Dear T (aka Pointers when Mingling like an Adult)

As soon as my phone’s clock flicked onto 3:30, I shut the laptop lid on the essay I had been attempting to structure under the warm light of Pret’s bakery-come-cashier lights, and walked with the London Stride (you know the one: confident that you won’t be smacked by a car, even with the red man’s warning; unstoppable, even for a girl of 5 ft 3) to the train station. My destination was Kings Cross St Pancras, where I was invited to attend a ‘taster’ talk and introduction on Warwick University’s English courses, after applying a few weeks ago to them through UCAS. (Because, as some many know, next year I have applied for English Literature & Creative Writing courses to spend the next three years of my life devoted to.) And, unrelated to my anecdote, everyone at the talk was inviting, clearly intelligent through their wit and warmness (without being snobs, to put it lightly) and Warwick University is definitely a strong contender on my five university choices. And, on a further tangent, a singular pat on the back for me, for finding the place…even if I had to rely on Google Maps, then gave up, then asked in a different building for directions, and then asked the wrong person inside to ask which floor it was on. However, as the clock’s minute hand swished past to silently indicate 6, we were all invited to another room for Drinks and Nibbles and a Bit of Chat, which is adult talk for word feared for many: mingling. Along with seven other prospective students, we silently slid down the building in the lift, then were apprehensively led to the Drinks and Nibbles and a Bit of Chat room, where more students and alumni and teachers were already. Here I managed to attempt a light dusting of conversation with a student who appeared as obviously lost and mildly distressed as I was. We grabbed non-alcoholic drinks, served in adult wine glasses because we were now considered Adults in this Drinks and Nibbles and a Bit of Chat conundrum.

As we glided through the typical questions, I learnt that he (I’ll refer to him as T, incase for some 1 in a million chance he finds this and he becomes so embarrassed he refuses to attend university and simply becomes a human hermit, lodged under the bed covers) had applied to Oxford, and was all round a smart guy. The trouble arose mid-conversation, when I realised I had not asked something very important. The question swirled in my oesophagus like a whirlpool of words, and this got me thinking (steady, steady): why not create a checklist for my future self on how to approach this new Conversations in the Nature of Adults now I had experienced it, without having a parent to rely on to take over when necessary.

1. Ask their name

A full twenty minutes into our little tete-a-tete, I realised to my horror that I had not asked this guy’s name. Was it too late? Was it socially acceptable to question what his parents had labelled him? Who knows - I didn’t at the time, so through mild anguish I blurted out ‘ah, sorry, I have just realised-‘ (note I had not just realised: this had been swallowing up my overheating brain for over five minutes) ‘-that I’ve been so rude and haven’t asked you your name.’ He said his name - T - and I said mine and all was good… until another lad, G, stood near us and I beckoned him into conversation with us and repeated the whole scenario again as if I had accidentally re-read the lines to a different scene. So, what has almost-Adult Helena learnt? Ask the person’s name as soon as possible, engrain it into your skull like a memory tattoo and don’t leave it until the last minute, unless you want to rerun through that scene again.

2. Remember what they say - especially the important bits

T, with his nervous energy peaking through his otherwise laid back character, was also immensely clever, modestly dropping in that he’d only gone and got an interview at Oxford next week. Well, I may as well have been talking to a mythical God, because everyone knows Oxbridge is where the chosen ones transform into magical creatures with protruding knowledge and swishing robes. But, again, having focused so much on striking the balance between congratulations and over-excitedness on his behalf, I promptly forgot whether it was Oxford or Cambridge he had applied for. So, for the whole conversation until G came to join us, I just kept referring to it as Oxbridge. Which was mildly embarrassing not just for me but him too, as he must have wondered why Warwick were considering a student who didn’t know that Oxford and Cambridge were different places… And so, in conclusion, try to focus on what people are telling you in a conversation, especially that which will be needed for the whole hour of chat.

3. Put your damn hands down

Apparently when I am nervous, I do two very distinct - and annoying - things: I laugh continuously and nervously, usually a high-pitched and obnoxious tone that makes people physically recoil with a series of squints; or I wave my hands around like a camp shape thrower. Whether I had a glass of water precariously sloshing about in my grasp, or just flicking them around like the sassy hair-flick emoji, I could not stop them both performing an uncoordinated and frankly unrequited jive. So next time, please remember to put your hands down once in a while. For everyone’s sake.

4. Be brave

This may be either too relatable to even warrant a comment, or you are so extroverted this one appears foreign. But, as an assumed introvert, conversations with strangers give me heart palpitations. The reason I avoid change is because I avoid having to interact with new people. Don’t get me wrong, initially I love the idea of meeting people who could be new friends, but this is suddenly followed by the soul-sucking dread of messing up in conversation. And, yesterday, I did do a fair bit of messing up and trailing off and throwing my hands and laugh around. But, T (and later G) consolidated it, kept the dying embers of the chat alive until an hour later when the three of us had to depart to go home. And, if there was one regret I have, I wish I had been even braver to ask for his number, just so I knew someone if we both ended up at Warwick.

So, dear T. Thank you for not being overtly offended when I laughed too much and forgot whether it was Oxford or Cambridge and never knew how much eye contact is too much and actually staying to talk for a whole hour, even when you could have been on your way home. Also if I had anything in my teeth, I am so sorry: I had a brownie from the food market outside the train station (which I highly recommend if you are around St Pancras International Wednesday to Friday!) but too be honest I don’t regret that bit so much. And, I hope to see you at Warwick, if we both decide on it (and secure those all-dependant grades). I promise by then I will have at least read through this check list several times. And stopped waving my arms around so much.

So many people, so many to avoid a conversation with in London!