Results day

A-Level results day, 1997.

What a scary day, scary, scary day. We woke up at her house on that bright sunny morning. It was usually such a busy house, single mother, huge house, 5 kids running around – but not today. All of the family were on holiday, it was just me and her in this big empty silent house, sitting around the kitchen table waiting, just waiting.

Killing time until 10AM was one of the most difficult things we had ever done together. With no one else in the house we usually would have made like the rabbits, but today neither of us felt like it. The acid in our stomach getting stronger and stronger with each passing minute, neither wanting to talk, both focusing on what would happen if we failed.

Finally we rounded the corner into college. We said hello to our friends as they brushed by, entering the hall where people were standing in groups, some smiling, some crying. Random shouts of joy and despair broke the monotonous drone of the hub. Recognising people from our classes by their shoes, their hands covering their faces.

I opened my envelope. I got exactly the opposite of the results I expected. My best result was Chemistry. Chemistry! I was crap at Chemistry! I pulled off getting an A in the exams, B overall – thrashing my predicted D grade. Physics and maths didn’t go well. They were modular courses so half of the marks were gained in the first year, the year I had tonsillitis all the way through. I had achieved B grades in my second year (as predicted), but these did little to cancel out the poor first year.

I was distraught. Would Southampton still accept me? I had met Leicester’s offer, but they were my second choice, I wanted Southampton.

The girlfriend did excellently, she always did, one of those people I guess. She was celebrating, I was anxious. It was horrible. More waiting. More phone calls. More stomach acid.

Southampton took me.

I’ve now got a BSc degree in Physics with Space Science. I hated that results day too, but I got the result I wanted then too.