I still haven't remembered the story I was going to tell you on Saturday.
I've been all 'izzy-wizzy let's get bizzy...'
At work. At home. In-house: Outsourced.
At work, the atmosphere and outlook continue: High pressure. Gloomy, with frequent outbreaks of stabby.
At home, the man-child has received his A level results and actually did better than we had feared, and unlike 200,000 other students (poor wee bairns), was able to take up his first choice of University place, to read BSc Geography at Northumbria University.
The beam on my face at work when I'd knowingly hacked into his UCAS account to access this outcome was beatific...
I knew, you see, that he'd still be snoring, sound boring through the floorboards at home, until late in the afternoon. And I couldn't stand the pressure of my colleagues asking, 'how's he doing', 'how are you', 'what do you think he'll get', etc...
Seriously, the media circus and storm about this time of year is rather excessive, putting kids under just too much pressure 'to succeed' (whatever that means in this rampant time of doom, gloom and recession).
So, the man-child has now to secure accommodation, seeing as he never applied for it originally, believing he just wouldn't get the grades!
He may end up living at home yet.
I may yet need to advertise for a referee! Do you know anyone?!
Living as far out as we do from the city, he isn't classified as being a 'local' student, although we're obviously located in the same region of the country. Fingers crossed that we can find him something suitable as a base in the city, to start the new term with Freshers' Week (or whatever the young 'ins call it in this decade), mid-September...
I'm breathing a sigh of relief at the moment, I must admit. ...Although I do appreciate that this is only the start of yet another journey; a further milestone in Bringing Up Baby, with more hard work ahead.
Well done, son! I'm enormously proud of you.
Sunny, with patches of cloud. Temperatures warm to middling.
Light grizzling to be expected.