Degreed

Post81

In my second year, Michelle was working in London, so I got all my studying done during the week to clear up weekends for her visits. I still lived at Heyford Hill and was due to graduate with a BA degree at the end of the academic year, so it was time to decide whether to go into business – in which case, I should do a masters degree in business administration – or law afterwards. I was convinced on law because, although it was more difficult to get higher grades, I really enjoyed it. So I arranged to begin an LLB degree – with an exemption from the first year again – straight after my BA graduation. Continue reading

Go With The Flow

Post80

In the early hours of the morning, we arrived at the port in Corfu, met by a gaggle of taxi drivers and others offering places to stay for the night. Over the noise came a booming voice from a thin Greek man with long, greying hair. Continue reading

Inter-Railing

Post79

During the summer term, my subjects were a combination of business and law. I was going out with Michelle and those long, warm days at college were spent between lectures, studying and enjoying life. I was happy and felt like I was heading somewhere. Continue reading

That Girl

Post78

Soon it was time to get back to Oxford Poly for the first day of term and results. I passed both exams, one fairly average B but the other a more promising B+. Satisfied with this, I began two business modules, which seemed a bit easier. This was a good term. I played loads of football and worked hard into the night. I got to know a lot of people and was enjoying life. Then I met a girl one night. I was completely drunk at the Bop chatting to someone I knew when I noticed her friend. Continue reading

Exams

Post77

As the first term drew to a close, reading week was followed by exams. I worked long and hard in my room for my first two law subjects. I drank lots of coffee and took caffeine tablets so I could work into the night. Quite often, I studied at the Bodleian Law Library, usually finding a desk at the back overlooking the rugby and football pitches. Sitting there, I revised incessantly. Behind me were row upon row of shelves crammed with law books, which seemed to make me work harder. Continue reading

Getting Into It

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It was the first day of Fresher’s week. I went along, but all the student societies looked a bit shite to be honest, so I didn’t sign up for anything. What I did join was the queue for free cash. It was student grant time and I needed money for the term. I stood, waiting in line and met a bloke calIed Danny, who was a great laugh. At that point, I knew only the students at Heyford Hill – of whom I had met a lot more, seeing as there were seven houses full of students – so I arranged to meet Danny at the Friday night Student Union party called the Bop. It was a crowded, very pissed evening and I had a great time with Danny and the others from Heyford Hill. It all got a bit rowdy on the dance floor when The Pogues came on. People were jumping up and down, pushing left and right, when I was shoved into some bloke. He turned and cocked a right fist to punch me. Danny launched a Pogues-like dance forwards and pushed him aside. It saved me from taking a punch. We laughed and jumped up and down uncoordinatedly to the music. Continue reading

Student

Post75

My brother, Marky, agreed to drive me to college. I travelled light and only had one box of stuff in the back of his car. During the journey, we chatted and caught up with what I’d been up to in America. When we arrived in Oxford hours later, he parked and I asked directions to the accommodation office. There was a big queue of students so we got in line for the keys to my room, which took about an hour. When the paperwork was complete, there was yet another queue for directions to the various halls of residence. Marky was neither student-friendly nor the most patient person in the world. As we joined the back of another queue, he wasn’t happy. Continue reading

Leaving The Bubble

Post74

In the lull following radiotherapy, I try to concentrate on more pleasant times and thoughts float to when I visited Oxford Polytechnic for an open day. I borrowed a car and set off in the cold, early morning February darkness. Continue reading

The Last One

Post73

I arrive for the last radiotherapy session, number thirty. Only ten minutes earlier, I was leaning against a wall and throwing up. With watery eyes, I wiped my face and made my way into hospital. After a fifteen minute wait, my name is called and I put down a magazine about the latest celebrity bullshit. I walk past the other patients and into the whitewashed treatment area. Continue reading

Torture

Post72

I go into the final sessions of radiotherapy and am so unwell. Through the waves of tiredness, I stop at my favourite doorway to retch and vomit before making it into hospital and telling the radiotherapy operators I’m not okay but want the treatment anyway. It feels like torture as my head and shoulders are strapped to the bench using that green mask. The horrible blue light flashes through my head to metallic clunking sounds. The smell of steamed broccoli fills my nostrils. Continue reading