'The Real World'

There comes a time during every graduate's life when they realise what it means to be a part of the "real world". It can come sooner rather than later for some. And I suppose for a few, it may never come at all; the comfort of daddy's bubble is too great.
     It hit me this week.
I was rambling down a muddy path with the autumnal leaves falling behind me when I was struck by a story I had read about how being outdoors made people happier.

   I breathed in the air and reflected on the fact that I had become one of  those city bugs who roll out of their office and huddle back to their terraced houses. This was further accentuated by the sheer awe I felt at the sight of a field full of horses. Gosh, it felt so long since I'd seen a sight like that. I hadn't even realised. I'd broken out of my cyclical cloud to remember a life I once had.
    The real world. Cold, hard concrete with glistening floors and typed conversations.

They say you don't miss something until it's gone.  
     The trouble is, ambition and determination are stronger than childhood fantasies. Compromise is for later life, for days when I fight as a feminist to juggle all pots and pans.

'Alan. Alan.... Alan!!'

Who is Alan? Who does the tent belong to?

Both are questions I cannot answer specifically, but I can tell you the story behind them.

So....

It all starts with a small piece of paper. A piece of paper that allowed me and a few others into an event they called Creamfields. It was my first ever festival, thus, naturally, I was as excited as I was petrified. My office had been filled with tales of Glastonbury mud streams, and other nightmarish visions I'd conjured, during the week before. Of course, they said, that will never happen to you. Pack some wellingtons though, you know, just in case.

Saturday morning came round far too fast. I'd stayed up too late catching up with my best friends (my younger sister and uni friend) and, as a result, had to rely on the adrenaline of the weekend to get me through the morning. Our drive up was full of the usual issues - car problems, confusing sign posts and a ridiculous rain shower - but nevertheless we arrived in Daresbury with all our limbs, a great deal of enthusiasm and only two pairs of wellies for three people. My best friend (who I shall name as Dave to avoid embarrassment on her behalf) assured me and my sister that all would be fine. She would simply wear her high tops. It looked dry enough, we thought, I'm sure she'll be okay. 

For those of you who are not festival-virgins, you are probably well aware of the many fields you have to cross before you are even searched, not to mention the miles you have to walk to find a campsite. Okay, so I am over-exaggerating slightly, but, when you're carrying a tent, a sleeping bag, a giant bag of clothes and at least three plastic carrier bags, even the tiniest of fields feels like a marathon. After clambering up and down a few hills, we came to the mud. Hauling our luggage onto the table to be searched, me and my sister looked around us noting that it was not going to be possible to have a 'rest' until we'd found some dry land again. At that point, we were still trying to see the possibility of getting through the day at least reasonably mud free. Ha! Behind us, Dave was busy checking we'd got enough sausage rolls. Bit awkward. 

Although it might seem like this blog post is going to be a moany rant, I would like to acknowledge how lucky we were compared to those who ended up with tents like the photo at the top of this page. There were many people who, not only woke up in mud, but also found their cars drowned in saturated fields. Luckily, our tent was not swallowed by a lake and we didn't fall over in the mud. We were accompanied by Dave who was dressed as a tiger and wasn't wearing any wellies though. She was banned from entering my sister's car until she had changed. Fair enough really when you consider the knee deep mud stream we had to walk through to get back to the car on Sunday.

We found a spot to camp in at the top of a hill. The only downside was that we were near the pathway so we were already aware that the outside of our tent was going to get a little muddy. Ah well. Tent went up a pole at a time until...

"Err guys. Have you got any spare pegs? I, err, haven't got any"

Dave had failed. She'd brought a tent all the way from Sussex but had misplaced her pegs. We didn't have any spare so we offered to take her in for the weekend. That tent was certainly cosy. Especially as all our bags had to be in with us. 

The rain had started. 

And the rain continued. We saw Alesso, Example, Avicii, David Guetta, Benny Benassi and Steve Angello strut their stuff whilst getting thoroughly drenched. Blimey, my sister and I even managed to have a full blown argument over a bottle of water. The poor guy who enquired about a lighter got a bit of a mouth full. Still, if I've learnt anything at this festival it's that everyone thinks you smoke and nobody brings a lighter. Nobody. 

So, at two am we slid our way back to the campsite trying desperately not to be the ones who fell in. 

The rain continued to fall. 

I woke every hour to the hammering on our tent and desperately hoped we wouldn't be washed away. At around five am, I heard the girls over the path complain their tent was sodden which ignited my dread of the morning. 

"Alan. Alann... Alan! ALAN!!" Apparently someone called Alan was badly needed on the campsite. Alas, no. Some joke I missed whilst burying my head inside Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. I relayed Alan Partridge's own "Dan. Dan. Dan. Dan. Dan." scene to Dave in a bid to try to understand. Apparently, it was similar but had nothing to do with it. I felt a little old at that point. Despite this, we weren't wet, we were reasonably hygienic and we had Sunday to look forward to. 

The lake a few tents behind us was starting to cause a bit of a stir amongst the ravers as midday struck. The lack of music from the event site was starting to concern people and they looked for distractions, naturally. In this case, that meant practising for the olympics swimming team whilst locating pillows and sleeping bags at the bottom of the pool. Grim. In a few hours, people would begin packing up as rumours of cancellation circulated the site. No member of staff ever informed us of the cancellation. We were forced to listen to rumour and, after seeking them out, accept the word of the police.

Creamfields was an interesting experience. It was one of utter joy and excitement as well as devastating disappointment. I will be returning next year simply because the music was divine and, although it's known for it's intense drug use, everyone was lovely and respectful towards each other. As first festivals go, it wasn't a bad one. I just wish I'd had the chance to enjoy it further. We never found out who the tent belonged to. However, as there were at least three campsites that looked identical to the photo, it could have been anyone of a number of people. Hopefully, whoever they were, they got home safe and sound. After all, mud just washes off.

Oh and I think Dave learned her lesson :) Wellies and tent pegs are pretty essential.

"Settling Down"

Life is full of stepping stones. They help and hinder you. The choices you make help to predict how you cope with these obstacles. Do you pick them up and throw them away or simply clamber across them? Do you ever look back and see the small pebbles that once felt like boulders in clay? Sometimes you get caught up in the rush. The surf carries you along and you forget.
     I have often found that it only takes a name or a touch to take you back to the emotion that lies buried in your chest. Alive and pumping, it crashes over you in a storm. I find these moments vital. They refocus and regenerate my youth and awake my soul. Significance is not clouded any more. It does not lay hidden.
     Who do you live for? Who do you fight for? Some people, like me, believe that they do things for themselves because ultimately, in life, you can only depend on one's self. Others do things for their parents/siblings. They seek pride and need. These are the people who ask, "Isn't it fantastic? Aren't you proud?". I have often wished I'd told them before they'd had to ask. I guess it does not really matter which camp you inhabit. Although throughout my analysis of human life, I have determined that people are usually one or the other. I'm not saying that people cannot have a little of the other too, but, predominantly, you're either doing it for yourself or you're doing it for someone else. As life goes on, I think we reach several stages where we are forced to question which camp we inhabit in order to make the choices that determine our path. A few weeks ago someone mentioned a name to me and in that moment I questioned why I had chosen this particular stone. On reflection, I merely decided that it was simply a glimpse of a star that helped to guide my feet it did not, necessarily, place them.
      My move to Exeter has been one of the biggest challenges of my life so far. And yet, despite getting thrown with the wind, I have regained my footing. I am simply putting one foot in front of the other. I carve my destiny out the hewn rock in the hope that my path will be steady for a while at least.

A Third Years Lament

‘It’s over’. This phrase has littered my Facebook wall for the past week. There is an over-whelming sense of loss associated with these words, further complicated with the protested relief. Third years have always been quick to get the final assessments over and done with. After all, reaching the end of the tunnel after a year of constant pressure is a beautiful feeling. Despite this, once it has sunk in, you are left with an odd emptiness. Your life is about to change once again. What next?

     For some, it is employment. This can be in an entirely new place as the prospect of a job is far too amazing to turn down just because you do not know the area at all. Joining the ranks of young professionals as a recent graduate is a scary task but one that, ultimately, should help set you up on a flourishing career path. Differences in circumstances will mean some graduates choose to take the plunge into real life sooner than others. But whether you put it off or not, the idea of earning your own money rather than paying it out is a very desirable option.

     For others, it is trying to build a life in the place they studied. Falmouth is a lovely place and many students decide to stay around. The Cornish coastline offers a great aesthetic and active appeal. In the South West, however, opportunities can be few and far between. A life in Cornwall offers many comforts but also many challenges.

     For many, especially in the current climate, it is time to go back home. This can be a daunting prospect. I, for one, relished being far away from home as it gave me the chance to assert my independence. Having to crawl back to your parent’s house can mean imposed night curfews and constantly having to double-check your plans. After three years of being able to do what you want, when you want, this withdrawal is not appealing. On the other hand, it does allow graduates to get their ideas together within the comfort of a rent-free, full fridge life.

     For a lucky few, it is a combination of some of the above. Whatever you choose to do, the end of third year is like standing on the edge of a precipice. It’s exciting and you can start afresh. But it’s important to embrace and learn from your University experience, maintain contact with those you knew there and give Falmouth a permanent place in your heart.

May the Fourth

Sometimes, through the haze of everyday life, you experience a day that does not leave you exhausted, but rather exhilarated. Friday, 4th May was one of these days.

Now, yes we all know the Star Wars joke (May the Force be with you); such a beautiful play on words. But no, that was not why it was a jubilant day. Something entirely on a different space station!

Okay, I'll get on with it. I attended a careers event. It was organised by the Employability staff at the University of Exeter and the student Employability Committee (CHUMS). The objective of the event was to allow students to hear from professionals the skills that were required in sectors such as Publishing, Media and Marketing. Students would then be able to participate in a networking event that would include the speakers and other professionals from sectors such as Heritage and PR. In order to add an extra element, we as hosts, asked a recent graduate from the campus, who is now working at IBM, to talk about gaining a foothold in a large corporation.  The format worked perfectly. After hearing the presentations, the students appeared to feel confident enough to network with the professionals.

As History President of the Committee, it was an immense relief to see it all come together, but also one of great pride.We all learnt a great deal. The speakers were all inspiring, which helped to boost confidence in both the team and the students. Indeed, the networking part saw queues of students trying to converse with the professionals.
For me, the event was a chance to reassert my confidence. Having spent a great deal of my childhood in a corner with a book, it has taken me a while to learnt to embrace my personality. However, on Friday I spoke with each professional whilst feeling confident and at ease. In the words on my uncle, "onwards and upwards". I am definitely set on a career in Marketing/PR, it's just a question of continuing to find work experience to add to my portfolio and CV. You never know, I may even secure a graduate job soon!!
I have definitely learned a great deal in my search for employment. Smile, have a firm hand-shake and research everything thoroughly. Friday brought all of this to the forefront of my mind. Now the dissertation is handed in, it is time to get back into the swing of job-hunting. And with this event under my belt, I feel ready to succeed.

It had taken months to plan but, despite the panic, it was a success. The CHUMS Employability Committee had held their first Speaking and Networking Event.

Have a Happy Birthday!

Yes, today is a special day. Why? Well....

 This time last year, the above guys were born. Me, Josie and Pete (to an extent) spent a good five/six hours delivering their beautiful little faces in the early hours of the morning. They all went to fantastic homes and we have kept in touch with them all. Dash, Holly and Ruby have made a particular impact on our lives due to their owners regularly updating us on their activities. Ruby has also begun her showing career with us. Ben even took her into a handling class a few weeks ago. 

Now for those of you who have bred litters who had children (or even both), you will know how the experience stays with you for the rest of your life; you brought them into the world and they will always be in your hearts. So a massive HAPPY BIRTHDAY PUPS (well no longer)!!!! 

Fingers crossed for another litter soon :)

A New Home

They say home is where the heart is, and I, for one, would have to agree. We moved house again this year and for the second time I returned from university to a completely new house. To some people, this would be very strange and I suppose to an extent it was. But I have always felt that where ever my family are, I usually feel at home. A house is simply a shell; its the people that make it a home. I think, if I'm honest, this is the only way to really cope with moving house alot. 

     Moving house also offers a fantastic chance to start afresh. I have always believed that life is full of chapters and that they are there to allow you to reflect on your life in order to make sure your aims stay within grasp. Perhaps it is the planning side of my personality but I am a firm believer in constantly maintaining goals and aims. This new house represents a completely new chapter in my life. I am about to graduate and hopefully begin my career path. It's an exciting but scary time. 

      For me, then, home is about family rather than a house. However, it does have it's drawbacks. After all, with a cute one year old running round and five dogs constantly vying for attention, getting work done is a task. This is particularly stressful with dissertation and essay deadline's looming. Still, I am the only person who will create my future so it's a question of excellent time-management. Oh, life skills.... they really are everywhere.

Remember

There are times in life when poetry says far more than you can possibly even try to. This poem refers to one of the hardest times:-

Remember by Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.