One of the modules that make up the second year of English is creative non-fiction, which is a form of literature that combines the techniques of creative writing with factually accurate topics. For those who are still struggling, think travel writing, memoirs, or even blogging! Seeing as a lot of people think that a degree in English consists only of analysing Shakespeare and writing about the Romantic poets, I thought I’d share part of a piece that I wrote for this creative module. For anyone who’s considering undertaking an English degree, here’s proof that there’s a lot of fun to be had with it if creative writing is something you’re in to!
I was glad to hear my cousin say that she had found where we were going to spend our evening, although I doubted her choice when she began to lead me down a narrow alleyway, towards a bar tucked away on the side. Had my cousin not taken me, I would have either never found it or avoided it had it come in between me and my destination. Groups of friends, plastic pint cups in hand, were all glued together to form a mass huddle of strangers spilling out under a sign that read ‘Delirium Café’. As we manoeuvred our way through the pack to get to the entrance, bursts of chanting buried cheap conversation starters, and the possibility of developing life-long relationships vanished in seconds as I glided past glazed eyes that held their glance a fraction too long.
The moment I made it through the narrow doors and into the main room, my senses went into overdrive as my body attempted to process the circus hitting its every receptor. The off-putting smell of beer, combined with sweaty bodies giving off heat like radiators. The wooden ceiling and walls covered in beer trays, vintage posters and neon ad-panels, and the poster on the side of the bar that read ‘Beware pickpockets!’ with a large phallic symbol graffitied over it. The sticky wooden floor underneath my feet. Not to mention humans everywhere. Humans sat around beer barrels discussing, humans stood in close circles laughing, humans pressing against other humans to ensure that they are served next by the humans rushing around behind the bar. For someone who hates beer and gets easily irritated by large crowds of people standing on your foot, this should have been my worst nightmare. Yet there was a feeling of warm welcome as we took our place in the crowd at the bar, as if each individual that appeared was appreciated for contributing to the evening just by being there.