By Coventry University student, Emilia

My favourite memory from living in halls happened in the kitchen, on a night when none of us were planning to make friends.

It was early in the academic year, a cold autumn evening when the sky got dark far too early, and everyone seemed to be running on low energy after a full day of inductions. One by one, we drifted into the kitchen – some cooking, some pretending to cook, others just looking for company. At that point, we were still strangers sharing cupboards and fridge shelves, nodding politely and keeping conversations short.

Then, without really noticing, everything changed.

Someone put music on quietly. A few of us sat on the counters, others leaned against the cupboards, and snacks started getting passed around. The rain outside hit the windows, the kettle kept boiling, and the conversation slowly became more honest. We talked about where we were from, why we chose our courses, and how strange it felt being away from home for the first time.

I remember the exact moment it clicked – someone admitted they were finding it harder than they expected. Instead of the mood dropping, everyone opened. The kitchen filled with laughter, reassurance, and that comforting realisation that none of us had it all figured out.

That night turned the kitchen into more than just a place to cook. It became a space where we checked in on each other, revised together during exam season, and ended long days with conversations that made everything feel lighter.

Looking back, that simple evening is the reason halls stopped feeling temporary and started feeling like home.