University offers some real lessons in finance
In The Red
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.Ah, Fresher's week. Hellish, really, of you think about it. Hundreds of confused strangers forced through a series of bonding activities, all while hovering somewhere on the nauseating spectrum between hungover and intoxicated. It's like a hen do, only with pressure. These are the people, or so you're told, with whom you will become Life Long Friends! So if you wind up lunching with the dark-eyed psychopath on corridor nine, tough. Add to that the newfound financial responsibilities of a house outside the parental home and, well, you've got a recipe for disaster.
It was eight years ago that I went up to Edinburgh University, a naïve 18-year-old who knew not a soul in the city, let alone on campus. My fresher's week was...eventful. Probably not in a good way, on reflection. It was also expensive. So much for student finances. When you think you've only got a week to make friends, suddenly money no longer matters. The term-long supply of biscuits your mum packed for you? Gone in a flash. Travel fund? Hello, 40-minute walk to lectures. Beer money? Well, it's all beer money at that stage, isn't it? I lost both my favourite jacket (a vintage velvet number passed on from my mother) and my room keys on the first night. I didn't lose my phone – but my new partner in crime did.
Living in halls as a fresher, I didn't really get my financial education until second year. Only then did I start budgeting for groceries. It was only then that I was faced with regular bills: electricity, gas, council tax. Even so, I managed to fob this off onto a flatmate. Not the paying part, of course – but the organisation that such regular instalments require. Each quarter, she would sit down with her detailed workings-out on a scrap of paper, and we would dutifully hand over the money. Tellingly, while I now waste hours calling my mobile phone company to explain why I forgot to pay my bill, or crouching next to my broadband router because I can't figure out how to make it work properly, she is happily married, with a job in the civil service.
Perhaps it would have helped to be a little more clued up in the finance stakes before I arrived. But it wasn't the end of the world. There are always people around to help – and you pick it up eventually. If not, well, there's always a job in the student canteen.
a.jarvis@independent.co.uk
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments