So, you’ve been accepted to study in the UK. Congratulations. You’re likely imagining cobblestone streets, posh accents, and intellectually stimulating debates in wood-panelled rooms. You’ve seen the photos of dreamy campuses, cheerful students holding coffee cups, and someone in a scarf reading James Joyce by a lake. Maybe you’ve even told your friends, “I’m off to England. It’s going to be amazing.”
Now here’s the reality, from someone who’s actually done it, survived it, and has the stress-induced under-eye bags to prove it. Especially if you’re landing in Birmingham of all places, there are some things no one tells you before you get here. Consider this your unofficial guide to everything you’ll wish someone had warned you about.
1. The weather isn’t just bad. It’s emotionally corrosive
Yes, you knew it would rain. But you thought it would be whimsical, aesthetic rain. The kind that inspires poetry. Instead, you’re getting slapped in the face by cold sideways mist while waiting for a bus that isn’t coming. The clouds are never not grey. The sun is a rumour. Winter stretches from October to May, and summer is just… slightly warmer rain.
You’ll develop seasonal depression and call it “just being tired.” Pack a SAD lamp, vitamin D, and an existential coping mechanism.
2. Birmingham is not a vibe. It’s a character-building exercise
No one dreams of Birmingham. You end up here. It’s Britain’s second city, and it’s spent most of its budget making sure you know that fact — via road signs and perpetual construction. The canal is brown. The air is damp. The city centre is a maze of scaffolding and pigeons with attitude problems.
Even Google Maps can’t figure out New Street Station. There’s a reason the locals just shrug and say, “Yeah, Birmingham innit.”
3. The visa process is a masterclass in bureaucratic sadism
Ah, yes. The UK visa system. Where dreams come to die in PDF format.
To get here, you’ll have to pay hundreds of pounds to prove you’re not a criminal, not poor, and not a drain on His Majesty’s precious economy. You’ll submit the same document five different ways because the online system can’t decide what format it wants. You’ll visit a biometric centre that feels like airport security, except less efficient.
And just when you’ve finally arrived and unpacked your suitcase, your visa clock starts ticking like a Bond movie bomb. You’ll spend your whole degree with the quiet anxiety of visa expiry hanging over you like a mouldy ceiling tile.
Want to stay after graduation? That’ll be £800 and a whole new application process. Don’t worry — they might get back to you before your visa expires. Maybe. If Mercury isn’t in retrograde.
4. Your flat will be hell. And you’ll pay £700 for it. Not including bills
Student housing in the UK is like gambling in a casino run by landlords who haven’t upgraded anything since 1996. You’ll get a single bed, a flickering lightbulb, a kitchen shared with people who think “cleaning” is a political opinion, and walls thin enough to hear your flatmate’s 3 a.m. Spotify playlist.
The heating won’t work when you need it, but the mould will always be there for you. Like a toxic relationship, but with spores.
And yes — your letting agency will ignore every email you send unless it involves rent.
5. University here means “Good luck, you’re on your own”
Lectures are few and far between. Your professors will vanish mid-term for “research leave.” Assignments are vague riddles with no clear instructions. Feedback is a post-mortem that says things like, “Needs more critical engagement” — and you’ll have to Google what that even means.
See, UK universities pride themselves on “independent learning.” Translation: you will teach yourself 70% of the syllabus via outdated PowerPoint slides and vague assignment briefs.
Lecturers will respond to your desperate emails approximately 9 business days later with an answer so abstract, it could double as modern poetry. Group work? A social experiment in disappointment. You’ll do everything while the others disappear and resurface only to collect the group grade.
Meanwhile, your tuition fees are quietly burning a hole in your family’s bank account. You’re not studying a subject. You’re surviving a system.
6. British food is a bit of an endurance test
They say, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” When in Britain, apparently, that means having beans on toast and pretending that’s normal. The national diet is 40% potatoes, 40% beige food, and 20% alcohol. Seasoning is optional. Texture is discouraged.
You’ll try cooking your own food, but the grocery stores think £3.50 for coriander is acceptable. Your country’s spices are behind a dusty “world food” shelf next to suspicious soy sauce and something labelled “curry powder” in Comic Sans.
7. You will run out of money by week three
Whatever amount you budgeted? Double it. Then double it again. It won’t be enough.
Between rent, transport, overpriced groceries, social life, stationery, and the emergency winter coat you didn’t realise you’d need in September, you’ll be broke by mid-October. You’ll start buying the cheapest toilet paper, pretending the heating doesn’t exist, and counting £1 coins like a Victorian orphan.
And if you’re on a tight budget because of visa limits on working hours, you’ll soon learn that 20 hours a week at minimum wage covers exactly zero percent of your rent.
8. Getting a job is a nightmare wrapped in a Jobcentre Plus email
Yes, your visa allows you to work part-time. That doesn’t mean anyone will hire you.
You’ll apply for dozens of jobs. Most won’t reply. Some will ghost you after the interview. The rest want “UK experience” for a job that involves pushing a mop. And just when you finally land a part-time gig in retail, they’ll schedule you for shifts during your lectures. Your boss will say, “Can’t you skip class?” like that’s a reasonable question.
Also, HMRC will definitely mess up your tax code. That’s not a joke. That’s a promise.
9. Public transport here is a suggestion, not a system
Buses in Birmingham operate on vibes. The schedule is more of an aspiration. You’ll leave early, stand in the cold for 20 minutes, and watch three buses go by — all not yours. Or the driver will wave and drive off anyway. Or you’ll get on and realise it’s going the wrong direction and you’re now in Dudley. Nobody wants that.
Want to visit London for the weekend? That’ll be £70 and your dignity. Enjoy your 6 a.m. train surrounded by children on a school trip and a man loudly eating egg mayo.
10. Your social life will be one endless awkward pub meetup
British social life is built on alcohol. If you don’t drink, you’ll spend a lot of nights awkwardly sipping lemonade in noisy pubs that smell like old carpet and regret. You’ll join societies thinking they’re about shared interests, only to find they’re just excuses to get drunk on a Wednesday.
Everyone’s either blackout drunk, too shy to talk, or too polite to say they don’t want to be there. You’ll make one friend, and cling to them like a life raft until they drop out or transfer.
11. British people are polite, but some aren’t always friendly
You’ll get a lot of “How are you?” but no one actually wants to know. You’ll hear “We should meet up soon” but never will. Making friends with locals is like trying to connect your phone to public Wi-Fi — technically possible, but only if the signal is perfect and you already know the password.
Your actual friends will be other international students, trauma-bonded over visa panic and collective confusion during lectures. You’ll start cooking together, crying together, and splitting Ubers home together when the last bus ghosts you again.
12. You’ll miss home – even the bits you thought you hated
It hits when you least expect it. You’ll be sitting in a seminar where no one knows your country exists, eating a cold sandwich, and suddenly feel a deep, aching desire for the sound of your native language. Or your mum’s cooking. Or a bus system that costs less than your entire net worth.
Homesickness isn’t cute. It’s ugly, random, and often tied to the weirdest things. Like the smell of a certain spice. Or the sound of water boiling in a pot. You’ll miss being understood.
13. The NHS is “free” if you don’t mind waiting forever
Yes, the NHS is free. You paid £470 a year on your visa for it. Theoretically, this gives you access to healthcare. In practice, it gives you access to a website that tells you to drink fluids and take paracetamol.
Need a GP appointment? See you in three weeks. Dental emergency? Better be a fan of soft foods. Mental health issues? The waiting list is longer than your degree. You’ll start diagnosing yourself with Google and pretending you’re fine because, frankly, there’s no time to die.
Although you may have read this article and – I imagine – started to panic, please remember this article is written in jest. Studying in the UK is a unique time that does bring lots of opportunities, and I hope you enjoy every minute of it – even if that’s eating bad British food in rainy weather while waiting for a bus that will never arrive!