Ah, OP Tower. The symbol of my miserable first year of uni, which I spent on the 18th floor of this hideous manmade monolith. Rising out of Owen's Park like Sauron's tower, it is a monument to the general hideosity that is OP.
Now, I'm gonna disagree with Rob a bit here, and say that I quite liked my bedroom. The fitted wardobe unit was mahoosive, the desk was also sizeable and there was a sink in the corner of my room, which is always useful when one doesn't want to share toothbrushing facilities. The bed, most people would have thought hard, but I like a firm mattress so that was OK. The window was big enough to almost smoke out of, and as I mentioned in a previous review, afforded me a great view of the city. At the time, it was also the only residence in Owen's Park to have internet in every room. This was a revelation to me; super fast internet and the chance to nick loads of music off people's shared iTunes! Wowser! So, yeah, I liked my room, apart from the fact that every now and then (at 4am usually), the water pipes above my room would clank and bang and I would leap out of bed, ready to confront the loud murderer who I was sure was in my wardrobe. I do have to agree with Rob, though, on the kitchens. The kitchens were shoddy and ill-equipped. Yes, we were being 'catered' for (more on that in a bit) but not at weekends. At weekends we had to fend for ourselves, which is hard to do with an undersized oven and two malfunctioning hob rings. We had a Breville, brought by Christian Flatmate, but it was stolen when someone on our floor forgot to lock the door. So were most of my plates and a good knife. The rascals.
So, yes, the food. The food, basically, was the worst slop I have ever tasted. I shan't dwell on it too long as it upsets me to do so, but I will tell you the facts. The OP catering manifesto seems to be "fill them up on starches, and overcook everything til nutrition is a distant memory." As a result, you would often find yourself being offered rice, chips and naan with lasagne, which was overcooked and glutinous. The only saving grace was the salad bar, which provided enough nutrition to prevent me from getting scurvy. A tip to any students coming to Manchester; do not apply for OP. You might well be shoved there (I was, despite applying solely for on-campus self-catering halls...) but fight the power, get yopurself into, wel, ANY other halls.
Now, we've covered the rooms and the food, but the real problem with OP, especially the tower, is the people. You know those jock boys and bitchy girls who made your life hell at school? You know, everyone hated them, they even hated each other... Well, they're all at OP. The boys are there playing football in the courtyard and trying to feel you up at the bar, and the girls are there wandering round in PJs and Uggs and giving you filthy looks for, well, nothing at all. Somehow the Uni seems to have condensed all the complete tossers, and housed them in the tower. Which kind of explains why, for the small amount of time I actually spent *at* the tower, I locked myself in my room and smoked, listening to Deathcab and cursing my lucky Whitworth Park dweling friends.
Oh, and yes, 18 floors is high. It's especially high when some douche decides to set off the fire alarm three times a night, every night, for a whole year. But, you know, you could avoid walking down the steps by simply staying in your room, though that was against the rules...but shhh. The worst, and totally unavoidable, thing about being on the top floor is that every drunk tit under the sun wanted to come up to our floor to "see what the view is like", cue me having to physically push total strangers out of my room and call security. Not fun.
The rooms are not in 'flats' but in corridors of 6 rooms, which are totally un-secured. That is, if someone is inside the building, there is only one lockable door between them and you, at any time. That's not exactly fantastic, and made me feel hugely unsafe. When we complained to security we were told that having locks on the corridors would be a health and safety issue. Oh, right, and the time that aggressive tramp forced his way into my friend's room wasn't a health and safety issue? Jeez, Louise.
I have nothing nice to say about OP, really. I spent miserable days here, and couldn't wait to get away. read more