In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Extreme Tale.”
“it was the best of times, it was the worst of times” – when did this last reflect your life.
It would be easy to use your first experience of love and heartache in response to this prompt, but I don’t want easy, nor do i want to bore readers with my everyday love story.
I would say my approach to this one is slightly lighter hearted than many other will respond. As the “worst of times” I am going to describe are by no means the hardest you will read about, nor that I have experienced but certainly not the nicest.
University.. so many have been there, so many have done it, and not every walked away with the t-shirt. Luckily I did, I got the Hons Degree.. that what you go for right ?.
In my case, wrong. I went to university because I left school without any idea what i wanted to do with my life. My parents, more so my mum, suggested Uni, saying that I would love it, theres a great social aspect, you are developing and working towards something.
My degree isn’t one of the best in the country, far from it, I don’t even work in the industry just now, however, the people I met, and the lessons I learned, most certainly were some of the best. No other course that we shared classes with or came to know were as close as ours, we took on the student life as a group, we never missed a night out and we had no problems skipping a class or two if it meant getting together and having a laugh and a drink.
Some of the people, became couples, some best friends. We laughed together, we cried together, we went abroad together, we went to funerals together, we were close.
I lived at home through my Uni days, but it became a second home. Many of my Uni group relocated to the city for University so had student accommodation ( now theres something I could tell stories about) , so we all tended to stay there most of the week.
We sacrificed real meals for super noodles because it meant we could afford nights out together. They truly were the best times of my life. We were living a dream and yes eventually we had to work both to afford the lifestyle and to achieve our degrees, but the thought of four years of this was a welcomed one.
But we forgot, overlooked one thing. It would all end. Eventually there would be nominee classes, no more flat parties, no more leaving parties at 8am to go to lectures. The course was finished and exams were sat. The rent had been paid, and it was time to go home for most.
Some disappeared , off the radar, not to be heard from regular enough to know about their lives. It is a sad thought, that we can’t still call a night out on the same day, or skip work to get a train down to the beach in summer.
I still work in the city, and walk through it every night after work. I see groups of students filling bars, filling our shoes. Its both the most wonderful of memory, but most horrible of thoughts, that we can never go back to those simple times again. Those days are over.
Thats why those are both the best times I have had, and also the worst.
I urge all that are about to embark on the university journey, to do it right, to do it hard and do not regret missing out on anything. It is truly the most incredible few years of a very long and up and down life. Live it !