My day at Manchester Met (well, not my day really)...

Excuse my enthusiasm, I'm not used to it either, but Manchester Metropolitan University is such a great place.

I’m sure that this type of thing didn’t exist when I was of the age. In fact I know it didn’t. Back then educational establishments weren’t as focussed as they seem to be today. They were more homespun, a little more like the next stage of education. What you would expect them to be really. Oh I’m not saying I didn’t have fun, but I could almost feel the excitement and electricity as it hummed around campus today. Even I believed anything was possible in a place like that and I’ve been dealing normality and humdrum for most of my life.

What was I doing there? Well, unfortunately for me nothing that involved me ‘hands on’ as they say. But I was there as a ‘tagger on’ as my daughter had a look around. She’s decided to do English and creative writing (HurraH! Double ‘H’ intended) and Manchester Met seemed to be one of the places to do it. Now I’m easily pleased but it didn’t take much to convince me that MM was a really great place to study and it seems that my daughter did too. I think that a decision has been reached.

How I envy her that challenge. No, not envy, I’m jealous as hell and at one point seriously found myself considering impersonating her and turning up in September in her (much disguised) place. Of course, it wouldn’t have worked. After all, it’s not like I could really lock her up in the cellar for three years.

Could I?

No, of course I couldn’t.

Sure?

Yes. You know she’d escape.

Shame.

So I sat through the very interesting lecture and then joined in with the writing workshop. I won’t tell you too much about the workshop but suffice it to say I found myself enthralled. But more of that and why I’ve posted this painting to illustrate my ramblings another day. Today was not about me. Well almost not. What was it Frank Sinatra sang: ‘Regrets I’ve had a few’? Well, I’ve had a few and a few more and a few more after that, and today only rubbed salt in the wound, twisted the knife, kicked a man when he was down.

Yes… I could have been a contender! If only I’d have:-

a) known

b) tried

c) been encouraged

d) got off my arse and made it happen.

Is it too late I wonder? And as that same old voice, the one that has always crushed my hopes and stolen my dreams, answers ‘yes’ I’ll sign off.