I was very excited!

On Instagram today, a friend shared two photos of herself, at eighteen and as she looks now. It was lovely to see her happy, cheeky smile, her engaging expression with a sense of suppressed excitement. In turn I shared a picture of me at eighteen (my featured image today) but for some reason couldn’t manage to also add a side by side picture of me now.

The image I shared was from a photo I took in a photo booth on the first day I went to Manchester to start my student life. I needed it for the college records or something, the college being Manchester Polytechnic Faculty of Humanities, still called at that time, the College of Commerce. I hadn’t done as well as I’d hoped at A-level, had not found a place at any university, had rejected an offer of a place at a teacher training college in Derbyshire as I didn’t want to be a teacher (funny how life turns out!) and had luckily been offered a place at the Poly.

I was very excited, as you can see from the photo. I didn’t know Manchester at all, apart from having spent a weekend on a sixth form course at the University, which I’d loved. However, the thought of doing a degree, in subjects I enjoyed, of being a student, of being independent, was thrilling. I had a boyfriend at the time, a young German from Kiel who was at Uni in Heidelberg. Our only way of communicating was writing to each other. Sadly, but unsurprisingly, our relationship faltered after a year, but I had made a great group of pals, some of whom remain close for many years, and one who is still a dear friend now.

https://chorltonhistory.blogspot.com/2016/02/student-days-take-2-circa-1972-story.html

So here I am, brimming with excitement and anticipation – and to be honest, although as with everyone there has been heart ache and heartbreak, bitter disappointment, and crushing failures – I have been so fortunate, so lucky. Manchester brought me excitement, adventure, friends, interesting jobs including working in a pickled onion factory and working at Manchester Airport and eventually becoming a teacher. Manchester opened the north of England to me. When I moved away, it wasn’t very far – to Oldham, I was eventually asked out by a bloke I wasn’t the least interested in but he promised a decent pub… and thirty odd years (very odd years) two beautiful children, much beer and much happiness with him, I have to accept that my eighteen-year old self’s anticipation of great and wonderful things was fulfilled!