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Daniel CourtRESULTIt was a Tuesday. I had woken up late, missed my 9am lectures and, skipping more lectures downed a can of Red Bull in the sun. All my jeans were dirty so I had to make do with the stupid half-combat, half-short things, with the elastic that wasn’t strong enough to hold them around your waist, which meant that if you put your iPod and your wallet in any pocket they’d fall down. I miss my lectures on Tuesday as a rule of thumb. I work back home, which is a forty-five minute train ride away from our university. If I go to my afternoon lectures it means that not only do I have to dawdle around the campus for a few hours after the morning lectures but I also have to get the train home in rush-hour pandemonium, which is testing enough. Seeing as the lecture theatre is closer to the station than my house it’s (supposed to be) more practical to take my things for work: a bag complete with coat, books, washing and a suit for my job. You can see why it’s easier if I skip the Tuesday afternoons. The downside being all that education I’d be missing out on.  The only reason I’d decided to go on this Tuesday was because I missed Thursday’s lectures and I thought I’d feel better doing some study before I go to work. Get the mind going and all that.I was the first of the late person to arrive, the others I’d hurried past outside smoking their cigarettes, all of which seemed suitably surprised that I was going to the lecture instead of “partying hard” on the dance floors of Squires, Source or any of the other nightclubs around the uni. Stumbling in with my hefty weekend bag swinging around me, whilst trying fix the pants that didn’t quite stay up gave the impression of a fairly confused, struggling human vortex. After disrupting most of the class and stopping my lecturer mid-sentence I was reminded again why I neglect my usual Tuesday attendance. “Today we will be learning the Civil Engineering Standard Method of Measurement - CESMM” [pronounced “sez ‘um”] I walk down the road with my bag swinging, my trousers falling down and a big grin on my face... The institution of Civil Engineering website tells me, “The object of CESMM is to set forth the procedure according to which the Bill of Quantities shall be prepared and priced and the quantities of work expressed and measured. The latest edition (3rd edition) was published in 1991 and reprinted with corrections in 1992.” I have learnt that right now. I can safely say that I paid no attention in the lecture. I spent most of the time trying to think up jokes regarding “sez ‘um” and wishing I was on a train going home.Then my phone goes and it’s my brother. He doesn’t usually call me, especially not during the day. He’s got training. How odd. I don’t answer and press the volume key on my handset to stop the already silent phone from vibrating. The phone goes again and is suitably ignored. Then my mind, numbed by civil engineering and the measurement thereof, begins to piece things together. Alert, I stand up and excuse myself from the lesson. I stroll into the vacant, silent corridors of the Harris building. “Alright our kid? How’s it looking? Did you get one?” I ask my brother. I want to tell him that it’s ok if he didn’t get a contract but I keep quiet. The rest of my brother’ and my family’s life will be changed significantly with this next sentence. The anticipation of it is like some twisted combination of Christmas Eve, the opening credits of your favourite film and a full bladder. “Well…” he starts disappointedly. “…They only gave me a pro!” “What? A professional contract? For real?” I shriek. “Yeah! Check me out!” I stop shouting down the phone to my brother and return to HB235, feverously collecting my weekend bag and the half-hearted notes and doodles I was working on, excusing myself from the lecture. I knew that my brother could do it. There have been a lot of obstacles in his way and he’s worked hard with his football from a very young age. It’s prevented him from having a lot of the fun that most children his age could. Nonetheless he’s persevered and come out tops. However, this success rings home a few truths. I have not stuck at my course. I have done well but I have viewed university is just an excuse to doss around, a stopgap between college and work. The work is easy enough but it’s the same tired story of the bright student lacking application. As I walked down the road to the train station with my bag swinging, my trousers falling down and a big grin on my face I decided that things have to change. My parents don’t know that I plan to re-sit my second year, but they will soon. Daniel Court wrote the story Iron Pyrite back in March. He's a student at the University of Central Lancashire. Paul Fenton, who took the photograph, is a third-year student at the University of Essex. 5:13 PM - 27/4/2007 - post comment
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