When I think back to how I felt three years ago, just about to start my degree, the thing I’m most struck by is how nervous I was. I’d heard the horror stories about student life: I was half-afraid I’d end up living in freezing halls, amid a sea of pizza boxes and beer cans, with horrible flatmates that refused to wash up.

I considered freshers’ week a hurdle that I’d have to face before I was able to actually start enjoying university. Where almost everyone around me seemed to see opportunities for socialising, sex and drinking, I saw the enormous potential for social awkwardness. I’d never been comfortable in a crowd, didn’t really drink, and since the clubs in my town were grimy and seemed to be full of lecherous, middle-aged men and ‘rebellious’ under-18s, I’d never got into the clubbing scene. I could hardly think of a less appealing prospect than a week of getting hammered and dancing with near-strangers.

Overall, I’d really been looking forward to going to university. However, it’s fair to say that as Freshers’ Week loomed, the excitement of finally going off to university was coloured by some trepidation.

In hindsight, almost all my fears were unfounded. When I arrived in my new halls the flat was tidy and my room was far larger than I’d expected. So far, so civilised. I later came to realise that the building is of far less importance than the people you live with, but an en suite and decent radiators made the transition to living away from home less daunting than I previously thought.

I hadn’t unwittingly stumbled into a model flat; we weren’t always tidy, and over the course of the year our flat saw its fair share of beer cans and pizza boxes. But I was lucky with my first-year flatmates – almost all of them had lived on their own before so were used to cleaning up after themselves. Some were on exchange programmes from foreign universities, so when I arrived they’d already been there a week for the international freshers’ celebrations. As a result, they were all in their rooms, nursing hangovers and swearing to never drink again. This had both advantages and disadvantages: I didn’t feel pressured into going out every night, but I did end up spending my first evening helping one of my new flatmates to do her laundry.

It took some time for my flat to come together as a group, which meant I often found myself turning up to things alone. Before you get the violins out though, this turned out to be one of best things that could have happened to me. It meant that I took as many new opportunities as I could to meet people and try new things; in Freshers’ week I went to film screenings and pub quizzes, and signed up to every mailing list I could find. As the cliche goes, I learned a lot about myself. I found I did actually enjoy nights out in Leeds, as well as discovering that it wasn’t the only thing students do for fun. I surprised myself on multiple occasions and gained a huge amount of confidence. I joined societies, made friends with my coursemates, and turned up to pre-drinks where I only knew one or two people – something that a few months earlier I’d probably have avoided.

It perhaps took me a little longer than some people to properly settle into university, but by seond semester I felt completely at home. I enjoyed my course, though it took a little while to get used to all the reading I was expected to do. I’ll be honest – I didn’t work as hard as I could have done (does anyone?!), and I missed my fair share of lectures. But, I’m pretty sure it hasn’t done my degree any lasting damage; and I’m glad I didn’t spend all my time time trapped in the library – there’s plenty of time for that later on. At the risk of sounding cheesy, learning to live independently, having fun and trying new experiences despite my nerves were greater personal achievements than finishing my first year with a 2:1. All things considered, I’d say I did pretty well.