This is a good thing. A very good thing. It's weird though - ever since I sent the form off in January, I've been telling myself over and over that I won't get any offers so I wouldn't be disappointed if I didn't. I always think that if I want something too much I won't get it - that the fervent wanting and wishing cancels out any possibility of whatever it is actaully coming about. (I think I talked about that here before? Anyway.)

That hasn't come true this time though - I wanted to go to Greenwich, I'm going there. I wanted an unconditional offer so I wouldn't have to worry about my exam results -I've got one.

So why am I still not happy? I'm relieved, yes, because I cannot imagine what life at home would have been like if I hadn't had any offers, but I know it would not have been fun. At all. Can't say I'm ecstatic though.

I think it seems to good to be true. I applied for two courses at Greenwich - English, and English and History combined because I wasn't entirely sure I had/will have the results they wanted (I took English A Level before Curriculum 2000 came into being and now the system is different - long story which I won't bore you with) for English and combined courses aren't so competitive usually (or so I thought - maybe that's completely wrong) but they've made me an unconditional offer for both. I'm now thinking that maybe it's not a very good course, or that I won't like it. Or something.

I'm confused. I need time for this to sink in.

I will be a long way from here this September though. I will be in London. My Dad keeps asking me if I'm prepared for the small border town to big capital city culture shock - he doesn't understand that that's exactly what I want. Bring on the shock! I want to be cuturally shocked!!

I hate those TV programmes about cute complacent middle-class thirty-something couples with spoilt three-year-olds called Harvey who are lawyers or doctors or something and have lived in the city for ages but are moving into a cottage in Devon or somewhere with no civilisation for fifty miles in all directions. I just want to scream in their faces: "IT'S OVERRATED!!" Because it is. Honestly. If you live in the city, do not move to the country. Or if you're really set on it, rent a cottage in some remote area for six months, and then decide. Especially if you've never lived in the country before. If you're still determined after six months of mud, cold, rain, copious amounts of shit of every description, the ratio of small-minded bumpkins to intelligent open-minded people being too high by far, and shite TV on a Sunday evening because you can't be arsed travelling to somewhere where Stuff Happens, then off you go and good luck to you. Don't talk to me about the "joys" of it though, I swear that I. Have. Had. Quite. Enough.

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