Considering that I generally haven’t been conscious before 10am every day for the last monthandabit, being at college by 9:25 the morning was always going to be a bit of an ask. However, E and I jumped out of the car at a just after half past nine, and he sprinted off to his interview, waving his personal statement over his head.
Well, not quite. But it was a nice image.
College hasn’t changed much since we’ve been away, bar the conservatory which has sprung up out of nowhere next to the café. Otherwise, the hallways still smell slightly of coffee, the old A2 art coursework still covers the walls, and there is still a gaggle of people sitting on the tables in the library ready for a gossip. We chatted, I read some more Jane Eyre (parallels with Tess of the d’Urbervilles? I think so. Strong-willed, female protagonist? Check. Repression of women because of their gender and social class? Check. Really annoying, über religious subcharacter? Check.), and gently mocked the new Year 12s, in for Intake Day, until it was time for my own interview.
‘Interview’ is far too strong a word. Mrs I “Never mind”ed my not-so-great AS results, claimed I “never stood a chance anyway, straight A kids never do”, and showed me pictures of her new baby son.
My EPQ supervisor, our Deputy Director, couldn’t see me until midday, so I made use of my time by joining the back of the Year 12 line to get my photo taken. Joining my sixth form late meant that lots of the bureaucratic stuff never got done. Hopefully I’ll actually be able to get a gym card now…
E and I wandered down to Morrison’s. He was sacked from his previous job at a well-known chain food outlet yesterday, not naming any names SUBWAY, for nothing more than leaving the air con on overnight. The boss had a verging-on-obsessive dislike for him anyway, the pay was shit, and the work was ridiculous, so he wasn’t too bummed about it. Our trip to Morrison’s was to hand in an application form, but we weren’t holding out much hope. Low and behold, two hours later and I picked up the phone to hear him announcing they’d interviewed and given him a shelf-stacking job on the spot, for much better money than his previous cockroach-infested hellhole. Happy days. Thank God for capitalism’s transnational supercompanies.
Anyway. I eventually got to talk to my supervisor (I’d moan more about the fact that I’d been in college for three hours by then, rather than the 15 minutes my interview had taken, but she is really a very wonderful person and I like her a lot. Plus, she was busy with Year 12s. And we all know what a pain they are.) I mentioned that my essay was not 1000 words, as it should be, but 9000 and counting. She almost spat out her coffee. On the bright side, there’s no way I can cut it down to size. “So you might as well leave it.” Hurrah for independent learning!
Sonnets tomorrow, photoshoots and reporting come Friday, and then K’s holding one of her immense Summer House Sleepover parties on Saturday night. Here’s to the end of the summer holidays.