#nostalgiauk

NOSTALGIA UK

With A-Level "kids" in London (Christmas 1994)

The first half of my first semester flew by in a blur, and before I knew it, Christmas had arrived. I think it was Sani (my Jenan mate) who told me that the entire Morrison's Academy group was heading down to London and insisted me to join them. With no other plans and Stag Hill campus that had turned eerily silent, I thought—why not? It was only 30 minutes away by train from Guildford.

Looking back, it’s strange, the things that stick in my mind—random, arguably insignificant fragments of my history.

I remember Farouk cooking rice porridge with one whole chicken for dinner one night. But, as the late Dolores O'Riordan said, maybe it was "just my imagination". Could the rice cooker really have been that big? The chicken couldn't have been that small. Who knows—but that’s what my memory insists.

One particular night, either on Christmas Day or Boxing Day, we went out as a group (to eat?). Until today, whenever I am in London during Christmas, the mood from that night always drifts back into my thought—it was damp, biting cold, and a London so quiet that it felt like an entirely different city. That was when I learned that, during the Christmas break, London practically shuts down.

Apart from them, there were Sani, Suhaimi @ Mat Hai, Dian, and I believe Azmy @ Kun or Coon too. Then Mukhriz, possibly Shahrin, Ghazaly @ Ustaz, Faisal and I'm sure a few of others too whose names escape me completely now. All of them have gone on to achieve great success in their careers, and a couple I think have ended up marrying each other (have they?)

NOSTALGIA UK

The Quiet Centre (late 1994, early 1995)

Back then, the nearest mosque was in Woking, a short train ride from Guildford. It would cost money, and without a car, getting there was a bit of a hassle—especially in between lectures. In fact, I only found out about that mosque much later, probably in my second year.

On one edge of campus, right next to the Guildford Cathedral, stood the university’s Quiet Centre—a small, cylindrical, single-story building designed as a multi-faith space. Through the Islamic Students Society, the muslim students were granted permission to use it for Friday prayers, as well as other religious activities like iftar and terawih during Ramadhan.

It was here that I truly began to observe and understand the different mazhabs and the subtle variations in practice. If there was ever a model for a united Muslim organisation, this was it. Regardless of nationality or background, everyone came together under the banner of Islamic Students Society—Pakistanis, Mauritians, Malaysians, Indonesians, Egyptians, Bruneians, Iranians, Lebanese, Singaporeans, Jordanians, Africans, Bangladeshis—you name it. Diversity was embraced.

At the time, our imam at the Quiet Centre was a Lebanese PhD student, whose name I might recall later (though his face and presence remain crystal clear in my mind). He was a man of remarkable character—his demeanour, his kindness, and the way he spoke to others all left a lasting impression. His khutbahs were unique—he delivered them with his eyes closed, hands placed on his midriff (in the position of prayer), speaking straight from the heart.

If we remember, the years 1994 and 1995 were marked by the Oslo Accords, leading to the formation of the Palestinian Authority (PA) under the leadership of the late Yasser Arafat. If there was anyone was most affected and opinionated about it, it would be those closest to the situation—and the Imam, being Lebanese, was one of them. Many of his sermons centred around the Palestine-Israel conflict, particularly the developments surrounding the Oslo Accords.

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NOSTALGIA UK

Fuzzy, darkish, messy (1994)

One downside of living on campus? The absolute chaos of weekend nights.

Come weekend nights, the whole place went wild. Parties popped up here and there. Students were doing all sorts of crazy things—anything goes. There were rules, at the same time no rules. I could just picture some stumbling back to their rooms, puking along the way—if they even made it back at all. It was a total mess. You’d hear screaming, laughter, shouting, moaning, girls singing, blasting music, door banging, you name it. Luckily I didn’t live too close to the Students' Union—that would've driven me insane . The first-years were the worst, those who just just came off age. Girls wore the skimpiest dresses they could find, summer or not, flocking to the Bojanglez club down town if not the union's club. Boys wore jeans so loose they were barely hanging on.

On some residence halls' floors—including mine at Battersea Court—the kitchen became the party hub. The lights would go off, some random disco light would be set up. It was all about drinking, dancing, getting wasted till early morning. I joined a couple of times. But honestly, it wasn’t my thing, plus I was a very socially awkward kid. I could stand the music and all, but the alcohol and cigarettes? Nope. The sheer stench of beer was always disgusting to me. And dealing with drunk people? Not fun at all. After a while, I started avoiding the whole thing altogether.

Luckily, I had my priorities straight. The first year was tough, and it was tough for three reasons:

- I didn’t do A-Levels, so some of the math topics were a bit out of my league.

- My English had improved quite a bit, but minor subjects such as sociology, psychology and economics demanded another level of proficiency altogether

NOSTALGIA UK

The small town of Guildford (1994)

Coming from Glasgow, Guildford felt like a stark contrast—tiny in comparison. Tiny, yet undeniably charming.

Located south of London on the way to Portsmouth, Guildford sat along A3 road or a direct train line from Waterloo. The town itself rested on a gentle incline, as much of the surrounding region was hilly. At its heart, Guildford was centred around just two main streets, one of which—the high street—was entirely pedestrianised. I remember the town being remarkably tidy, peaceful, and never too crowded, with a postcard-perfect charm.

The cobbled high street sloped gently uphill, flanked by two rows of historic shopfronts. As you ascended, you came across an ornate old clock, suspended by a side arm attached to one of the buildings. Turning back, you would be rewarded with a breathtaking view of greater Guildford and the rolling hills beyond. At the foot of the High Street, the River Wey flowed beside it, adding to the town's charm.

Like many English towns, Guildford had its main shopping mall—the Friary Centre, if I remember the name correctly. Some of the bigger stores, however, were scattered around the High Street or tucked into quieter corners. Debenhams, a major name back then (now gone, I believe), stood in its own building beside the River Wey. I used to buy discounted perfumes there as gifts to take home for summer. Marks & Spencer held a spot on the High Street, as did my go-to clothing store, Topman, though it was somewhat hidden inside a small arcade. There was also a small Sainsbury’s, and of course, WH Smith, the ever-present British bookstore. At the entrance to a walkway connecting the town’s two main streets sat a watch and jewellery shop, a landmark of sorts in my memory.

Tucked behind the right row of shophouses as you ascended the High Street was the Guildford Castle. A medieval relic dating back to the 11th century, it sat in a serene garden that burst with colour in spring and summer, offering a peaceful retreat from the town’s centre.

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The Stag Hill Campus in the 90s

The thing about Surrey, a campus university, as opposed to a city university, is that everything was contained within a single defined area. And when I say everything, I mean everything—academic departments, computer labs, the library, student accommodations, the Students’ Union, medical centre, restaurants, bookshops, a sundry shop, the sports hall & gym, a bank, and even a laundrette. That first week was all about getting to know the campus.

The university was built on the slopes of Stag Hill, with the beautiful Guildford Cathedral towering above it. There were two main entrances/exits:

The West "Gate" – Primarily for vehicles, connecting to the A3, the main road linking London and Portsmouth.

The East "Gate" – The main student entry point and the bus route into Guildford town.

If you walked from West to East, here’s what you’d see, straight from my memory:

The campus gym and sports hall sat just inside the West Gate, where we, the Malaysian students, played badminton once a week. Across from it was the Toxicology Department, the only department building I remember being gated. A little further up was the Dance & Art Studies Department—at the time, I found it interesting that a university offered such courses. Behind it was Cathedral Court, one of the residence halls, and further up the slope was the Quiet Centre, where Friday prayers, iftar, and Tarawih prayers were held. Across the street from Dance & Art Studies Department, a small path led to Twyford Court, one of the pricier residence halls, next to a large football field.

At this point, the road split into two:

The left path led through two rows of tall buildings connected by glass bridges. Chemical Engineering was one of the first departmentd on the left I remember. Further up was Maths & Computing, my department, followed by the renowned Satellite & Telecommunication Department—possibly one of or the reason for then-Prime Minister Dr. Mahathir’s visit in 1995. Walking further would take you to Stag Hill lake.

The right path led to the university library, with a large 24-hour shared computer room attached to it. A narrow walkway next to it took you to SPAR, our go-to convenience store and concrete stairs to the university bookstore. Opposite the library entrance was the campus laundrette. Further up, the main university canteen sat on the left, directly across from Battersea Court, my residence hall. Nearby was Surrey Court, another residence hall, followed by the main lecture theatre building, where large classes were held.

Walking further, you’d pass a vegetarian restaurant—which, looking back, was quite progressive for the time.

Then the road sloped downward, leading to the Students’ Union, home to the elected student reps and the venue for weekend parties and discos. Attached to it was the student pub, with an outdoor seating area where, on warm sunny days, some of us coursemates would lounge between lectures. Opposite this area, across the street, was Stag Hill Court, another residence hall.

Continuing downhill, you’d pass the most expensive en-suite accommodations and the campus medical centre. This was the eastern edge of the campus, where the East Gate stood. Right next to it was Yorkie’s Bridge, a pedestrian bridge that led into town.

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Leaving Scotland (Oct 1994)

After much deliberation, I finally decided that Guildford was where I wanted to be. I don’t remember the exact sequence of our departures—those of us bound for England—but I think Shah (to Manchester) and Ella (to Warwick) left a few days earlier, while Fudin and I departed on the same day, or so I believe. One thing I do remember with certainty is that Shaikh came along to Glasgow Central Station—there’s a picture to prove it—perhaps along with the rest of the boys.

As for the date, I’d guess it was 2nd October 1994 (Sunday). My reasoning? My first lectures were on Tuesday, 4th October, and I arrived in London the night before the Monday registration (3rd October). At least, that’s how I piece it together now—though I could be mistaken.

NOSTALGIA UK

Summer ... the biggest eye opener (1994)

Scotland introduced me to three of the four seasons for the first time.

We arrived in Glasgow during the bone-chilling cold of early January. As I looked out from the coach window on the ride from Glasgow Airport to Langside College, everything seemed cloaked in grey, as if the sun had never dared to shine. Some days were so cold that speaking became a challenge; words containing "s" were almost impossible to pronounce as my lips would turn numb and uncooperative. I’ve previously shared how dry my skin became, particularly around the crotch and inner thigh areas, resulting in painful and itchy rashes that only made the experience harsher.

Spring didn’t stand out much to me at first; it felt barely warmer than winter, making it difficult to distinguish the two seasons. However, the sight of plants and flowers returning to life added a touch of color and vibrancy, as if nature itself was making an effort to brighten up the grey landscape.

I had high hopes for summer, eagerly anticipating relief from the constant rashes and dry skin. I soon discovered, however, that bright, sunny days in the UK were more the exception than the rule. Still, we were lucky enough to experience a handful of gloriously warm days. I remember one such day clearly: Fudin and I decided to go for a jog. The temperature was perfect, the sun lingered high in the sky for hours, and it felt as if the entire city of Glasgow had poured into the parks, basking in the rare sunshine. People looked joyous and carefree, soaking up every moment. I was especially taken aback by the sudden shift in wardrobes, particularly among the women; the clothes were doing more showing of everything than covering anything, a stark contrast to the usual attire of the earlier months.

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Hall of passing (1994)

Before I continue on my journey to Surrey, I want to take a quick detour to document a couple of small but cherished memories I almost overlooked.

One such memory is of the hall in Shaikh's shared flat. It wasn't that big but it was a cozy, inviting space where I often found myself hanging out whenever the boys and I dropped by. The hall was modestly furnished, with a couple of well-worn sofas and a tea table that always seemed to carry the latest edition of the UMNO Club Newsletter (though it was more like a magazine) —a periodical publication that Shaikh edited with great dedication.

The newsletter was an intriguing read, filled with articles and news that resonated with Malaysian students in Glasgow. Back then, the UMNO Club was a significant presence among Malaysian students in the UK, especially within the Malay group. Its presence was centered in major cities with large student populations, acting as hubs for student welfare and activities. At the time, I didn’t see it as a political movement; to me, it was simply a club focused on fostering a sense of community and addressing students' needs. Admittedly, my understanding of politics was quite limited then.

I enjoyed flipping through the publication, marveling at Shaikh’s talent for writing and his unwavering commitment to his role. If memory serves me right, I even contributed some content—likely something creative or artsy. It felt good to be part of it.