation Crisis Of 1991. To this end, I managed to interview several key figures involved in the current situation.
My first port of call was to the man playing with a central role in the day-to-day regulation of current accommodation: the Acting Vice-Principal for Sleeping Bags and Matresses, Harold "Room for more up top" O'Meegan. Seated in the spacious pine-panelled kitchen of his well-appointed home, the Vice-Principal assured me that "this whole scenario has been grossly exaggerated. Whilst there is some overcrowding, inevitable at this time of year, there are no problems at all. I believe the students are quite satisfied with the situation for now, and it will soon all blow over. No one is suffering substandard accommodation. Haha, perish the thought!"
No one, eh? I spoke to Darren Phelps, a first year currently housed in
what was the Penbryn Study Room, but which is now the Penbryn
Room-For-Another-Dozen-In-Here:
"Well, at first I was a bit disappointed but I was quite pleased to
discover that I did at least have a wardrobe ... but then it turned out
that the wardrobe was where I was sleeping. They'd already run out of
mattresses and space to put them. Unfortunately, I still haven't got the
key to unlock it."
Elsewhere in Penbryn, Phillip Jones, a first year economist, was luckier.
He has a single room to himself:
"It wasn't quite what I was expecting but I was surprised by the
facilities."
Erm, what facilities?
"The en-suite toilet! Well, to be strictly accurate, it's actually a
toilet cubicle with an en-suite mattress. Gets a bit busy in the late
evenings, which can be a distraction, but you can't complain, can you? At
least, if you do, no one takes any notice. I did write to the
Vice-Principal asking for alternative accommodation but he hasn't replied
yet."
Back in the Vice-Principal's exceedingly nice college house, I asked him
if he had received Phillip Jones' letter:
"Erm....I don't think so. It probably got lost in the post. But I have
had all these other letters. Look at them! And they're all from freshers
saying how pleased they are with the superb arrangements we've been able
to provide for them!"
I glanced at a few briefly. A typical example is the following: "I must say how overjoyed I was to find that I was sharing a room with seven other fellows! We have such a jolly time together, playing chess and helping each other with our studies. It was a good way of getting to know people - well done, I knew I could rely on the college!"
Unfortunately the effect was spoilt by the Vice-Principal's secretary bringing a further pile of letters for him and saying "I've written that other batch you wanted, Harold." At which point, this esteemed man turned slightly pale and stuffed them in a drawer before I could read them, saying "Yes well, no point reading any more, they all say the same!" I bet they do.
Sitting down again amidst the genteel surroundings of his lovely home, Professor O'Meegan continued: "Really, I know it may seem a bit inconvenient but the spirit showed by the students in this situation is truly fantastic! Why only the other day, I found several of them enjoying a communal game of basketball!"
That may be because they're living on a basketball court in the Sports
Hall, Vice-Principal. And it was there that I next took my notepad where,
picking my way between the sleeping bags and sobbing freshers, I managed
to talk to Dafydd Gwyneth, a new arrival who was marginally more cheerful
than the rest.
"Well obviously it's a bit of a hassle having to keep out of the way of
the Basketball Club during their games, but it's a step up from the bus
shelter I was going to be living in. And the rent is cheaper too!"
The rent???!!!
"Oh, it's only twenty quid a week. I suppose it's a bit expensive for
what's on offer but what choice do you have? Particularly as all the
telephone boxes are now occupied. There's nowhere left to go."
However, for Dafydd, things are looking up:
"Me and a couple of mates have the chance of a house of our own. It's a
bit far out but well, the trains from Cardiff are quite regular, aren't
they? Mind you, it'll be a bit difficult if we want to pop out to the
library ..."
Over in his beautiful residence, the Vice-Principal was offering further
assurances that a solution was close at hand:
"Oh yes, no doubt about it. Give us time and everyone will be properly
accommodated. And if we can handle this, I'm sure we can cope with the
extra 500 for next year's intake...erm, don't write that bit down, will
you? It's supposed to be classified. But I can categorically state that
myself and all the other officers of the College are working extremely
hard every day to alleviate the few problems remaining."
Pausing to take a phone call and confirm his golfing game for the
afternoon, the Vice-Principal resumed:
"It is a bit sad to hear the accusations against us, alleging
profiteering and mismanagement, not to mention the blame, but I'm sure
that the majority of students are giving us their full support through
this difficult period."
At this point the interview was terminated by the Vice-Principal leaping up from the table and pointing wildly out of the window, yelling "Hey, some bastard's camping on my lawn!!!"
As he ran out in distress and I gathered my belongings to leave, I couldn't help detecting a strange smell in the air, but decided that there must be some muck-spreading occurring nearby. Walking back down the drive away from a house that any estate agent would give his right testicle for, I observed the Vice-Principal engaged in heated debate with a group of students who had apparently pitched a tent in his garden. The words "Haven't you people got anywhere to live??!" drifted across the well-manicured lawn.