- Smoke coming out the microwave
- Swivel-chair racing in the corridor
- Fresher’s reps who are passed out before 11pm
- Unexplained halls rivalries
- That one who keeps talking about their Gap Yah
- The one who has partner from home visit every weekend
- Making skittles vodka
- Baywatch in Jester’s
- Missing your welcome lecture
- Fresher’s flu
- Playing Never Have I Ever
- The North/South Rivalry
- Free Space
- The kid who wants to try drugs and gets ripped off by a dealer
- Trying to cook baked beans and somehow getting it wrong
- That one who goes to waitrose
- Destroying your JCR shirt
- Having a chunder chart on the fridge
- Joining an obscure society
- Starting a new sport
- Not going into the Hartley until November
- Already getting leaflets from lettings agents
- Unimaginative halls songs
- Fire alarm at 3am
- ‘Wars’ with flat on floor above or below
Your ultimate guide to Hartley Library
So, it’s about November and you have decided that you might perhaps darken the doors of the Hartley Library, the field of screams. After all, first year doesn’t count and the guy in the flat with a grad job virtually in the bag already is a tosser anyway. You enter the doors and through the turnstiles, eager to get down to work. But the building would make the labyrinth of Knossos look simple and easily laid out, so where should you work? Which floor is best?
The first floor, actually downstairs from where you enter just to increase disorientation, is the casual floor. If you’re here, you’re not really there to get work done. You’re there to tell yourself you did five hours in the library and so you can spend what remains of your loan on quad vods. Loud groups talking on the round tables, by the stairs and an utter dearth of plug sockets make this the floor for the student not particularly bothered about having a productive session. Which is probably OK if you’re an English student.
The second floor, by the entrance, is perhaps the worst floor. Not very many seats, but worst of all, you can look out the windows to the civilised world outside. Much like the prisoner with a cell overlooking freedom, the psychological trauma is simply too much for many and work may not actually happen. Also, virtually none of the books are kept here, ensuring long walks if you actually still use paper books for the nostalgia feel.
The third floor is a more promising bet on the outside, but is perhaps the purgatory floor. It has the optimum ratio of books and work spaces, and a few decent plug sockets to boot. However, everybody else has the same idea. You’ll have to show up at about 5am to get a desk during the exam season, and good luck finding one at any other time.
The fourth floor is fairly quiet but, mostly given over to quiet space where computers are not allowed. This is excellent if you are a time-traveller from 1988. However, the reading rooms given over to this are probably the closest our beloved campus comes to classic interior design, with tasteful bookcases and paintings accompanying the wooden desks and staircase up to the fifth floor. One for the atmospherics, although you won’t be able to enact your intellectual fantasies with a brandy and cigar up here.
The fifth floor might be the quietest, but this is for a good reason. There are strange things on the browsing histories up here. If you thought porn was the worst thing you could browse in a public place, you need some imagination. Un-ironic 4chan posting and watching children’s’ cartoons such as My Little Pony go up here, as does seemingly sleeping on the desks all the time. There is a film resource room which is quiet and rarely more than half full, but only humanities students get a card for this. Make friends if you are not a member of the seven contact hours club to gain entry.