Estates Gazette invited a band of top property executives for a night of student antics – comparing modern uni digs to their own college living experiences. And, just like the old days, it got messy…
It’s the pre-lash you need to watch out for,” says Jackie Sadek authoritatively, pouring herself a giant tumbler of wine. “That’s what the youngsters talk about now. The pre-lash. I think that’s meant to be the really dangerous bit.”
It’s Monday night. A cold, dark, November Monday night in Tottenham Hale. Four of the most game chief executives in property – if you’re not convinced of this yet then you will be by the end of this write-up – and an equally game magazine editor are sitting around the kitchen table of a student flat, eating crisps out of a saucepan and discussing the drinking habits of the perpetually dazed and confused.
Jackie certainly seems pretty au fait with the modern terminology though admits she picks up most of the new-fangled language from her kids. But talking student drinking and behavioural patterns is one thing. Doing it for real is another. Luckily here at EG we know how to twist an arm or two.
For one night only Jones Lang LaSalle’s Guy Grainger, the BPF’s Liz Peace, Unite’s Mark Allan, UK Regeneration’s Jackie Sadek and EG’s Damian Wild and Emily Wright have taken steps of varying sizes back in time to relive their university days. And please note that’s one whole night. No disappearing off to the warm embrace of family homes, duck down duvets and matching cutlery at 2am. We’re talking student food, student alcohol intake, student confessions, student beds and a student-style breakfast of champions [once again, see glossary for a list of acceptable components] from 8pm to 8am.
So, just how would our property chiefs fare? How long before the cravings for fresh food and crisp linen started to kick in? And how does one of Unite’s rather plush student flats compare to the digs of yore?
Box wine: Check. Skinless Asda value sausages: Check. Damian Wild’s 1988 student megamix: Check. Let the madness begin.
Pyjama booze run
As our chief execs arrive for the night, backpacks in hand, faces etched with doubt and regret at ever opening the initial e-mail from EG about all of this – let alone responding – it becomes clear that, Monday night or not, going back to university will require just as much alcohol to get through the experience as it did the first time around.
Jackie takes charge. But there’s a problem: “Two boxes of wine,” she exclaims as she opens the fridge. “Are you joking? You knew I was coming didn’t you? Well… someone is going to have to stock up. If no one else will then I’ll go. Because that sure as hell isn’t going to be enough. Nowhere near enough.”
Damian – wearing a band T-shirt from his student days which we work out is older than at least two members of the EG news desk – and Unite’s chief executive Mark Allan gallantly offer to go on a booze run as the first box of “crisp, white French grape mix” is cracked open back in the flat. Like all great vintages we discover it improves over time.
When the back-up alcohol arrives Mark declares the time has come for him to slip into his student attire – his actual PJs. He claims he didn’t arrive wearing them as it would have been unthinkable to walk around outside in them which is, of course, utterly ridiculous. Everyone knows that the supermarket is just an extension of any student flat – PJs, slippers and comedy onesies are all acceptable attire for such trips. We let him off though for the sheer brilliance of the outfit, his dedication to making sure this entire evening could happen thanks to organising the flat and (the main reason) for going out to get the alcohol when no one else could be bothered.
It would have been really helpful if he and Damian had also grabbed some loo roll while they were there as this was one thing we inadvertently missed off the initial Asda order. But the instant and universal decision to ration our limited supply of paper napkins – split between six – rather than walk five minutes back down the road to actually buy some was very much in the spirit.
By the time the fridge is stocked to Jackie’s satisfaction Jones Lang LaSalle’s Guy Grainger bundles, last but not least, through the front door in a duffle coat and a pair of thick, black-rimmed hipster glasses. “This is pretty standard for me,” he says to a chorus of shock and surprise. “I am smart at work but quite scruffy whenever I get the chance. I spend the majority of my life dressed like this.”
Double beds
Everyone seems relieved that we will all be sleeping in separate rooms – one of the main differences between the sort of sleek, modern accommodation companies like Unite offer today and the dreaded room-shares of the past. And it’s not just separate rooms – each one is en suite which is cause for great excitement. Though it is still not as big of a talking point as the size of the beds: “Well now hang on a minute,” says the BPF’s Liz Peace popping her head around the kitchen door. “Have you seen the beds? Double? That’s new. When I was a university they were very tight indeed. Especially if you weren’t alone.”
Murmurs of agreement ripple through the group and it seems appropriate to move along to the next student-style task in hand: Cooking. Our students are separated into two teams – veggie and non-veggie – and are given bags of carefully selected ingredients with which to create a suitably foul student concoction. Not difficult considering the food items are mainly revolting and have been teamed up with other, equally disgusting ingredients, none of which go together. But rules is rules. A bit of everything in the bag must be used.
The veggie team – Damian and Liz – have it pretty easy. They cobble together tomato and “rinsed” baked bean pasta with sweetcorn and grated three-cheese mix followed by banana fried in apple juice on toast. It’s still disgusting.
Guy and Mark take on the responsibility for providing the meat dish – Asda value sausage and apple casserole with ketchup, Marmite, sweetcorn, pasta sauce, grated cheese and – because they couldn’t be bothered to come up with a pudding – the zest and juice of an entire grapefruit.
Only looking back on this challenge has it become apparent that Jackie didn’t really commit to one team or the other. Crafty. She did offer great words of support from the sidelines such as “good luck getting any protein out of those love” as Guy chopped up the sausages/meat paste for his casserole.
A couple of near misses later – “Is the top heat on the hob too hot? Is that why that’s really burning the bottom of the pan?” – And dinner is served. Opinion is split. Liz and Jackie look pretty traumatised. But it’s a different story for the meat dish. Mark – eating his out of a mug – and Guy both go back for seconds and manage to finish off their entire pan-full: “I could be a student again. I really, really like this,” says Guy – clearly as surprised as anyone else by how much he is enjoying his creation. It must be the Marmite/grapefruit mix that made it so delicious.
Washing up and owning up
Of course a standard student meal would end in no one doing the washing up for a month. We let our students off this particular delightful trait as Mark would never live it down if he left one of his own flats in an authentically unpleasant state.
To his credit, he offers to tackle the mound of dirty pans and dishes solo. As everyone jumps in to help it becomes clear that might be tricky. We have no washing up liquid, no washing up cloths/scourers/brushes and no drying up cloths. Not one to give up easily, Mark soldiers on with nothing but a bottle of shower gel and a spatula. Then the contents of the infamous ‘Jar of Secrets’ – a pot filled with university confessions e-mailed prior to the event – are read out to a chorus of laughter, cringing and a few heads bowed in shame.
Finding out that Liz was head of the university planning committee and that Jackie was one of the most politically active students in her year group at Hull come as no surprise whatsoever. Guy being a roadie for a band and marrying the lead singer is more of an unexpected insight. And to find out which despicable individual microwaved a rabbit (it was dead already but still) check out our student fact boxes.
One of the house rules is no bed before 11pm and all of our students do their bit and stay awake. By 11:30pm the drinks fridge is nearly cleaned out of wine – though miraculously the 36 cans of Strongbow remain untouched – and we lose our first student to bed. But we’ll forgive him. There was a JLL board meeting the following morning apparently.
Last woman standing was Jackie. Though this was because she was catching up on her e-mails until the early hours. Not very student-like but being distracted by a mobile device way past an appropriate bedtime is – so we’ll let that one slide.
The morning after
Quiet. Very quiet indeed. Not even a cereal Variety Pack can get anyone massively animated – apart from, at a real push, Guy who is hungry enough to break into a half smile when he catches sight of them on the kitchen table next to a few empty beer bottles and a runaway sprinkling of grated three-cheese mix.
Our ‘students’ are all up by 8am as the time has come to return to the real world of presentations, meetings and, of course, that JLL board meeting.
A great laugh was certainly had by all but despite the UNITE student flat being streaks ahead of anything any of our chief executives had back when they were at university, none of them seem that sad to let themselves go. In fact they rather gleefully back out of the strip-lit apartment into the strip-lit hallway safe in the knowledge that Tuesday night would bring them back into the comfortable fold of family homes, duck down duvets and matching cutlery.
Guest edited by Unite chief executive Mark Allan
Emily.Wright@estatesgazette.com
