Saturday, March 31, 2007

Three grand for WHAT?


And so the holidays have started. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to have achieved this year but it was awfully jolly. I seem to remember a good resolution to stop drinking when I got to university, but who cares? at least I'm not doing it at the George anymore.
Today, at least, I'm making some kind of study schedule. I'm going to work hard for the next six weeks and stop going out until I have some money and I'm completely familiar with everything Shakespeare ever wrote.

Things I have learned this year:
  1. It's not going to the pub every night that makes you depressed, it's going to the George.
  2. Education is over-priced and under-resourced (especially the French Department).
  3. You can't write an essay without a lot of coffee, mature cheddar in chunks, and for optimum performance, cold frankfurters out of the fridge.
  4. A cigarette every 200 words and a pint every 1000 structures your essay best.
  5. Eighteen-year-old are just like us, except they don't remember the hurricane, they know who the Zutons are, they still love Queen and they think 37p for a pack of chewing gum is reasonable.
  6. When you're stuck for something to write, try rabid polemic- if possible connect it back to your own life.
  7. Teachers are just like us, often even the same age, but they get worried when you say 'Shakespeare' and 'bollocks' in the same sentence, even in the pub.
  8. Don't cycle to school in a mini-skirt.
  9. Try to avoid Sundays of Shame, especially with your kid sister, your boyfriend and Ritchie Chambers.
  10. There is no connection whatsoever between what is said in lectures, what is discussed in seminars, what you write in your essay and what the answers are in the exam. Oh, and the text itself. And all academics works are written by academics in much the same way that you write an essay- drunken deadline panic, three hours left, think I'll cut myself a hunk of cheese from the fridge, damn, I have to write something.

3 comments:

woodscolt said...

What is a Sunday of Shame?

problemshelved said...

Its when everyone sleeps in all the beds on Saturday night and then four hours later you wake up and realise the pub on the corner is now open for both fry-ups and alcohol and you stagger down and by the time you've eaten breakfast its pimms-o'clock and then maybe you go to some other pubs but maybe you go home and finish the tequila someone bought last night and dance to Prince and you might as well stay up late drinking because Monday is so clearly a write-off anyway.
Actually its impossible to describe unless you've been on one.

woodscolt said...

Oh, right. I know exactly what you mean. Are you coming next Sunday?