Clever Darling
Hmm. Last updated on the 13th December. How embarassing.

Going to Oxford for my interview was like a massive drug fuelled session or something. I took mum down on the coach so we could go shopping for the day before I booked into the college, hoping to chill out a bit. Then as soon as I was in St John's (OMG THIS PLACE IS A CASTLE, MY ROOM IS IN A TOWER etc etc) I was leaving again, headed for an internet cafe because they'd neglected to tell us that the uni operates on intranet, not wifi. Made friends with a girl from Texas interviewing for History. She'd never seen snow. It snowed the next morning, but she was sleeping. Typical Americans.

Anyway. So I also met this guy called Hitesh interviewing for Law, from Leeds. Never met anyone quite so nervous about anything. But I get on pretty well with him, still talk to him.

The interviews themselves were, well, pathetic really. The first one was literally just a question read out loud and discussed. It was a nurse, who had a contract that said she had to work 40 hours a week, but may be required to work up to 70 hours. She'd been working 60+ hours a week for ages and was suffering for depression and exhaustion. Can she complain about breach of contract. Discuss. BORING!!! Anyway, second one was similar, one tutor, one post grad in each interview. This one was basically explain how you'd set up a committee to investigate human cloning. I was deathly concerned when they finished: everyone I spoke to had said more or less the same thing, and how on earth were they going to discriminate between me and that really stupid girl applying for Law and French? She spent the entire interview period chasing after some Irish guy who was studying Arabic. Blegh.

So with the disappointing company and lacking interviews, I wasn't feeling great on Friday after sitting around all day Thursday waiting to see if I had another interview. Friday morning: ok, you've got another. Right, fine. It's rescheduled. Ok. It's rescheduled again. ARGH!! Anyway, I finally got over to St Anne's, where I had two case studies to read. One was a woman sueing for loss of opportunity and therefore potential earnings, and another was a man suing a doctor who had failed to diagnose a condition that would lead to him probably not living ten years. Eleven years later. Idiot. Then I went in, discussed those etc. Then I was given a situation wherein some people think they've murdered a guy, so they chuck him over a cliff. But he actually dies from exposure. Are they guilty of murder? Then a quick chat about wikileaks and information privacy, and finally a word game: redefine 'this knife is for cutting bread' as many times as you can. I had four or five. I think that impressed them. Oh, by the way, there were four of them. Four Oxford law tutors, one room, one victim.

So anyway, there's me, heading home, the coaches buggered up too. I didn't go up to York because of the crap weather. They still haven't gotten back to me actually, guess they don't want me.

22nd December - I got a letter from St John's saying they didn't want me, but I'd be hearing from another college. The letter didn't specify whether the news would be good or not, just that I was under consideration. Cue depths of misery.

23rd December - This letter is now pinned to my wall, and no matter how many times I read it I still don't quite believe it. 'St Anne's College is pleased to offer you a place to study...'. I'm going to Oxford University. Just digest that. I still haven't.

24th December - No time to rest, down to Hastings with ye for christmas. Staying in a dreary B&B owned by a cat lady and in possession of an odd odour. Christmas happens. Gifts are given, including my Kindle ebook reader, which I love with a fierce passion. I also got three bottles of champagne, including a Moet et Chandon, for getting into Oxford. That's right, Oxford.

Then there's January, what I like to call hell in a pancake. EXAMS. Ever done exams knowing that your place at Oxford depends on them? Stressed doesn't really cover it. And then as soon as they finished: English cw final deadline.

Oh, and of course, my milestone 18th birthday. We went out for a lovely dinner and...I promptly caught a serious vomiting virus. Clubbing is not an option. I am still forced to go to the family dinner in order to receive my trust fund and other expensive gifts including a steiff bunny rabbit I have named Sherlock. Incidentally, I read the entire Sherlock Holmes collection during exams.

So now it's mid february. I've got a full bank account, an offer from Oxford, healthy, myxi free bunny rabbits, a while until my next set of exams, and a holiday to a luxury villa in the woods booked for just over a weeks time. I guess things are going pretty well.
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