Dreaded results day. The bane of every 18 year old in the country. Unless you stopped at 16. In which case, enjoy living on the taxpayer's money.
Does that sound elitist? Damn fucking right it does.
The night before, everybody stayed up, unable to sleep due to anxiety. Chatting away on Facebook and the like, waiting until 8am when they could constantly refresh UCAS Track and find out if they got into university. I just lied on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Reading. I am so cool and above the system, it astounds generations.
Got up at 6am and tried to get my mind off the day with some Sky TV. It was all bullshit where kids opened their results and got what they wanted. In some cases, very elderly people were getting their results and then going to university. What?! Places are scarce as it is without octogenarians applying to UCL too. If you haven't gone to university by 35, fuck off and leave it to the people without liver spots and Alzheimer's. Greedy.
I was refreshing from 9-11 and eventually got an acceptance from Aberdeen...wait. That's my insurance. FUCK.
Suddenly, I was in a nervous sweat about how badly I had messed up my exams and how many lashes of the whip my parents were going to give me. All calm had taken a shuttle bus to Malaga and I was left like a wreck. I decided to go as early as I could to the tube station, thinking a nice walk would get my mind off the life changing results. It didn't. I waited calmly at the tube station for my friend to arrive, whose UCAS app was not working. Bricks will be shat.
Arrived to a school that had looked like it staged the Holocaust. Yeah, I went there. Someone was handing leaflets to a local university that said "NO UCAS POINTS REQUIRED!" Cheeky git. Anyway, we walked in and there were people frantically looking through the Independent and on the phone. Clearing has begun. I got my results and instructed to fill in a form telling the school where I was going. Aberdeen. This got me a crap Scottish accent, frankly racist, in a light attempt to make things less futile. Not that they were futile. I missed out on two marks. I can live with that, I can now sleep at night.
A trick to figuring out if people have to go through Clearing is that they tend to not stay for long, rushing out of their room with the paper to the nearest payphone. I feel for them, Clearing is a massive lottery that could end up with people making desperate moves just so they can go to university. It's a shit situation to be in and they shouldn't have to go through that. However, I am not nearly versed enough in the system to suggest any possible changes. I called my firm to ask/beg for a place and they told me that they were already 20 places overbooked. Wow. Maybe some universities need to get a grip.
This means that there will be a "Uniblog", hopefully starting on the 18th of September, writing about the 18th of September. It's been a long time since I wrote about something on that exact day.
This all depends if I meet the Pope or not. That'll be the last excerpt of Holiblog.
In the business, we call that a professional tease or a cliffhanger.
See you next time if something actually happens in this holiday. And I'll write about France too.
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