An historic day! Or should that be ‘a historic day’ as my northern inclination to drop my aitches always puts an n on the back of the a.
Sorry. There was I on the brink of a… an… the historic moment and I get bushwhacked by grammar. The historic moment in question wasn’t the Ryder Cup win, rather my little dolly waving bye-bye as she went one way towards the students’ union with a couple of new friends while we walked the other to our cars for the trip back over the hills home.
The really historic bit has nothing to do with the above and more so that my dolly is the first of my little tributory of the family to get so grand as to go to uni. Other than Mrs P who has an MA (there I go again) Oxon to her name no less, but then we’re only related by marriage.
Me? Couldn’t hack the A-levels. Parents didn’t have the money. And I had the urge to get out in the world and earn some money. Which I did and have continued to to do so without an ounce of extra-education to fill my sails.
Not that I begrudge my dolly. It seems that some degree is essential for any sort of job success, and my dolly is hopefully on her way.
There has been sobbing on Mrs P’s part who feels that she has lost her ‘little mate’ but somehow I feel like those northern blokes who keep pigeons and I have let one go free, hopefully to return home soon.