Читать книгу Class of '79 - Chris Rooke - Страница 15

The next day, on the Monday, we made our separate ways back home, where our ‘A’ level results were awaiting us. I thought I’d done okay, not brilliantly, but okay. However, when I opened the letter I was in for a shock. I got a ‘C in History, an ‘E’ in English Literature (by far and away my best subject) and a ‘U’ in Geography, meaning that I’d failed it altogether. I was reeling. I went into the park and climbed a tree - I didn’t know what else to do. My world fell apart. Failing Geography altogether wasn’t great, and only getting a C in History was poor, but an E in English Lit??!! Bugger. I was so shocked and traumatised by my results (although in retrospect they were what I deserved) that all I could think to do was to go over to the park opposite our house, wander about aimlessly and then climb a tree and sit in it for a couple of hours. The problem was, that I soon realised that there was nothing I could do to change my results; no amount of mooching around or self-recrimination or sitting in a tree was going to change things – my results were what they were, and that was it.

I had applied to read English Lit at University and unsurprisingly none of the five universities I’d applied to were remotely interested in taking me following my extremely poor results. I’d applied to Universities that were all part of the Russell group, which were universities considered to be of particularly high quality. I contacted clearing, but due to my abysmal grades they weren’t able to find anything for me either. English, they explained, was a very popular subject, and there was little chance of finding a course willing to take me with my grades (or rather, lack of them).

Damnation. What to do? My whole life up to that point had been based on the premise that I would go through school, and then go to University to read English Lit. and suddenly the whole plan was destroyed, just like that. I had two options: take the year again, re-sitting my A levels at the end of the following year, or go for my ‘insurance’ application to read History at Portsmouth Polytechnic, for which I had been offered a place, but I had not yet accepted? Now, at the time Polytechnics were seen very much as second class institutions, not on a par with Universities, and certainly way below those universities in the Russell group, and I suppose I was a bit of a snob. Decisions.

In the end I was just too proud to face going back to school, having to re-sit my final year with students who were a year below me, whilst all my friends were off at Uni. or wherever, so I opted to go to Portsmouth and read History, reluctantly accepting the place that was thankfully still on offer. I was good at History, and quite interested in it, but as subjects went, as far as I was concerned it was far below my preferred subject of English Lit, and it had been a hard decision to make. Whatever the case I prepared to set off for Portsmouth – where was that exactly?

It had been the first real knock-back I’d ever experienced (apart from never having been picked for any school team in any sport during my entire school career!) but I took it on the chin, got my stuff ready, and my brother prepared to take me in his VW Camper van to the digs in Southsea that the Poly had provided for me. Little did I know what awaited me at college (college, not university) and little did I know what a completely mad and topsy-turvy 3 years it was going to be, in every way!