In the whirlwind of a month that will go down in the history books as 'August'. I've been on a two week holiday (the weeks were like a threesome with Katy Perry and Jo Brand, one good, one bad), watched films, panicked about Results Day (Judgement Day, but worse), got drunk, panicked some more, got into university on Results Day and then got the fine example of technical excellence which is the very Macbook I type this out on now as a reward for my effing intelligent self.
My dad told me an amusing story once that seems semi-relevant here:
"Me and my mate Rob were going round town, when we were your age, and we saw these two good-looking lasses. So we went up to them and said 'Alright, you're very attractive' and all that stuff. And they smiled and said 'The feeling is mutual'. Well me and Rob just stared at them thinking 'Have they just took the piss out of us?' and we walked off. We got home, checked the dictionary to see what 'mutual' meant, and just went 'Fucks sake...'"
Thank Darwin it's nurture, not nature that matters, otherwise I'd never have gone on to study English at University. Well looking forward to it, give people outside of Doncaster the chance to meet the phenomenon that is Dean John Morris. I'll stop being big-headed now. Not really looking forward to living off a budget though, we've worked out that my ass is going to be surviving on just £55 a week. Some weeks are probably going to involve doing favours I won't be proud of, just to scrape enough money to buy a Cuppa Soup because it qualifies as both food AND drink. And that's if I haven't had to sell my cups!
Packing the stuff makes me feel painfully aware of the normal life skills that I'm finally going to have to learn, mainly to do with cleaning. I have managed to navigate through 18 years of my life without ever having to use a washing machine or iron my clothes. People will see me in the launderette approaching the machines like some foreign space object; "What? You're saying the cycle creates a hurricane that washes my clothes? Surely you're lying!". I can cook, which is good. Well, I say cook, I can read instructions on the food boxes, it's the same thing really. To be honest, I'm hoping my roommates are like the ones from that Carlsberg advert ages ago (y'know the one with the 3 hot women who cooked, cleaned and watched football?), surely that isn't too much to ask?
It is strangely close, I move into my room next Saturday, then have two full weeks of, socialising, learning the geography of Huddersfield (i.e: nearest cash point, KFC, Home Bargains, Burton, best nightclub) and getting pissed out of my face. Then my university education begins! Also hoping to try and get into the Student Radio there, after the success of mine and @lukegibbs seminal podcast 'The Top 5 MB Moments'. So I can phone your granddad and tell him I had sex with his granddaughter, that seems like something the public would go for......
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