I unpack all the records, and the stereo Phil S. passed on to me. I put the trunk in the trunk room with all the other trunks, and then I am at a loss in my tiny room. The halls are segregated, floor by floor, so my male corridor mates in the shared kitchen pause long enough from reciting Monty Python sketches verbatim to say hello and tell me what ‘A’ Levels they did. I feel compelled to tell them I am a vegetarian and to prove it by eating some muesli with a strawberry flavoured Ski yogurt mixed through it.