Over the past year, I’ve gotten used to being the fresher – the new generation, if you will – at uni. I’m the one that’s not supposed to know what’s going on or where to go, so it’s all good. Now it’s officially a year on since I found out I was going to Bournemouth, I feel old.
Not old as in "oh my god I’m going to die any day now", no, that’s for those that already got their BA’s. I just enjoyed being the young one. Now there’s a whole year’s worth of people that can be considered adults now. Ah man, I’m old.
It’s been a year since I went through the process myself and now I’m in a position to mock. I haven’t listened to the radio so far today, but I’m 99% sure my mum isn’t being interviewed on it this year, but more sure of the fact Mr Griffiths the head teacher at my old school is busy defending it’s skyrocketing results scores from the negative Nancys. At the time I was thinking "Of course the exams aren’t getting easier, we’re just getting smarter" but now I’ve slipped into the de facto "Yeah they just teach the exams rather than the subject nowadays."
Anyway, I’m not meant to care, I’m a university student. My priorities now lie in making sure I can relive Fresher’s Fortnight again by blagging the fact I’ll do a couple of hours on the radio for it.
Whatever. To keep it short, I don’t like feeling old. But hey ho, still got two years of this lark to go until I really am old. Great.
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