Like many, I made the pilgrimage to Sheffield for uni. I spent the summer of 2021 oozing with excitement for my move. I can remember when I went to Reading Festival, as is tradition when you finish your A-Levels, two weeks before I was about to leave home, and I happened to meet someone in the crowd at Sam Fender who was already studying in Sheffield. “You’ll love it, mate. It’s class,” they shouted, before disappearing into the depths of a mosh pit.
That’s all anyone had ever told me. My uncle and auntie who met studying in Sheffield some 20 or so years earlier. A customer I got talking to at the cosy little pub I work in at home as I pulled him a pint. All I had ever heard about the city were songs of praise from its chorus of fans. This only excited me more, but I was still scared. What if my Sheffield wasn’t like everyone else’s Sheffield?
It wasn’t like I was moving far, but I was nervous to be somewhere new, somewhere a whole lot bigger than home. I had many petty disagreements with my mum about just how far away the tiny town of Droitwich Spa was from Sheffield. “Google Maps says it will take one hour and 50 minutes, so it definitely won’t take more than two hours,” she would say. Thanks to the traffic on the M1, I still believe we have never done the journey in under two hours.
Olivia (third from left) with her uni pals
But, when hanging up my Polaroid pictures on the bare walls of my room in Endcliffe Student Village, displaying 18 years of friendships and memories, it really hit me that I was almost 120 miles from where most of those memories had been made, without any of the people who I had made them with.
Very quickly, however, those 120 miles seemed like they could be just down the road. I was immersed in a city that soon felt friendly and familiar. It took me a matter of weeks to realise I had found my people and found a genuine home-away-from-home. It may be the ‘Steel City’, but Sheffield has this inexplicable character, reminiscent of a warm embrace.
I found comfort in the way my calves burnt from tackling the many, many hills in the city (new ones always seeming to spawn overnight). I established a routine packed with independent coffee shop dates and summer days spent basking in Crookes Valley Park. Even the late night sessions stressfully cramming in the IC library hold a special place in my heart; those random conversations fuelled by delirious laughter will be the ones I smile about when they pop into mind in five years’ time. It’s easy to romanticise your life here: look past the ring roads and grey high-rises and you’ll encounter a treasure trove of beauty.
My friends and I soon became regulars at several West Street staples. We would, and still do, spend our nights belting out some quintessential anthem in Molly Malones or dancing until one of us falls off the benches in Bierkeller (which only resulted in hospitalisation once). We have become all too familiar with ROAR Wednesdays and developed an unrequited love affair with Tiger Work’s five pound round, which is probably the culprit to what we have dubbed the ‘post-Foundry depression’ that plagues us on dreary Thursday mornings.
Me and my flatmates were inducted into Sheffield’s Hall of Fame when our picture was put up on the wall of Aslan’s Kebabs. We found it absolutely hilarious, yet at the same time also felt a sense of pride. That picture has cemented us in an albeit microscopic but still, to the student population anyway, iconic snippet of Sheffield culture. This was over a year ago now, so it has probably been covered by another picture group of flatmates grinning through drunk eyes, but we will always be up there somewhere.
I proudly boast about my adventures in the city to my friends from home, constantly trying to convince them to visit. After their first trip to Sheffield, they soon understood the hype I had managed to create. There is something special about watching my two worlds, life at home and life at uni, collide and complement each other so well. I will always remain indebted to the 18-year-old me who made the choice to come here.
This place has gifted me many ‘firsts’ in my life, for which I will be forever grateful for. I had my first baby Guinness in Sheffield. I caught a tram for the first time in Sheffield. I did my first food shop for myself in Sheffield. I spent my first day in my twenties in Sheffield. I had my first date in Sheffield. I fell in love with someone for the first time in Sheffield.
I still have one year left studying in the city, but there is a voice inside me that knows this won’t be my last year here. Amongst those Polaroid pictures which I still have hung on my wall, albeit now in my second year house, are portraits of the amazing people I have met and the amazing city into which I have been adopted. I’m having too much of a ‘reyt’ good time to think about leaving it all behind just yet.
Read more of Sheff resident’s City Views here.
