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"He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last blow failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion...Did he still cherish hope? Did he still believe, now that the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he would succeed?"
Chapter 34

So, another extremely helpful letter has just arrived from Oxford- the long-awaited feedback:

This, cutting out waffle about processes etc., etc., said precisely the following:

"Thank you very much for supporting Francesca's appliction to the college; we enjoyed meeting her and were sorry not to be able to offer her a place. Francesca scored a reasonable 63% in the History Aptitude Test, but although bright and engaged at interview she did not give as nuanced and sophisticated answers as our best candidates. We wish her every success in her applications to other universities."

Oh, I do love official letters. No, in all seriousness, as an aspiring writer and a connoisseur of insincerity and jargon, I genuinely enjoy them . Let's decode what all of this means, shall we:

A Day at the Reform Club

"Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club..."

Chapter 3

So, here's a bit of an experiment. Sort of like "a day in the life" piece.  I wrote down every little thing that happened to me, a typical A-level student, on a typical day in a typical week in a fairly typical school, to see how that reflects on my own personality, the education system, the day to day routine of life in general...

Ok, yes, so this could seem a little tediously self-centred. But hey, aren't blogs all about self-obsession expression? In all seriousness, though, I'd actually recommend everyone tries this out at least once,  so you realise how much random stuff happens to you in a single day. Time can seem to go by so quickly sometimes- but only because of our faulty memories.

Date: Monday, 16th January 2012  Timetable: Week B

6.55 a.m: Am woken up by Tina's worried face peering through my bedroom door. "Shouldn't you be up already?" she asks. Check my phone. Realise I haven't set my alarm to the right time. Curse profusely. Tumble out of bed. Then downstairs to scarf down breakfast.
Items utilised: fluffy white dressing gown (slightly tea-stained)
Consumed: two Continental Classics mini choc-chip brioches. One cup of coffee with copious amounts of milk.

In which the main characters of this work are introduced...

"Ah, we shall get on together, Mr Fogg and I!"

Chapter Two

I feel, before I get started on this blog proper, that it would be useful, in the manner of the best structured works, to introduce all the characters who might be likely to pop up. Please don't attempt to read the whole thing, unless you're really interested- it's intended more as a reference for things that appear in later posts. This will be subject to later expansions and revisions, if I can be bothered.

Introduction

"Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye...he gave the idea of of being perfectly well balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer"

From Jules Verne's Around the World in Eighty Days

Hello, you. Yes, you. Don't turn over the page. My name is Francesca, and, if you've got the time and I've got the courage, you and me just might go on a journey together.

I'm afraid I'm not very interesting. I'm eighteen, small and unprepossessing, and suffering from the highly anti-social personality disorder of thinking I'm funny. Unfortunately, I'm not oppressed by a dictatorial regime, although sometimes with the amount of homework I get it feels like it, nor a lesbian, although my dad occasionally says my haircut looks a bit butch, nor indeed a fictional character, which is a shame, because they seem to have all the fun. But nonetheless I'm in a bit of a pickle.

You see, just before Christmas time I went through what hundreds of kids up and down the country who in all modesty thought they were kind of clever went through. I got rejected from Oxford. Oh, dear, I hear you say. Diddums. They've got a drought on down in Africa, don't you know. Move on.

                                            The big bad nasty rejection letter. Boo, hiss...

Well, yes, that would be the sane point of view. Trouble is, this is somewhere I've wanted to go since I was fourteen. And I'm a stubborn little son of a bitch when I put my mind to it.  I took part in a protest when I was in primary school against our favourite climing trees being chopped down (we chanted slogans at our teacher). So, after the weeping, and the self-pity, and the deciding I was the stupidest person in the world ever,  I was left saying: really? Are you sure?

I have been feeling a bit overwhelmed by the soul-sapping drudgery that is A-levels and university entrance anyway, and wondering whether it was the right thing to go straight to university. But it was the easier way, so I shook the doubts off. I told myself I'd take a gap year after uni, but in my heart of hearts was scared I would chicken out.

So here's the plan: I take a gap year. I reapply to Oxford, to a different, less bitchy college, and work to get some money. And in the nine or so months remaining to me, I do all the stuff I've wanted to do for ages, like visit Moscow, work in Berlin, go on the trans-Siberian railway. And maybe I'll pop in on my folks in South Africa for a couple of months while I'm at it.

I know it's crazy. I've got an offer from Durham, which I would probably be throwing away if I reapplied. I could always do postgrad, or just stick two fingers up at the snooty bastards in their draughty little colleges and have done with it. Trouble is, I've only got one life, and I believe in living it to the full. And wondering "what if" and regretting in my old age scares me more than losing out on Durham. Besides, the world's probably gonna end in December 2012 anyway.

So, there you have it. The wager's been laid. And maybe I'll lose it and go to neither Durham nor Oxford. Maybe I'll chicken out and settle and go to Durham, which will make this blog kind of awkward. Or maybe I'll get run over by a bus tomorrow.

Either way, should be an interesting year. Care to join me?