I was already heading off on a new adventure, I was leaving behind my one year old boy, feeling so guilty. I kept telling myself that it was for our own
good. Early evening and my end destination was a well-known educational institute.
I was in the first year of my degree in politics and this trip was summer school. As normal I was unprepared with only my travel guaranteed, no
accommodation sorted. I had packed some sandwiches which would be my only nourishment until the next day.
Arriving at Waverley station I was adamant not to sit to the rear of the train. Everyone knew that's where all the smokers sat, and with being a recent non-smoker, I was so proud. Slouching into the leather seat I soon dozed off sleeping most of the way to Stevenage, my departure point.
Almost six hour later I was in the Milton Keynes OU campus soon realising everywhere was taken, so heading to the nearest watering hole, I
brazenly entered within. A commotion was evolving. A young short haired "ladette" type was downing a yard of ale encouraged to "down it" by a
crowd of twenty rowdy student types. She raised her elongated glass like she had just been presented with an F1 trophy, cheering abound. She introduced herself as Catherine or Cookie to her friends, a first year studying politics like me. She was going to be either an absolute nightmare or a complete dream! I was taken by her ability to burp what sounded like "God save our...." I offered her another which she hastily took, and whilst waiting for the pouring I enquired about Flats or student places to bed down for a night or three.
I was not surprised when she said that I and the others could go back to hers, after all the place belonging to her ageing aunt was humongous. We all sat and drank chilled wine and beers until the early hours. Falling asleep wherever. Only to be awoken by her crazy morning antics of parading around semi-naked, well, wearing her homemade bikini? She was however a perfect host making fried egg and bacon sandwiches for all around. Once all were catered for she would tend to herself and when finished she would spin her empty plate directly into her rickety old dish- washer. She would. disappear for a short time returning her face covered in shaving foam, carrying an old open razor, jokingly asking "Who is Next"? Once she saw everyone had had their fill she would enquire who wanted a piece of Cookie. Then return to her bedroom with a selected few. No one knew what exactly went on through in that room, not sure I should venture there!
Tutorials were a pretty straightforward affair and it helped knowing the tutor was already a friend of sorts. A brilliant academic with twenty five years plus experience of political life back home. We would all gather in one of the local bistro's supping coffees and munching croissants. We would be discussing whatever political scandal was current or imminent. We had expressed our annoyance in our limited time for instruction.
All of this summer school was a new experience for most. But Catherine always knew when to lighten the mood, always first to change from drinking coffees to downing yards and yards of ale. Drinking until she fell over or passed out. As she was our mainstay landlady we always made sure she was accompanied home safely and put to bed whilst others explored the nearest town of Stevenage, full of quaint buildings and coffee shops and an excellent ice cream parlour, always a crowd gathered outside. It served a multitude of flavours, mine being Rum n Raisin by the bucket load.
Some of the other students would club together to buy enough food to rustle up a half decent meal so it was not all Pot Noodles. This part of my day was spent wandering around looking for a free to use pay phone. There were no mobiles then. On getting through to my son’s mother I would lie to her about how much I missed her although I did miss my son. I would blether absolute rubbish enough to waste an hour or more.
The days and weeks quickly expired, an examination for which our results would be sent on to our home addresses was about the last thing we did within the OU establishment.
A massive last night gathering was organised by the ladies. A “vicars n’ tarts” theme was pretty much the norm or “come as you jolly well please”. All would be showered and dressed up to the nines, having already emptied the home's cabinet of its leftover wines. We agreed to compensate Cookie before we left for our individual homes. But for now it was time to party!
Arriving at the venue I was deafened by the DJ's constant warbling's, and his claims of how his next stop was Radio 1. All of the familiar by now faces were in attendance, Cookie, Jane, Cassandra, James, Billy and Michael. All great scholars in their own right. Cookie again was on the bell buying drinks for those around her. This was her community and girl was she going to enjoy the experience. Of course drinks a-flowing she in turn was soon drinking from her favoured vessel. This was of course my last night before heading back home to Scotland, my son and girlfriend a journey which seemed to take forever.
At least I had my memories of my Big Adventure which have lasted a lifetime!