In which our heroine craves valium

I had my first actual lesson-lesson today and my confidence for the next two years has been completely undermined. I haven't had a problem putting my hand up and offering ideas and answers since I finished school and the last few days have been so relaxed that the classes felt more like a group conversation where there were no wrong answers.

Today I was late because I have a forty mile commute and hit traffic in the last mile so I was already worried I'd pissed off the tutor but it was all for nothing. The class was being held in one of the hospitality boxes at the stadium with a big window overlooking the pitch and I sat so I could see the man who cuts patterns in the grass. And I was settled in for class. Today was portfolio writing and Harvard referencing, and I kind of got it. I think. Then the tutor asked a question, I can't even remember what it was now, but I offered an answer expecting he would just say yes or no and move on to other people.

But he didn't. He decided to look at me expectantly like I hadn't finished my answer. So I scrabbled for a fuller answer, umming and ahhing and making no sense towards the end and then finally giving up and asking him to move onto someone else. Which, mercifully , he did. I was ridiculously shook up by the whole thing and you'd think I'd learnt my lesson but it had to happen twice more before I learned to stop putting my hand up.

We then had to write mock report conclusions and introductions and though my conclusion was the only one that didn't get critiqued to pieces, after he had read my introduction out he stared at it frowning for a full 30 seconds before murmuring "there is something about it..."

Blind panic. Alarm bells. Armageddon and horsemen. I blurt out everything that could possibly be wrong with my writing. After, he looks at me, hmms, nods, and moves onto the next person.

And now I will be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my natural essay-writing life.

Hmm.

Ta-daa! I finally started university yesterday, two months later than the rest of the country. It would be exciting if this week wasn't all admin and learning how to use the university's weird system and it would be enjoyable if I knew anyone/wasn't crap with strangers.

Today I spent four hours being told that liking PCs was wrong and that Apple is the best thing ever. Here's a trio of terrible secrets I have, dear reader... First: even though I know a lot about technology I refuse to certain operating systems (i.e. Mac) because I'm weirdly sentimental about Windows. Second: I hate Apple with a passion even though I know it's better. Third, and this is the worst: I still use Internet Explorer. I'll never change. I'm doomed to slow internet and crashing computers. We were invited back after lunch for a couple more hours learning the ins and outs of Apple Macs. My god, no. I'll probably regret it later in the semester but at the time it seemed like a life or death decision.

At university the whole being-social thing is a complete mystery to me. Most of the people on the course (there is only one course) live together nearby and so know each other. I commute 40 miles every day with two people I work with but I haven't made any new friends or anything at uni. It's only the end of day two now but I'm pretty sure I'm doomed to die alone. I don't really like parties because big social situations are my own personal hell and I don't drink so I'm usually the only one sober anyway. I say stupid stuff I regret and I do stupid stuff I regret. Today I was trying to turn the heater in the common room on and it was going AWOL, I panicked, thinking I'd broken it and it turned out the guy behind me had the remote for it and was flicking through the settings. And everyone was laughing. Shit.

Half of my classes this week are in a football stadium because the main uni building is busy and there is no heating. It's fine for all the sweaty rugby players walking around because they do weights for three hours a day but by the end of yesterday everyone was so cold they were going into spasms.

I also gained the nickname "Garfield" because I love lasagne.

I'll try get some pictures next week, we're being taught fire safety and pyrotechnics (boom).