So, I can’t think of anymore good stories. Or at least ones substantial enough to fill a blog. Does this mean my memory is shot or just that I have led a dull life? (Speaking of which I like that song – Dull Life).
Anyway, in the absence of a story (if anyone has one I should tell, lemme know) I will tell small anecdotes from college.
So, year 1 – OK enumerating by years is a bad idea. It’ll get too fuzzy. So forget that. This may or may not be a first year memory. My first three years of university I lived at St. Joseph’s College on the University campus. So it is like Lister, but different. Differences include only 50 people, all guys, the dean of residence is a priest, no shared rooms and the food was excellent.
Oh – I have a story after all. It was actually one I missed most of. We had a snooker table on the fourth floor and a beer fridge in the basement. With effort you could make those two things go together. Anyway, one night, it was getting late and the trips downstairs were getting too strenuous. My solution was to go to bed. The other guys decided to cut down on the commute and go to the bar.
Later that night I heard some people sneaking back into the building. My room was on the 2nd floor facing the back – so you can get an idea of their sneaky success. I wasn’t the only one alerted – Campus 5-0 was on their trail too.
One of the bad habits some folks in the door had that year was stealing signs to decorate their dorm rooms. They once stole a Campus 5-0 sign. Stupid petty vandalism and to boot they kept the evidence of the crime.
Anyway, on their return from the bar the guys had decided it was good sign stealing weather.
So, I was awoken by sound like “Shh! Don’t make any noise.”, “We need to be quiet.” and “Who thought to bring a flashlight? That’s a good idea.”
The college is U-shaped and the rear door, which they were approaching was on the inside base of the U. There was nowhere to go except into the building or back towards the flashlight.
“Stop!” came the command from the flashlight bearer. One, quicker on the uptake than most, dropped his sign and put his hands in his pockets (I had gone to the window to see what was the matter).
“Pick up the sign – I can see it there – on the ground – at your feet,” said 5-0, “and don’t even think about running. They had been too drunk to consider running before, but you could see them considering it now. Their heads swung back and forth frantically, but their was nowhere to go.
“Come with me and bring the signs.”
The dorm mate with the most experience led the way saying “Been there, done that, wrote the pamphlet.”
As the light and the drunken fools disappeared back into the night As they left I heard protests of innocence and begging for clemency. “I can’t go to jail – I’m in Engineering”
The next morning their rooms were still empty – or they weren’t answering. But it turned out they had spent the night in the clink.
Let it never be said that jail can’t reform a person. To a man they all swore never to steal signs again. Or drink excessively. They kept at least one of those vows. And now, years later, they are all upstanding functioning members of society, unlike, say, myself.
I’m not sure what the moral of the tale is. Maybe, close your window if you don’t want the sounds of vandals to wake you in the night.
(I’ve redacted all names to protect the guilt of the completely guilty.)
(Wow – reading that through is confusing. Sorry. You are brave to have made it to the end.)