RachCon One

So just got back from picking up A Level results. Well, I say just. Actually I’ve watched Cash in the Attic and eaten a sandwich since getting home with the Fateful Envelope. See: still have my priorities right.
Anyway, I know you’ll be gagging to know the score. (Drumroll…) 3 As! (Symbol crash.) Who’d have thought?! So now I’m in possession of 360 of your finest tariff points to spend at the quality university of my choice.
Mum’s still gunning for Oxford, Cambridge or Imperial. As we know, Dad doesn’t do opinions (’just want you to be happy, love’). And sciencey uncle Markus still wants me to study flowers in South America before going to, yes, Oxford, Cambridge or Imperial.
But, since I have no desire to sit around eating Bean Feast, listening to Bob Marley and being earnest, they’re going to be disappointed. I’ll go to uni, but next year. Got plenty of time to choose somewhere.
You know I’d love to come with you when you go to Australia Bicks but, as last time I checked I had £3.62 in my bank, that’s sort of unlikely.
And, while I’d like to think I could do a you, Em, and do Good Works, I’m almost certainly too selfish. I’d miss my home comforts too much. (Do they have Cash in the Attic in Nepal??)
So, gap year it is. I’ll get a job, try to save some money, and try not to feel too lonely with all my SELFISH BLOODY FRIENDS off at uni or Abroad.
On which note, TEXT ME YOUR RESULTS! Slackers.
On that bombshell, I must go. Antiques-based telly waits for no man. Or woman. Uh-huh, I know how to celebrate.
Laterzzzzzz.