My first university interview.

It went something like this.

I left my house at ten to seven to discover that all trains to Brentford were delayed or cancelled. At 8am, the first train headed in the right direction arrived. I scuttled on with numb toes, having stood on the platform for 50 minutes.

One stop later, it was announced that the train was running express, wouldn’t be stopping at Brentford and anyone going to their first interview for university SHOULD GET OFF THE TRAIN.

I did.

I then tried to get a cab only to discover my phone had run out of credit. In Putney. 20 minutes before the interview was due to begin. I should mention at this point that I was becoming increasingly desperate for the loo.

I topped up my phone, called a cab and did not cry (or poo) in the street.

I called the University repeatedly whilst in the cab until I finally got through, explaining my predicament.

The cab’s satnav was on the fritz but somehow we found the campus obscured under a motorway bypass. Busting for the loo, I ran to the room allocated for the selection day, apologised profusely, was told my reference couldn’t be accepted as it wasn’t on letterhead and then sat down to complete a math test.

Once I had completed the test in record time due to desperation I was permitted a restroom break. After this, matters improved somewhat. We then began an observed group discussion without a moderator. 20 people, 20 minutes to all explain why people who abuse their health should or shouldn’t pay for their own healthcare costs with the further aim of writing about the experience reflectively on completion.

I doubt I was heard over the roar of competitive applicants all speaking at once.

We broke for lunch whilst the math and literacy test were being marked and then we returned to sit together whilst the names of those who hadn’t passed the tests were called and asked to leave the campus.

Luckily my name wasn’t called. I stayed and despite the horror that had come before, completed a strong interview. They did lots of smiling and nodding and saying very good at me.

I then went to do some celebratory/cathartic shopping, an hour after the interview I casually checked my email.

It said this:

“I am writing with regard to your application for Adult Nursing at the University of West London.

I regret to inform you that because of changes to the University’s contract with NHS London, the University will not be able to provide Adult Nursing programmes in London for entry September 2012. Only our Adult Nursing courses in London are affected by this decision.

These changes will mean you will need to reconsider your options. UCAS has advised the University that you will be able to make a new choice but this must be done by 27th January 2012.

We are able to provide the following alternative options:

1) If you have already met the entry criteria, we can fast track your application to enable you to start on the BSc Adult Nursing this Spring (30th January), in either Reading or London.

2) If you are currently at School or College taking examinations this summer, you can change your application to study Adult Nursing at the University’s Reading (Berkshire) campus this Autumn.”

Then I went to the pub.

I should be drunker.

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