The life – this is it.

Happy days are here again.

Having worked (not quite solidly) for the last twelve years I decided that I wasn’t poor enough. So I took the brave and some might say, stupid step in becoming a student. That’s right!

I mooch off the tax paying public, I eat instant noodles, I can’t afford to buy meat so have become a forced hippy and eat dried soya mince. I don’t smell, though. I would just like to quash that nasty rumour. I believe it can only officially be applied to mathematicians and scientists – they wear a lot of polyester.

So I started my BA in September 2009, studying English (don’t let my horrendous grammar fool you) and Politics. Seconds into my first Politics lecture, I realised that it was absolute shite and promptly removed that from my programme. From that moment on I was a single honours undergrad, surrounded by teeny 18 year olds. The girls had hair that would resembled mine if I’d been out on the lash, had collapsed into a rabid dog’s pen and been used as its chew toy. The boys were like Prince Harry, with posher accents. I knew it would be difficult, when I arrived at enrolment with brushed hair, boot-cut jeans and a decidedly inoffessive t-shirt. “Fuck it!” thought I. Rise above it all. And I have.

Suffice it to say, I’m friendless.

Actually, that’s a lie. I have a great group of friends who are forever asking me to go out and get smashed – let’s get the ol’ girl trollied! I did it once, drunk more than the rest of them put together (after all, I’m older – I can handle my drink), and woke up three days later with a headache of the devil’s devising. I’d also ‘apparently’ shouted across a car park to a smooching pair for the girl to “PUT YOUR CLUNGE AWAY!!” Not the sort of behaviour expected in Oxford, Oxfordshire, England. Hey ho… since then, I’ve kept my head down, got on with my work and slowly turned into a grumpy, moany, cynical twenty-something (going on sixty-something).

The man front is depressingly lacking. But I cheer myself by saying, “I’m dedicated to my career. I want to do well and avoid distractions. I’m not going to fall into the misogynistic trap of sprogging-up and being restricted in my career potential.” And I will stand by this bollocks until a fella shows some interest.

Tune in next time when I’ll be discussing Chris Evans, working at Boots, The OUP and the potential for lecturer/ student relations.


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