And so it continues. Results have been out. Arabic was not too bad. Mark for oral exam was disappointing and they must have made a mistake marking my Politics of the Middle East exam. The masterpiece called my dissertation was awarded a first, but not the big fat first class mark I had hoped for and I believe I deserve. All in all, no first class degree. I’ll live. My new flatmate Ben, who graduated last year in a degree in International Relations and Development Studies missing out on a first by 1.5 percent while partying hard during his final year, informed me that it’s the funky lot that obtain 2:1s. I just aimed for being ‘geeky’ while funky. Funky I’ll remain with my decent upper second class degree. Well done me.
And as said, new flatmate has been found. Or rather he found me. After getting rather stroppy after another no-show and throwing inner tantrums by staying up late, drinking too much grape- juice-for-grown-ups and consuming too many herbs, Ben emailed for a much needed face-to-face catch up as I hadn’t seen him since his house-party-of-the-decade in March 2009 and he casually informed if the empty room in the mansion was still available. As I replied affirmatively, he passed by, viewed and digged the flat, after which we had a few drinks at our local and the deal was sealed. With a shared love for politics, herbs, talking bollocks, good food and dub we’ll be the funkiest flatshare in Park.
While June’s weather is displaying rather schizophrenic behaviour and is confusing my constitution I am suffering from a cold-like ailment. As I am coming to terms with graduate life I realise that I have it rather easy. I don’t have to look for a grown-up- nine-till-five job and I know what I want from graduate life. I wonder how many fresh graduates are in that position. I guess it’s a question of moving on, count one’s fairy blessings, open those windows of opportunities and keep on riding the soul train.