The End of Summer 2011

Wednesday never happened in the way I intended it to. I did promise stories of a special meeting with the papers, but that never happened as it was replaced by other things. We'll leave that one there.

My countdown to university has been getting ever slower, as friends start to drift off to their new lives. Monsieur Field and Madam Ellie Goulding have both already gone to Swansea and Plymouth respectively, starting their Freshers weeks earlier than the rest of us. I believe Beddoe is going back to the biggest year of his life in Manchester as he will surely gain a 1st in his degree in Facebook Studies. No pressure though Beddoe! Kettle goes back to Coventry on the same day as me, (I think), to start the 2nd year of his degree in Pretending To Be Someone Who is Fictional. Watty goes back to Loughborough some time next week to finally reach the end of a degree, Billie goes back to the gun capital of the UK if she survives the Islamic fundamentalists that may well plague her flight back from Spain, while Colin decides whether he wants to join the RAF, go to University, (despite it being way too late), become a neurological scientist, or an author, or a semi-professional footballer while studying archeology? You never know with him.

Everyone's going their seperate ways, and even though I am involved this time, I can't help but feel a little sad. This time last year, I sank quickly into depression as I realised I would lose my friends once more to the lure of University banter, while I was stuck. This year, I am joining in the fun, and I am drifting between being on top of the world through excitement and not shitting bricks, but shitting whole houses instead. One day I am amazingly excited at the prospect of a new life, the next I am deathly nervous about what lies ahead and whether I will be able to cope with it all. On Tuesday, I was dangerously excited, albeit wasting away behind Till 2 of the "berp", but Danica, (the hyper, chatty Serbian one!), joined in with the excitement of it all. Her son is going to Nottingham, so she sort of knows what it's feeling like. On Wednesday though, after the failed plans, I was rather down and nervous about it all. And today I've been back to excited, so tomorrow won't be a good day if the pattern is to believed. And given it's now 04:34, and I have the alarm set for 10:00, I imagine I might be quite irritable aswell...

I'm not sure this Summer has been the best of the lot. It hasn't been great weather-wise, I've always seemed to be working when the Hawkers go out on the town, and I have missed a fair bit of activity, while wasting away in what is now considered Hell. Don't get me wrong, it's certainly had it's moments. The nights out at the beginning of the Summer, involving a lot of foam and water, the golf and cricket and the poker nights of late. It's certainly had it's moments, but there have been too many times that I have missed out on. I can't even remember the last time I went out on the town, and for once, that isn't because of excessive alcohol.

And now I'm 8 days away from leaving the house I've lived in for over 20 years. The small room at the back of the house, where I have hidden away, had some of my darkest days in, yet enjoyed many times in. 8 days away from the complete independance I once dreamed of, and despite being excited of what lies ahead, I am so, so nervous of failing. If I fail, I won't know where to go. I dread to think what I will do if I don't succeed and complete this adventure. It is that, I am most nervous about. Some, if not most, would say, "Make sure you don't fail then", or, "You won't fail!", but it's easier said than done with me. You all know that.