Remembering Jim

I met Jim in my first year of university.
Jim's real name was Frank, but he didn't like that.
Jim turned up half way through living in halls. The kitchen was a mess, the toilet doors had been stolen and we had mixed showers.
A room became free and Jim moved in.
He didn't have many belongings.
In fact, he pretty much turned up with a hiking bag full of clothes and that was it.
Bearded, it was rare that you saw him out of his wax jacket, shorts and woolly hat combo.
Once he'd settled in, he started leaving his door propped open more and more.
Tumbling in one day with a flurry of shopping from Morrisons, I saw inside his room.
Three things caught my eye: a tower of Jaffa Cake boxes that almost met the ceiling; his bedding all over the floor; and a shopping trolley which had been parked at an angle at the end of his room.
"Y'right Jim?" I said.
"Oh," he said. "Hi."
I carried on towards the kitchen to put my stuff away and passed another one of my housemates. This time, Geoff.
Geoff liked buses. He had pictures of lots of different types of buses all over his wall and at the weekends, he went out and rode buses around the countryside. He was studying French and was planning on becoming a bus driver in France. I respected Geoff. He had time for other people and did things like make roast dinner ready meals and go on Countdown.
Jim came through.
"I like your Jaffa Cake tower," I said.
"Oh thanks," said Jim. "Yeah, I like Jaffa Cakes."
"I can see," I said.
"What's with the shopping trolley?"
"Oh, I used that to move but now I find really useful for putting stuff in," he said.
I nodded.
"How come you're sleeping on the floor?" I said.
"I just find it much more comfortable," he said.
Thinking to my own room, he wasn't wrong. The beds in halls were like shelves. Thin, wooden slabs with a layer of foam on top. I had spent the first half of the year repeatedly whacking my head into the wall over the course of the night.
"See ya later," said Jim while grabbing an apple.
That night, I took to my perpendicular room and scattered my bedding all over the floor. A crumpled bed sheet, single duvet and a couple of pillows thrown around at the top for good measure.
This might not seem like a big thing to many, but to someone whose life revolves around being tidy, this was a big step.
Light off, I patted my way around the floor and shuffled down into the covers.
It felt strange at first, but I soon relaxed and nodded off.
From that day on, I never spent another night on the shelf.
Taking to my room, like Jim, with an approach that was a little more unconventional.
I slept much better and I didn't once bang my head on anything during the night.
I started to look to him as one of life's beacons.
After bonding in the student union bar, we lived together in our second year.
He still slept on the floor.