Hello everyone :)
Here is a little something I've done this term, enjoy! http://oxfordstudent.com/2011/11/24/no-downturn-for-downton/
I'm now coming to the end of my first term at university - I can't believe that it has gone by so fast.
Of course, it has not been without its ups and downs. Being set two essays on the Thursday of Freshers' Week was not fun, and Facebook stalking my friends' photos of crazy nights out while I felt like I was in the library all day, everyday was at first rather crushing. However, I feel like I have now got into the routine of things, and hearing of people handing in their second uni assignment while I am on my ninth 2000 word essay in seven weeks has now become the norm. In fact, I now can't imagine not working, sad though it is.
Having said that, my university experience thus far has not been all about the work: I have met so many lovely people, danced awkwardly, dressed up in my Hogwarts gown, eaten in formal hall, seen brilliant plays and eaten a lot of ice cream in G&Ds at 11pm (where else on Earth is that socially acceptable?)
Oxford is a crazy place. 'Town and gown' coexist in one strange mix of normal town centre and gothic buildings. Bicycles triumph over the car, tourists take pictures of you and it is not unusual to see someone in a flowing black gown and a white bow tie at 1 am.
All in all, whilst it can be hard at times, and I still feel very new and naive, I am pleased to say that none of my worries about university life have actually come true. Oxford is just like any other uni - people go out and have fun, as well as working hard. Yes, there are a fair few people from very prestigious schools, but that doesn't mean that they all smoke pipes and wear head-to-toe tweed (or Jack Wills) - they are human beings too! On a more mundane level, I have surprised myself in culinary abilities, nothing has been shrunk in the wash yet, and I have even managed to function normally on four and half hours' sleep.
It's going to be strange to go home after 9 intensive weeks of work hard/play hard. Most of all I will miss the group of friends that I have made so quickly. Roll on Hilary 2012!
Friday, 25 November 2011
Tuesday, 16 August 2011
Results Day Waiting Game
It may seem unoriginal and clichéd to blog about results day, but for hundreds of thousands of young people, this Thursday marks a terrifying, and possibly life-changing day. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, it's not on a par with getting married or moving abroad or numerous other 'big' days, but it is the culmination of the last two years of our lives.
Almost every day in Year 13 (and at least twice a week in Year 12), our teachers reminded us that we are the new generation, the world is our oyster...and so we should work very hard in order go to university or get an amazing job, cure cancer, find an alternative to fossil fuels and generally save the world before bedtime. For all of this, we need A level grades.
Those three (or four, or more) subjects, which were our lives, which we loved to hate -or just hated -and took up so much of our time, energy and brainpower, now are just three (or four, or more) letters on a piece of paper. For me, this thought is quite calming, as in the end, they really are just some letters, and without my grammar school head on, I know that they are not the be-all and end-all of life.
It seems almost deliberately nerve-wracking that it is possible to find if you have been accepted by your two choices of universities.on the UCAS website. Of course, technology is wonderful, but I can't help imagining that with half a million people logging on at 8 am, the site is sure to crash, causing more stress.
I can barely remember what being at school was like, let alone how my exams went. I have pushed the subject firmly to the back of my mind and focussed on enjoying the summer. I can't believe that it has come round this quickly and now I really have to face the somewhat daunting prospect of My Future.
It seems to me that there will be many inevitable situations. To lighten the mood, I have devised a game I like to call Results Day Bingo! See how many you can spot.
1. Young people glued to computer screens, frantically pressing refresh on the UCAS website from midnight, giving themselves RSI in the process
2. Horrendous items on breakfast TV when a group of politically correct and racially diverse teenagers open their results live on camera. (Why they were persuaded to do this, I really don't know)
3. Gridlock around schools
4. (Particuarly applicable at a girls' school) Nervous screeching as people work each other up into a frenzy
5. White-faced teenagers and lost-looking parents
6. Increased sales of waterproof mascara (Got mine.)
7. Panic-inducing articles in the press about how many millions haven't got places, how many thousands applied this year, how the increase in fees has affected results, how many gazillions of A* and A grades there were etc etc
8. The all-important envelope
9. The attempt to work out why the teacher who knows your results is smiling at you. Is it pride, or pity?
10. The awkard moment where you see friends/classmates and you have to ask each other how they did.
11. The compulsory reports about child-geniuses (Geni? Genii?) who got seventeen A-levels in maths, further maths, extra further maths and have been accepted to Cambridge aged 4.
12. The journalist/spokesperson who says that A levels are getting easier (grrrrr)
13. Screaming/tears of joy/jumping up and down
14. Photos of this the next day in cringey articles local newspapers
15. Engaged phonelines to universities
16. Pubs and clubs full to bursting point on Thursday night
Almost every day in Year 13 (and at least twice a week in Year 12), our teachers reminded us that we are the new generation, the world is our oyster...and so we should work very hard in order go to university or get an amazing job, cure cancer, find an alternative to fossil fuels and generally save the world before bedtime. For all of this, we need A level grades.
Those three (or four, or more) subjects, which were our lives, which we loved to hate -or just hated -and took up so much of our time, energy and brainpower, now are just three (or four, or more) letters on a piece of paper. For me, this thought is quite calming, as in the end, they really are just some letters, and without my grammar school head on, I know that they are not the be-all and end-all of life.
It seems almost deliberately nerve-wracking that it is possible to find if you have been accepted by your two choices of universities.on the UCAS website. Of course, technology is wonderful, but I can't help imagining that with half a million people logging on at 8 am, the site is sure to crash, causing more stress.
I can barely remember what being at school was like, let alone how my exams went. I have pushed the subject firmly to the back of my mind and focussed on enjoying the summer. I can't believe that it has come round this quickly and now I really have to face the somewhat daunting prospect of My Future.
It seems to me that there will be many inevitable situations. To lighten the mood, I have devised a game I like to call Results Day Bingo! See how many you can spot.
1. Young people glued to computer screens, frantically pressing refresh on the UCAS website from midnight, giving themselves RSI in the process
2. Horrendous items on breakfast TV when a group of politically correct and racially diverse teenagers open their results live on camera. (Why they were persuaded to do this, I really don't know)
3. Gridlock around schools
4. (Particuarly applicable at a girls' school) Nervous screeching as people work each other up into a frenzy
5. White-faced teenagers and lost-looking parents
6. Increased sales of waterproof mascara (Got mine.)
7. Panic-inducing articles in the press about how many millions haven't got places, how many thousands applied this year, how the increase in fees has affected results, how many gazillions of A* and A grades there were etc etc
8. The all-important envelope
9. The attempt to work out why the teacher who knows your results is smiling at you. Is it pride, or pity?
10. The awkard moment where you see friends/classmates and you have to ask each other how they did.
11. The compulsory reports about child-geniuses (Geni? Genii?) who got seventeen A-levels in maths, further maths, extra further maths and have been accepted to Cambridge aged 4.
12. The journalist/spokesperson who says that A levels are getting easier (grrrrr)
13. Screaming/tears of joy/jumping up and down
14. Photos of this the next day in cringey articles local newspapers
15. Engaged phonelines to universities
16. Pubs and clubs full to bursting point on Thursday night
I also found this in a frantic internet search for reassurance. I hadn't considered a lot of these things, so take a look.
Good luck everyone!
Monday, 11 July 2011
Jog on
Ever since I can remember, running has been one of my least favourite things to do. Along with tomatoes, small yappy dogs and Geography GCSE, pounding the streets is up there on my hate list.
My mum remembers how, during my nursery obstacle race, I ran as far as the plastic tunnel and never came out, thus letting my team (the blue squares) down in a big way. In primary school, I remember dreading sports day, knowing I would come last in the compulsory running race.
So, it is with great surprise that I find myself writing this after going for a jog for possibly the first time ever.
What triggered this massive change of heart was going to see my friend's dance show yesterday. Watching so many sleek, toned and elegant girls backflip and pirouette around the stage made me feel like a blob. There were probably seven year olds there who were fitter and more flexible than me!
I decided that I really should do some exercise.
I dusted off my trainers, last used in school P.E. circa 2009, pocketed my iPod, and set off down my road. 'This is great!', I thought as I whizzed down the hill. 'I feel so free! Why didn't I do this befo-aaaarrgh stich." Needless to say, when the hill ran out it wasn't quite so great. But I carried on.
I was so pleased with myself that I manged to run for the length of two whole songs. Only later did I discover that said songs are possibly the shortest in my library, and total about 4 minutes 50. However, this is about 3 minutes 50 more than I thought I could do.
Inevitably, I did not run the whole circuit and had to slow to a fast-ish walk pretty quickly. Nevertheless, I arrived back home sweaty, disgusting and probably more out of breath than I should have been, but happy and proud of myself.
I'm not sure if this will become a part of my summer shape-up routine (I'd go for no), but I have definitely learnt three things from my brief foray into the world of running.
1) I should have waited longer after my dinner because I now have the worst case of hiccups known to man.
2) I need to invest in some better exercise gear. Some teenage girls stared at me for just a bit too long as I stagggered past them in an ancient T shirt and greying tracksuit bottoms. Look the part, feel the part afterall!
3) A jogging playlist is an essential. My usual mellow mix of indie, laid back pop and folk was not condusive to running. I found myself listening to songs that I hate, in an attempt to find a beat which I could run to.I may have to grit my teeth and venture into the world of dance music.
My mum remembers how, during my nursery obstacle race, I ran as far as the plastic tunnel and never came out, thus letting my team (the blue squares) down in a big way. In primary school, I remember dreading sports day, knowing I would come last in the compulsory running race.
So, it is with great surprise that I find myself writing this after going for a jog for possibly the first time ever.
What triggered this massive change of heart was going to see my friend's dance show yesterday. Watching so many sleek, toned and elegant girls backflip and pirouette around the stage made me feel like a blob. There were probably seven year olds there who were fitter and more flexible than me!
I decided that I really should do some exercise.
I dusted off my trainers, last used in school P.E. circa 2009, pocketed my iPod, and set off down my road. 'This is great!', I thought as I whizzed down the hill. 'I feel so free! Why didn't I do this befo-aaaarrgh stich." Needless to say, when the hill ran out it wasn't quite so great. But I carried on.
I was so pleased with myself that I manged to run for the length of two whole songs. Only later did I discover that said songs are possibly the shortest in my library, and total about 4 minutes 50. However, this is about 3 minutes 50 more than I thought I could do.
Inevitably, I did not run the whole circuit and had to slow to a fast-ish walk pretty quickly. Nevertheless, I arrived back home sweaty, disgusting and probably more out of breath than I should have been, but happy and proud of myself.
I'm not sure if this will become a part of my summer shape-up routine (I'd go for no), but I have definitely learnt three things from my brief foray into the world of running.
1) I should have waited longer after my dinner because I now have the worst case of hiccups known to man.
2) I need to invest in some better exercise gear. Some teenage girls stared at me for just a bit too long as I stagggered past them in an ancient T shirt and greying tracksuit bottoms. Look the part, feel the part afterall!
3) A jogging playlist is an essential. My usual mellow mix of indie, laid back pop and folk was not condusive to running. I found myself listening to songs that I hate, in an attempt to find a beat which I could run to.I may have to grit my teeth and venture into the world of dance music.
Friday, 1 July 2011
Free as a bird
I am back! Exams are over, summer is here and I am generally free!
The past month or so has NOT been fun:
Having made my bedroom far too messy, the power couple of revision and I took over the dining room, which is spacious-but also dark and gloomy and cold. Locked away in my study cave sporting my compulsory uniform of pyjamas or a hoodie and with my hair piled up precariously on top of my head, I came to resemble the most terrifying of beasts: the revision goblin. (Read more on this phenomenon here) This reached scary extremes when I managed to cripple my important writing hand with some sort of R.S.I. from furious scribbling, and developed back ache from being hunched over copious books.
But, six and half hours of fierce concentration later, A levels are over, seemingly as quickly as they arrived. I could technically never do an exam ever again-a wonderful prospect!
But now, what to do with my new-found freedom? I have 93 sunny, fun-filled days until university to fill with...whatver I like!
Of course, I've made a to-do list. From the mundane, (student finance applications), to the vague (watch old films); from my plans for day trips (Broadstairs, Brighton, London) to my personal aspirations (drive on a motoway, read about feminism), this list will be the basis of my diary for the next few months.
I am going to mercilessly exploit my 100 Days of Summer for blog material, so keep your eyes peeled.
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
You know you're revising when...
1. 'Going out' consitutes a quick walk round the block or to the shop.
2. You forget the last time you wore make up
3. The majority of your wardrobe remains untouched and you live in pyjamas/anything comfy
5. No matter how hard you try to write neatly, your hands are always covered in ink.
6. A new Pukka Pad or set of highlighters becomes an amazing gift.
7. Your mum brings you a care package of a cup of tea and a pack of new biros.
8. The room where you revise becomes a sort of revision cave: dark, littered with various stationery products and important pieces of paper.
9. The words 'mindmap', 'stress', 'exam', 'essay plan', 'past paper', 'revision timetable' and 'HOWONEARTHDOTHEYEXPECTMETODOTHIS!' become the foundations of your vocabulary.
10. Similarly, the words 'fun', 'me-time', 'TV' and 'social life' become obsolete.
11. Everything that isn't revision is seen as a waste of time (Including writing blogs when you should be revising for English Lit)
12. Due to having few alternative sources of fun, you consume at least eight cups of tea a day.
13. You don't know how you managed to do this the last time round, and the time before, and the time before that...
14. You know the precise amount of your life which will be spent under exam conditions , and the amount of time until the next exam in days, hours and minutes. (6 and a half hours and 3 days, ten hours and fifty-eight minutes, if you wondered)
15. SUMMER and UNIVERSITY PLACE become stamped on your brain as motivation.
Keep going everyone!
2. You forget the last time you wore make up
3. The majority of your wardrobe remains untouched and you live in pyjamas/anything comfy
5. No matter how hard you try to write neatly, your hands are always covered in ink.
6. A new Pukka Pad or set of highlighters becomes an amazing gift.
7. Your mum brings you a care package of a cup of tea and a pack of new biros.
8. The room where you revise becomes a sort of revision cave: dark, littered with various stationery products and important pieces of paper.
9. The words 'mindmap', 'stress', 'exam', 'essay plan', 'past paper', 'revision timetable' and 'HOWONEARTHDOTHEYEXPECTMETODOTHIS!' become the foundations of your vocabulary.
10. Similarly, the words 'fun', 'me-time', 'TV' and 'social life' become obsolete.
11. Everything that isn't revision is seen as a waste of time (Including writing blogs when you should be revising for English Lit)
12. Due to having few alternative sources of fun, you consume at least eight cups of tea a day.
13. You don't know how you managed to do this the last time round, and the time before, and the time before that...
14. You know the precise amount of your life which will be spent under exam conditions , and the amount of time until the next exam in days, hours and minutes. (6 and a half hours and 3 days, ten hours and fifty-eight minutes, if you wondered)
15. SUMMER and UNIVERSITY PLACE become stamped on your brain as motivation.
Keep going everyone!
Monday, 16 May 2011
Exams, Revision, Leaving School and General Stress
Sorry for the lack of posts- it's that time of year again.Exam fever has hit the nation. Sales of cue cards and coloured pens have rocketed. Hair remains unwashed and eyebrows unplucked until one finds some of that evasive diamond, time. The library, once the ghost-town haunt of the dedicated few is now a packed temple for the worship of that terrifying god: Revision.
I'm also leaving school on Friday. WHAT?
I'm also leaving school on Friday. WHAT?
It has always seemed to me that whilst you were at school, your life was on hold before you decided what you wanted to do with it and it became your own. After fourteen years of being told what to do, all predictability is now gone and I am in charge -definitely a scary prospect.
The response of most of my year group when reminded of our impending freedom is usually a collective wail. School has been our home for perhaps the most important seven years of our lives. It is hard to believe I am the same person as the chubby, timid little year 7 with a rucksack bigger than her body and white ankle socks. I have done amazing things, visited beautiful places and met such a variety of people. The thought that I might never see some of them again puts a lump in my throat. I can guarantee I will shed some tears on Friday...and on Leaver's Day...and at the Leaver's Ball...and results day...
There will of course be things that I will not miss. Early mornings, the smell of the changing rooms, disgusting toilets, dodgy canteen sandwich fillings, the long slog up the hill from the station and never-ending homework are things I am glad to be shot of once and for all.
I wish all school leavers the very best with your exams and deciding what to do with your future. If you are (un)lucky enough to have a few more years to go yet, enjoy it! You may find yourself sadder than you think to leave.
Now if you don't mind, I'm off to revise Tess of the D'Urbervilles. I will hopefully magically ping back to my usual self in one month and one day (and counting!)
Good luck everyone!
xxx
Thursday, 14 April 2011
Signs of Spring
An almost unhealthy obsession with the weather is something that the British do best. We seem to be able to pick up on minute details and use them to predict everything, from cold fronts to cloud cover, heat waves to hurricanes. “The cows are lying down, it’ll rain, mark my words.” “The pinecones have closed up, dry weather must be ahead.”
Apart from these wonderful proverbs and the obvious-daffodils, lambs, lighter evenings, etc- there are a few more quirky things which always remind me of the change in season.
I know sunny days must be on the way when the ice cream van parks outside the school. When Mr Whippy tells you it’s acceptable to eat a ninety-nine in late March, you do not argue. Winter is most definitely over.
Another sign of spring is that the canteen, normally full to the brim with cold, hungry teenagers, empties out. Suddenly sandwiches and baguettes fly off the shelves and people picnic outside.
A sorry side-effect of this better weather is the sudden realisation that summer, and therefore the exam season, is just around the corner. The library becomes significantly busier, and people start comparing notes on revision timetables and having in-depth conversations about the merits of various stationery products.
Apart from the odd dreary grey morning, I could almost believe it was June already. One day, I may even leave house without my coat. Gasp, this really must be serious.
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