Here is the latest in our series of blogs by Glasgow students.

Phoebe Inglis-Holmes is an honours year multimedia journalism student, aspiring radio presenter, music festival obsessive and green tea connoisseur.

It's no secret that we bloody students love to party. You see it everywhere; free entry with a student card on a Thursday, cheap deals on booze and discounted cloakroom. Nightclubs tease us by somehow managing to nab our phone numbers in fresher's week and clasping them tightly forever more, sending us their latest offers and making going out a temptation even harder to resist than the two-for-Tuesdays pizza texts that I dribble over each week. But with just a month to go until my dreaded dissertation deadline, I've realised that a full weekend slobbing on the couch watching Disney films post-Friday night extravagance simply cannot be; I need to concentrate. Boo. So I've banned myself from venturing out to the dingy, dark basements with the thudding bass that calls my name for the entire month of March, thinking I would feel refreshed and rejuvenated. Wrong. The first weekend I almost broke. I planned carefully; I saved an album I'd been dying to listen to all week for Friday night listening, and settled down on the sofa with a sophisticated glass of red and my book. Within minutes my phone buzzed; messages from friends asking where I, queen of the social butterflies, was fluttering to this evening. When I informed them of my good *cough* boring intentions, they all laughed; as did my lovely boyfriend, who found it impossible to believe that for a whole month we wouldn't be putting on our most beat up shoes and beating them up further with our usual flailing dance moves. Our relationship is founded on dancing; the night we met we boogied away until 2am on a mixture of excitement and a cheap calorific orange concoction, and since then it's become a Friday ritual to do the same. And I realised if I didn't go out for the whole month, my connection with both friends and boyfriend might start to slip. Sure, people say you should have a deeper relationship with your friends than them being just people that you go out to the dances with. And it's not like that's the only time I see them - most afternoons we all gather in my garden munching decadent baked goods and drinking too much coffee. But scientists have proved that dancing with someone brings you emotionally closer together. So it's no surprise that my urban family, i.e. my nearest and dearest, are those who I can whinge all my worldly woes to, before dancing said woes away all night in a dirty club accidentally hurling drinks over one another. I don't feel like I know someone until I've stomped to my favourite song with them, held them back from harassing the DJ, and batted them in the face with a wild flying elbow as I show off my, er, sexiest moves. So before you go thinking that we students are wasting our lives away at the disco, consider that we're really cementing our relationships by sweating and shaking out our stress, together