I couldn’t handle much more disappointment. On Valentines Day I received a letter in the post covered in love hearts. I took one look at my grinning partner and decided instantly that the letter was probably from him. He insisted that it wasn’t. I mused over all the people it could possibly be from and finally tore it open.
It was from the sodding NHS.
Not only had they covered the letter in love hearts as a ruse they were accusing me of alcoholism. The bloody cheek. I filled out the form, indicating how many times I drank a week and how much.
Having a gin and orange with your Sunday dinner, and going out for a piss-up once in a blue moon qualifies you for alcoholism, apparently. I’ll see you all at the AA meeting…
So, with my Valentines Day disappointment still in mind I carefully peeled open the first letter.
“We are pleased that you have considered studying at our university, but…”
BUT!?
I folded the letter back up and stuffed it back into the envelope refusing to read it. Never have I been so petrified in my entire life. I couldn’t explain it. I never thought I would feel this way when the letters finally came.
When I finally managed to read both of the letters it turned out they were both extremely out-dated letters requesting forms I’d sent off months ago. Relieved, confused, and devastated all at the same time, I lay on the floor and gave myself a minute.
This counts as a near death experience, I told myself in the heat of the moment. I’m so bloody dramatic; god knows what I’ll do on the day the letters actually come.
All 5 of them...
