This esteemed and established paper has thought it fit to pluck me from the gutter, shove a pen in my shaking hand and allow me once more to don the cape of student stardom. But now I speak not as the naive and idealistic first year of 1995, but as the slightly less naive and idealistic third year of the present who last summer miserably failed his exams at first attempt.
So what advice does the man-about-town, socialising raconteur such as I am, bestow on students who this autumn will embark on a journey through academe? Unbelievably, one manages to collect a few useful tips about "real life" as one jouneys through the sheltered little tunnel of the college surroundings.
Basically, for the next three years or so your lives will undoubtedly revolve around quaffing obscene amounts of alcohol-containing liquids and projecting them in the reverse direction; half attempting not to be spotted by members of the opposite sex while ogling over dance floors; and, when the cherry blossoms are falling, purloining seats in overburdened libraries and desperately predicting papers.
The pub, the club and the party will dictate your whereabouts. With a bit of luck, after about 18 months of same, you will attempt something incredibly moronic after the consumption of twenty pints of petrol and either mend your ways in shame and guilt, and realise that life contains far more varied gems than just the tarnished stone that is alcohol, or die. At least, that's what happened to me. Fret not: this is not an advocation of abstinence - just the advice that a lot of drink is a very lethal thing. Of course, a little or slight excess is not to be frowned upon.
When I first arrived in Galway, my expectations were that 90 per cent of students would automatically possess the same taste in music as me - the usual indie/alternative tripe. Much to my disillusionment, it was revealed through that medium of Lucifer, the jukebox in the canteen, that as many college-goers like the unholy Alliance of Oasis, Alanis Morrisette and their nauseous minions as anyone else.
So, if you arrive at your chosen institute with the anticipation of meeting long-haired louts sporting Dinosaur Jr t-shirts, playing Stone Roses and discussing the intricacies of a Morrisey lyric, better to stay at home in a coccoon.
Guitarists and singers are rife - at least those who think they can - but bass players and drummers are rare breeds, at least on this side of the Shannon. If any musicians land in Galway, however, and are content to generally do all the hard work and fill in the background, whilst I sing, play guitar and write the songs ( or think I can), then the address is 72 Hazel Park. To be honest I just want to play in a band and make some half decent music.
One of the more enjoyable aspacts of college life is the sudden abudance of the opposite sex of a similar age - or, for a small but significant minority, the same sex. Having spent five years at an all-male Christian Brothers' school, and having become accustomed to the typical terrified-animal-in-front-of-the-headlights approach to encounters with girls, this came as a pleasant surprise at first.
The sheen inevitably wore off. But not quick enough. Every student will eventually find it impossible to amble around the campus without thinking "Oh my God I can't believe I actually . . . " at the sight of certain people. Basically, though, it would be inhuman to pass through these years without making one or two frightful blunders as regards girls (or boys), so prepare yourselves for blushes.
On the other hand, strive to avoid falling hopelessly and heedlessly in love, because these things are always too good to be true, and one will only emerge with heartbreak and moping for months.
And a final word of preaching from my pulpit - remember that college , when all the padding and the fluff is stripped off it, consists of a place where one is educated so that one can one day live on the dole, serene in the knowledge that one could impress most anyone with one's grasp of classical civilisations and archaeology. So do not fail. I learnt this only at the expense of my holidays last year. I plan never to lose like this again. It is possible , believe me, to go out as much as one desires , or play guitar or read or watch television and still pass. One must catagorise the time and avoid excess vegetating.
And that, young freshers-to-be, is about the all of it - so just don't die of alcohol poisoning: don't expect to astound others with your `fabulous' taste in music; don't fall in love; above all don't fail. This I advise.
