Eskimo Day
A Level Results are out, and Becky's definitely going to Edinburgh Uni. She's delighted, it's the only place she really wanted to go, because the course is perfect for her.
It's going to be hard work. She's reading German, EU Politics and Scandinavian Studies. It fascinates me that both the kids have fallen in love with Nordic countries - Tom always loved Iceland, and Becky developed a taste for Finland on a Scout Camp there some years ago, where they even had to whittle their own tent pegs from the local trees (I kid you not). And this was the young lady who used to greet stunning Lake District viewpoints with the withering words, "Where's the bench?" Not Being With Your Parents makes all the difference.
I think it's fair to say that, some years ago, none of us envisaged one of us going to a Scottish university. From the Uni's point of view, it's a good financial wheeze. The Scottish Parliament are only allowed to charge their own students up to £6,000 a year in teaching fees, but anyone else counts as an overseas student and has to pay considerably more. Hence the good Scottish universities have been recruiting heavily south of the border, and I only hope that Becky doesn't get stale haggis and turnips thrown at her when she arrives. From her moderately sized sixth form alone, 13 girls have been offered places there.
Some things about Scottish universities do differ markedly from the English system. The main one is that courses are generally four years, rather than three, although in Becky's case that's masked by the fact that linguists do an extra year abroad, both north and south of the border. Rather more noticable is that it's a two-semester year rather than three terms, so she goes up on 7th Sept, which is scarily soon, has very short breaks at Xmas and Easter, and could be home for the summer before the end of May. All this adds up to what sounds like a pretty intense, heavy workload, and it's a good job she's so confident socially because I think that might come as a shock to her, particularly having to learn a Scandinavian language from scratch on top of everything else.
So John and I are shortly to face our very own Eskimo Day - child-free life for weeks at a time, for the first time since 1991. We aren't sure if we're excited or terrified. Probably both.
It's going to be hard work. She's reading German, EU Politics and Scandinavian Studies. It fascinates me that both the kids have fallen in love with Nordic countries - Tom always loved Iceland, and Becky developed a taste for Finland on a Scout Camp there some years ago, where they even had to whittle their own tent pegs from the local trees (I kid you not). And this was the young lady who used to greet stunning Lake District viewpoints with the withering words, "Where's the bench?" Not Being With Your Parents makes all the difference.
I think it's fair to say that, some years ago, none of us envisaged one of us going to a Scottish university. From the Uni's point of view, it's a good financial wheeze. The Scottish Parliament are only allowed to charge their own students up to £6,000 a year in teaching fees, but anyone else counts as an overseas student and has to pay considerably more. Hence the good Scottish universities have been recruiting heavily south of the border, and I only hope that Becky doesn't get stale haggis and turnips thrown at her when she arrives. From her moderately sized sixth form alone, 13 girls have been offered places there.
Some things about Scottish universities do differ markedly from the English system. The main one is that courses are generally four years, rather than three, although in Becky's case that's masked by the fact that linguists do an extra year abroad, both north and south of the border. Rather more noticable is that it's a two-semester year rather than three terms, so she goes up on 7th Sept, which is scarily soon, has very short breaks at Xmas and Easter, and could be home for the summer before the end of May. All this adds up to what sounds like a pretty intense, heavy workload, and it's a good job she's so confident socially because I think that might come as a shock to her, particularly having to learn a Scandinavian language from scratch on top of everything else.
So John and I are shortly to face our very own Eskimo Day - child-free life for weeks at a time, for the first time since 1991. We aren't sure if we're excited or terrified. Probably both.