A Very Long Story About My Life. And Snow.

Being back at Uni means that the 6-a-Side football season has restarted, and so I decided to treat myself to some new boots. Figured that getting some astroturfs may help my game, instead of wearing my regular trainers every week. This was a solid plan, except that the new trainers have a have bit on the heel, which rubs against my foot, and is quite painful. Nonetheless, I feel I put in a solid performance this week Anyway, they will hopefully soften with time.

So, after football, I was walking back and it was freezing. There was a chill wind. Did I mention it is cold? Well, we are currently in the middle of a massive snow-storm right across the UK, the biggest for a decade. The eastern side has been worst hit, My brother has gotten days off school, which never happened for me, with the huge amounts of snow in London. We have not had as much here, but still a considerable amount. Enough for snowball fights and for the ground to be slippy enough for everyone to fall about the place all the time. But when it is not snowing, it is freezing. Really, very, very cold. So, to shelter from the cold I stopped off in the £1 shop on the way back from football, and they had big multi-packs of Doritos crisps, which I purchased, and ate with some dip I had in the fridge. Now, I need to mention at this stage that I had an essay to write, due the next day, which I had not yet properly started. Writing this took most of my attention, and without noticing I had eaten about a half-dozen packs of crisps.

Having made some headway with my essay, and figuring that a good night’s sleep would be more helpful than staying up all night, I went to bed. Naturally, all the crisps I had eaten came back to bite me, and I woke up in the middle of the night with an incredible headache. You remember how parents used to say that if you eat too many sweets you will get sick? Turns out that was not a lie, not evil paternal propaganda, but can actually happen! I was shocked! In headache form! As writhing in agony while attempting to get some sleep was not working for me, I got up and put on my laptop, took a paracetamol, and settled down to watch Firefly in bed. If there is one thing to cure me, it is watching an episode of Firefly while in bed. This worked, for Firefly is the greatest TV show ever, and I was able to get comfortable and go back to sleep.

Waking up early, (for a history student,) I got back to my essay, which was due in at 4pm. Naturally, it was about 3pm when I had finished writing. So I trudged up through the slush on the ground to use one of the printers on campus, and then hand in my essay. When there I met Phil, who was doing the same thing, and having given in our essays we decided to celebrate the end of work by going to get a pizza from one of the restaurants on campus. This pizza was incredible. Serving as a better anecdote however would be the hot chocolates we bought for the walk back. I took a rather large gulp from my beverage, and discovered it to be incredibly hot, burning my tongue. Anyway, after splitting with Phil, I continued back to Northernhay, taking the long route through the shops. Bought some milk, before arriving back in my room to get changed.

See, the History Society was having a pub crawl before heading to a club as a celebration of the end of exams and essays. The theme was “Nations”, which meant many people were wearing football shirts. I had been planning to go as Spain, but I failed in my bids to get a Spanish shirt off Ebay, so I fell back on wearing my England one instead. Heading down to the Lemmy, the rain had stopped, and getting there I hung out and chatted to some fellow history peeps. It was at this stage I met Jason, who may be a guy who’s found a place for next year, one whom I may be renting a house with next year. As you can tell, it is still a pretty vague plan. Anyway, it was at this stage that the “snow” really started to pelt down. I put that in quotation marks, as it was not so much snow as huge lumps of freezing cold rain. Anyway, at this point the idea of a pub crawl seemed less attractive to everyone and so we ended up going a few hundred yards to the campus pub, where drinks where dunk while playing table football. I was involved in an incredibly tense match, after slipping 5-1 down I managed to get things back to 8-8, before succumbing to a 10-8 defeat. This was, as the most fitting adjective would describe it, fun. So, by this stage the snow did not look like subsiding, and so we made a move to go through it to another pub, this one nearer to our final destination, a club, Arena.

Walking down with Stu and Jason, and a whole mess of other people from history, in the snow, was great fun. Getting to this next pub, I played a game on the pool table, had some more drinks, and watched a bit of the Spanish football on the TV. After this it was on to Arena, where we met up with some more people, before dancing the night away. The DJ was pretty good, he played quite a bit of older songs from the mid-90s, which were fun; a bit of Blink 182 and Sum 41 always goes down a treat as everyone knows the words.

With the club closing soon, we tried to beat the rush and head to get our coats before everyone else, but the queue was still huge. Finally escaping to the outdoors, we found the snow had eased off a bit. We also found that we were hungry. Some of the weaker people escaped off in a taxi, but Joe Davis, Stu, Jason, and I followed Phil off in search of his favourite late night burger stand. I say favourite, as he was not interested in the nearest burger stand, that would be too simple. I have to say, in the end he was quite right, the Burger was brilliant. A quarter-pounder with cheese, bacon and salad. Awesome! Carried on walking back with the guys in the deserted road, since the pavements were treacherous with the semi-frozen sludge, got to the roundabout before turning off to head back towards home. Wrapped my scarf around my chin and nose to try and stay warm, ‘cos the temperature had suddenly dropped even colder. Naturally, a giant lorry passed through a enormous half-snow half-water puddle as I walked by, and I got splashed. Soaked, in actual fact. The rain-snow hybrid was coming down heavier from the sky now, and by the time I got into Northernhay I was completely drenched, but actually in quite a good mood having had a great night out. And I was slightly too drunk to care if I was cold and wet.

So, I warmed up by taking a hot shower, before throwing an episode of Arrested Development up on my laptop, putting on my headphones and watching from in bed. And that is the story of my student life during the Great Snow of ’09.

Results Day

I was scared. I think that is a safe, possibly even understated, summary.

I had only one choice, there was only one university I liked, that I had visited, that offered the course I wanted. Exeter University wanted me to get an A in History, which would be hard for I had only gotten a B last year, an A in English, which was safe due to my good previous results, and therefore insecure due to overconfidence, and an A doing intensive politics, two years in one, which no-one has ever got at Richmond College.

My options were limited. If I, realistically, failed top get 3As, I could go through the mayhem of clearing, getting a course I did not really want at a Uni I did know, take a gap year where I stay at home and get a boring job, or go to Portsmouth Uni, a fine, but not top, University. I could see all these failed lives stretching out from this one moment. All my fault, I sat the exams, I day-dreamt in class, I did less work that I could have.

Therefore, scared. Unable to sleep terrified, could also be applicable. Unable to move, due to dread, is not much of a stretch. Like I am about to jump out of a plane, and remember I have knitted my own parachute. Out of wet spaghetti. Hopefully by now you can grasp my fear.

So I met up with some friends early in the morning, and we sat on the bus. This bit was tense. It seems that the idea they have for results day is that you queue a lot. You queue to get into the building, then queue to get your name, then queue to get your results. This means that when you finally get your results you are so shocked at the queuing to have ended, it takes a moment for you to process that you are now free to wander, in a queue-less environment.

So, my results. I got an A in English. This I was confident in, for I got 90/90 in my Hamlet exam last year, and 117/120 in my Poetry & Prose in January, but as I said before, confidence can mean fail. Luckily, I got my first A.

History. I messed up my exam on the Russian revolution last year, so I needed some strong results this year to build me up. I got my A. Two for Two! Making me happier, in advanced extension history, I got myself a Merit, which I am amazingly pleased with, for that was a hard exam.

But now for the tense bit. Intensive politics, studying both my first and second year at once, which no student has ever got an A before. well, now one has. I got my third A. My results for the first half were brilliant.

So, Three As. I am off to Exeter, and I am feeling great. Things are going well all around. Michael and Jon also have great results, getting into their Universities, Jon to Cambridge. So did most of the other people I met, Ross is in to Brunel. To make things even better, we celebrated with one last Creamichoc from the vending machines, and Jon got double change! Free Creamichoc!

So I came home, all buzzin'. Phoned family members, who all were mighty pleased. Then, off to James' house for a barbeque. Saw people I had not seen in ages, ate burgers, and got drunk. played drunk football, and came home. This was one of the best days ever.

In one emotion - relief. I get to go to Exeter. Wack-O!

Visiting Stamford Bridge

Last Sunday I was one of the 39,994 people who paid a visit to Stamford Bridge to watch Chelsea play Middlesbrough, in a Premier League game. It was the first time I have ever visited a Premier League match, and the first time in years I have been to a game. It was amazing.

I am not a Chelsea fan, but I felt like one. When Carvalho nods in the first goal, and everyone around me went wild, I felt a magnificent tingly sensation that I have never felt before. It was so liberating, to be able to look wherever I wanted to, to see what I could see, without replays, living the game in the moment. It was so humanising, to be able to see these players in real life, to watch how they play.

The seats we had were truly incredible. I don’t not really have a yard-stick to judge them by, but I understand that being in the front row of the third tier, almost level with the centre circle, is amazing.

I have never felt like this before. Never before have I been able to watch what the keepers do when no-one else is around, what the captain really does, to freely see how players run off the ball. The most interesting moment was watching an injury in the first half. I never knew that physio's ran so fast! They really sprint!

It was an exhilarating experience, and I now have a new goal in life: to go and see England play a proper competitive international at Wembley, and to go see Manchester United play at Old Trafford.