Well, after all that jazz with the café, I was kind of put off the idea of getting a job and did without until leaving school which was only about a year or even less after that café job. I wasn’t really bothered by this lack of employment; - my mum provided the roof over my head and the clothes on my back and I figured at the time, that’s all I really needed. Well, that and the occasional scrap of food to eat! I had no interest in spending monies on all that glitters or fashionable clothing that I wouldn’t even feel comfortable in, I didn’t feel the need to have the latest expensive gadget. In short, I didn’t want for anything at that age; trust me – I was grateful I even had the roof.

Man, did I have plans for after school. Yes actually I did; I was gonna go to uni. My grades weren’t that awesome because I just refused to apply myself, not out of spite or laziness or lack of ability; they were poor simply because during my study periods I’d prefer to read books than study. Damn those brilliant authors, they just wouldn’t let me go. Why on earth did I see that as a better use of my time? Still, I made up for it most days by studying for a few hours between the end of school and the beginning of supper and at weekends. This seemed to work, a bit. I managed to pass my exams but not with flying colours – they were more murky and various shades of grey but I digress. My grades were not the worst ever but they were far from brilliant which disappointed me because I knew I could have done much better if I had focused my attention. Also; kids, try to concentrate more on your studies than on an adolescent relationship :p

Anyhoos, the thing to do after getting your grades is to apply for university. Which I did. I managed to get a place at my local university but there was one condition – I had to attend four weeks of summer school just to prove to them that I was indeed smart and not a waster. This really didn’t bother me, spending some time at summer school, and it was to be held at the uni so I figured I could scope the place out before attending my course in the autumn.

So, I made up my mind to enjoy the first couple of weeks of summer that I had to myself. I would do the usual things; hang out with my buddies, read, roller blade, go to the flicks and generally amuse myself. My main mode of transport was my bike – the two-wheeled and no-motor kind of bike.
I woke up one day and figured I’d go visit my buddy to see what she was up to – she only lived a five minute walk away from my house but it turned into a one minute journey if I took my bicycle. It was a fantastically sunny day – I mean, it was glorious - and it felt like the rest of my life was just beginning and the journey (of life, not to my friend’s house) didn’t seem daunting at all.
Well, after that day of our usual summer adventure, I left my friend’s house to head home. What awaited me that evening was the catalyst (I reckon) for the rest of my life and I did not like the atmosphere surrounding it, although nobody else seemed to notice it.

I got in the door and was confronted by my mum and step-dad (no, he’s not evil or anything like that – he’s just a regular dude). They wanted to know why the garage door was unlocked when they got home from work that evening.
“Oh,” thought I. “Is that what this niggling atmosphere is about?” I didn’t think it was that big a deal; I explained to them that I didn’t have a garage key and had to go through the door that leads to the garage from the kitchen in order to open the garage door and to get my bike out. I then closed the garage door and rode off to my friend’s house. I had set the house alarm and thought that that was me being responsible.

In retrospect, I should have just taken my bike from the garage (without ever opening that damned garage door) and through the house. At the time, I figured I would have been yelled at for tracking dirty, greasy bike tyres through the house – I chose the lesser of two evils and all that.

Anyhoos, I had indeed left the garage door unlocked. We lived in a really good, family neighbourhood, with low crime rates and we had a really intimidating security alarm; - I figured the house was safe enough. But apparently not.

I didn’t get yelled at as that’s rarely my mum’s way of dealing with things but just as bad – I got the whole, quiet “we’re-really-disappointed-in-you-and-your-lack-of-responsibility” which really gets to me more than being yelled at. I also got the “you can’t be trusted to stay in the house yourself”. This almost destroyed me; I knew exactly what was coming next. “We just can’t take the chance that you’ll do it again.” No, no, no, no; don’t say it. “You’ll have to come on holiday with us.”

After I had recovered my jaw from the floor, I tried to make a coherent sentence about how I would miss half of my summer school course. Of course, my doting mother had complete faith in me then, believing that I could catch up no problem and would be able to do the four week’s work in just under two weeks. Seriously, I was trying so hard to come up with all the excuses why I couldn’t go with them on holiday that I sort of just blurted out a whole heap of nonsense, which did not help my case.

I spent the next two weeks trying to convince my mother that I should be allowed to stay in the house myself. To no avail. I couldn’t believe it, still can’t really.

In the end, I went on holiday with my family, I hated every single second of it and still resent them just a tiny smidgen to this day; I was unable to go to summer school; the place went to somebody who could actually attend and I was left with no higher education. It’s a strange story and I still get looks of disbelief when I can be bothered to tell it.

Looking back now, however, I’m not too sure about how practical a degree in ancient history and philosophy would have been…