August 17th, 2016

Student Moans

I had perfect reasons to not go any further than BA English.  My reasons were as follows 1) Distance, 2) Age, 3) Additional costs, 4) Health.  Basically, if I was over 70 miles nearer, was 15 years younger, it cost peanuts and I was fighting fit, this would be a no-brainer.

I forget however, the pox on my life which is Student Enrolment and Student Finance, England.

Re Student Enrolment - originally, you would have to be up at a stupid time, travel to Plymouth, spend hours in a queue and spend half your day wondering why they haven't computerised the system.  Now, it's all available via the DLE...BUT....woe betide anyone who fills it out incorrectly.  Sent round in circles, scrutinising tick boxes, pc crashes.  Start again and oh, have you remembered your new password? It will take 15 minutes for the new PW to be sent to your account and another 15 minutes for the computer to comply.

Re Student Finance - this year, it has been a spectacular pain in the arse.  One wrongly-ticked box (first ever, I hasten to add) and you have to ring up the university, get them to confirm that you are not trying to defraud the SFE and that they do indeed owe the uni £4,500.  And the marriage certificate.  And the passport.  And have to fill out paperwork to explain everything.  And an additional covering letter.  I will be phoning them on Friday, to confirm that they have all the working details in the system.  Apparently, they can't change the details - very sticky legal ground here - and once you have cocked it up, you can't go back and sort int out electronically. A*******s!

So, how does that make me feel about rejecting the MA English & Culture?

a) The idea of travelling up to that hellhole is bringing me out in hives and I am not due back for another 6 weeks, b) + c) The thought of trying to pay this loan off, stretching into my grave and beyond just stresses me out.  The idea of ADDING to that, is a definite no-no, d) Hours spent on the phone and I am doubled up, with my tummy churning like a unevenly-loaded washing machine.

Past next May, I don't think I will want to pick up a text book ever again.  When I write again, I want it to be for the love of the story that I am writing.  I want to feel that excitement of writing about characters that I have invested my passion and emotion into, again.  Not hollowly banging on about the writer's intention and the reader's response.  Anyway, rant over - tomorrow, I start on Angela Carter's Nights at the Circus.