Red Tape

Well the time is nearly here. In two weeks time I will no longer be unemployed (oh the shame) but will be a fully fledged, card carrying student. Hurrah! As long as, that is, I can get past the mountain (yes a mountain, only an edifice that large will suffice) of red tape. A form about this and a form about that and of course the dreaded form asking for the bloody money (all donations generously received. You may even get a thank you note). Why, for instance, is it imperative the university knows whether or not my parents had a university education? Do they want to know exactly how working class I am? Just a little bit, or a fully fledged red under the bed. And why do they require four passport photographs of me? Are they thinking of sending me on some of Jason Bourne type expedition where I will be required to hold multiple passports (and drive around maddly in an old mini)? Hopefully this will be the case, as quite honestly, I am just not well travelled enough. Plus, I wouldn't mind dallying in a little bit of espionage on the side. It would break up the day wouldn't it? After all, there is only so much BBC World News and CNN that a girl can watch between sightseeing trips.

Anyway, the actual enrolment will be very interesting as I will finally be able to see what sort of people I will be spending the next year with and as long as I am better dressed than them all (and they're not techno-geeks), I am sure we will all get on admirably.