December 27, 2015, by Gemma Coleman
Please don’t make me graduate
I have decided to run away and become a milkmaid. Preferably somewhere near Toulouse or Carcassonne, but I’m not too picky to be honest – wherever a cow needs me, I’ll be there. Whenever I have a big decision to make, the fantasy of becoming a modern day Tess of the D’Ubervilles resurfaces (conveniently forgetting about the poverty and tragic death – minor details) before someone reminds me that machines can now milk cows or that I have no experience, practical or theoretical, with the bovine family. Well thanks for the support guys.
It’s fair to say that my approach to accepting that I am soon to be entering my final semester of university has been somewhat minimal. A little blasé. If you don’t apply, you can’t be rejected (NB kids, this is not good advice). I can’t wait to wear the cap and gown, buy a new dress, don the nude shoes and take a million and one photos of me posing across campus. The responsibilities, lack of student loan and moving away from all my Nottingham friends, though, is significantly less appealing. Maybe I could just become Peter Pan, idk.
Thinking about it more seriously, a year out seems to be the best option for me to give myself a little bit more time to think about what I really want to do and let’s face it, put off the impending doom that is real life. After a semester abroad in Europe, the travel bug has well and truly bitten me, and Teaching English as a Foreign Language (TEFL) seems like both a constructive use of my time and a lot of fun.
For now, juggling my degree and making the most of my last few months in Nottingham will be my priority. And then maybe I’ll invest in a bonnet, just in case there is suddenly a call for milkmaids in the South of France – you never know.
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