SHE may be one of the most influential and privileged people in the country. But, as she blinked back the tears on Tuesday, Cherie Blair was in the grip of a private dilemma which affects all parents.

"My immediate instinct," said an emotional Mrs Blair as she defended buying a pair of flats in Bristol, "was to protect my son in his first term at university, living away from home."

The mother of a student going through university in 2002, Cherie will have been well aware what Euan really needed protecting against.

Granted, privacy was an important concern for the Blairs. The memory of Euan drunk in central London three years ago will have made both Tony and Cherie extra cautious about media intrusion when Euan is away from his Downing Street minders.

But there's another, bigger problem which faces not only Euan but also his new set of friends: where on earth are they going to live next year? It's a dilemma which brings to mind a campus somewhat closer to home.

If Euan Blair had chosen to read history (instead of ancient history), he may well have gone to the top-rated department at the University of York.

And once there he'd have found himself hunting for a room at an overcrowded institution.

This year the York accommodation office was caught unprepared by "higher admissions than we were anticipating," according to accommodation chief David Maughan.

Desperate staff had to resort to putting some first-years into shared rooms, and housed one unlucky group of people above a supermarket.

First year philosophy student Dave Ellis was one of those tucked away above Jackson's in Fulford Road.

He is disturbed every 15 minutes by a noisy delivery bell, and has to climb across a roof via the building's fire exit every time he wants to reach his room.

And on the university's main Heslington site, things are just as bad.

Second year Will Barnes lives in shabby Goodricke College, notorious for being the most undesirable residence on campus. In Monopoly terms, it's the Old Kent Road.

Every day after lectures he returns home to his dingy building, with its breeze-block walls, curious smells and pitiful facilities.

"Fourteen of us share two electric cookers and two fridges," he complains. "The walls are so thin you can hear most things that go on in the next room.

"Last year there was a hole in my roof. I had to put a bucket underneath to collect the rainwater. In the end I got £60 compensation."

For a while now, a story has been doing the rounds that the university is unable to decorate some campus rooms because - wait for it - the extra coat of paint would shrink their size and make them illegally small.

Even this Goodricke room doesn't exactly come cheap: he's paying £50.47 a week for the privilege of living there.

And Will could have found himself next door to Euan. Until last year, everyone at York paid the same for their rooms wherever they were in a lucky-dip system.

Since then, against fierce student opposition, the university has introduced differential rates. Euan, with a mum on around £400,000 a year, may well have found himself in the university's more luxurious accommodation, at the princely sum of £63.28 a week.

But Student Union president Tom Connor claims these modern en-suite blocks are a rip-off.

"They're not exactly the Ritz. They were cheaply built three or four years ago, but are starting to look nearer ten or 20 years old."

If Bristol is anything like York, it's no wonder Cherie was worried. So, according to Connor, her decision to buy a flat for her son is not as unusual as you'd think. In the last couple of years an increasingly large number of parents have "done a Cherie" and invested in property in York.

They'll then charge their kids' friends rent and, when they leave university, either sell the property on or keep it as a holiday home.

"When I first came to York," says Tom Connor, "no one did it, but now buying property is becoming more and more common. The cost of living in York has rocketed in the last few years, so it's actually a good way of getting round the system and saving money."

Amid crippling student debts, it's a safe bet that Euan's new friends can't wait to move in with him: according to the estate agents' blurb, his new "penthouse" offers "sensational docklands views" and "sleek contemporary exteriors."

Over at York University, it looks like more of the city is set to be bought up by parents who, like Cherie, are anxious to protect their children away from home. They won't benefit from next-door neighbour Gordon Brown's economic advice - nor price negotiations from a convicted conman.

Updated: 11:06 Thursday, December 12, 2002