I can not believe it has been ten years since I moved to Scotland – where the time has gone I just do not know. I remember the moment that led to that decision, almost, as clearly as if it were yesterday. I’d just got my A-Level results for the second time (having been forced to re-sit them owing to a year of getting drunk and messing about with my friends at School).
The night before getting those second set of results I had been up all night partying and drinking (yes, an all too common theme of my adult life!) It had been a wild night, in which we had ended up climbing on to the roof of my house (there was a nice flat spot), the police were called, my mother was forced to turn up at 3am following phone calls from an angry Grandfather (he lived 3 doors down) and we were dragged into order. However, once everything had calmed down we were still pulsing with the excitement of our pending results and the desire for more booze. We went to the farm fields at the back of my house to continue drinking and to contemplate our futures, oh and of course play truth or dare, which resulted in a rather bizarre naked star jumping incident!
So on the morning of getting my results I had had no sleep and was rather hungover, only a fried breakfast in a dodgy greasy spoon had kept me from passing out. This was the physical state that I was in when having to consider my academic future. It had also been a very hard year for me, in which I had been seriously ill in hospital with a bout of glandular fever, as well as at the same time bearing witness to the rather messy separation of my parents, so it was also with little emotional clarity or sense of control that I approached this all important decision of where I was going to spend the next period of my life. I was tired physically, emotionally exhausted but somewhat relieved to be in a position to be going to University and feeling all of this, I knew I wanted to go away.
Following the momentary euphoria of getting those results I found myself sat in the corner of the sixth form common room next to the bookcase, which kept all the University prospectuses. Starting to really feel the bite of my hangover, I picked up, at random, the nearest prospectus and started leafing through it. I remember the pages popping open at the centre where in the middle of a two page spread there was a picture of the most beautiful castle, bathed in the rays of a setting sun. I pondered on the image for a while and just thought how amazing it was and being something of a romantic idealist in those days I instantly fell in love. Feeling what alcoholics might describe as “a moment of clarity” I turned to the contact pages and called the applications number.
I had been forced to go through clearing, as every University that I had applied to rejected me on the basis that I was repeating my exams and that they did not believe me when I said I could achieve the results they were asking for (incidentally, I surpassed the required points score for all the courses I had been rejected for, so if Leicester and Hull Universities are reading this – Get it right up yer!). Clearing was the way and clutching the only prospectus I had looked at that morning it led me to Stirling University and to Scotland. Having lived here for ten years and with the benefit of hindsight I can honestly say that it was the best decision I have ever made. I am not sure I believe in fate, I certainly don’t believe in god (or any of his associates), but that is the only point in my life where I feel as though there may have been some kind of ‘divine’ intervention. That and the time when Stephen nearly killed me throwing rocks into an air conditioning system, but that is a whole other story!
The night before getting those second set of results I had been up all night partying and drinking (yes, an all too common theme of my adult life!) It had been a wild night, in which we had ended up climbing on to the roof of my house (there was a nice flat spot), the police were called, my mother was forced to turn up at 3am following phone calls from an angry Grandfather (he lived 3 doors down) and we were dragged into order. However, once everything had calmed down we were still pulsing with the excitement of our pending results and the desire for more booze. We went to the farm fields at the back of my house to continue drinking and to contemplate our futures, oh and of course play truth or dare, which resulted in a rather bizarre naked star jumping incident!
So on the morning of getting my results I had had no sleep and was rather hungover, only a fried breakfast in a dodgy greasy spoon had kept me from passing out. This was the physical state that I was in when having to consider my academic future. It had also been a very hard year for me, in which I had been seriously ill in hospital with a bout of glandular fever, as well as at the same time bearing witness to the rather messy separation of my parents, so it was also with little emotional clarity or sense of control that I approached this all important decision of where I was going to spend the next period of my life. I was tired physically, emotionally exhausted but somewhat relieved to be in a position to be going to University and feeling all of this, I knew I wanted to go away.
Following the momentary euphoria of getting those results I found myself sat in the corner of the sixth form common room next to the bookcase, which kept all the University prospectuses. Starting to really feel the bite of my hangover, I picked up, at random, the nearest prospectus and started leafing through it. I remember the pages popping open at the centre where in the middle of a two page spread there was a picture of the most beautiful castle, bathed in the rays of a setting sun. I pondered on the image for a while and just thought how amazing it was and being something of a romantic idealist in those days I instantly fell in love. Feeling what alcoholics might describe as “a moment of clarity” I turned to the contact pages and called the applications number.
I had been forced to go through clearing, as every University that I had applied to rejected me on the basis that I was repeating my exams and that they did not believe me when I said I could achieve the results they were asking for (incidentally, I surpassed the required points score for all the courses I had been rejected for, so if Leicester and Hull Universities are reading this – Get it right up yer!). Clearing was the way and clutching the only prospectus I had looked at that morning it led me to Stirling University and to Scotland. Having lived here for ten years and with the benefit of hindsight I can honestly say that it was the best decision I have ever made. I am not sure I believe in fate, I certainly don’t believe in god (or any of his associates), but that is the only point in my life where I feel as though there may have been some kind of ‘divine’ intervention. That and the time when Stephen nearly killed me throwing rocks into an air conditioning system, but that is a whole other story!
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