On Monday I reached another milestone in my life as I took what will hopefully be my last ever trip to Hull, in order to clear the last few bits out of my student house. I’ve driven up the M62 more times than I care to remember and could probably name every road sign from memory but it was a surreal feeling knowing that this was more than likely my last ever time doing so as a student at the University of Hull. As sad as it made seem, I won’t miss it at all. The city is a cesspit, I’ve already lost contact with most of the friends I made there and I barely even went to University so I highly doubt I’ll be pining for a dingy lecture hall anytime soon. It was a remarkably unemotional experience and as I locked the front door for my final time, I didn’t feel a thing. My time in Hull has taught me so much about myself and I’m a much better person now than I was in September 2017, but fuck me I’m so glad to be out of that shit hole. The one person I will probably miss is Dave, my manager at William Hill. We got on well as we had common interests (crippling credit card debt & gambling addictions) and my shifts with him were often the highlight of my week. I think the fact that the person I’ll miss most is my boss from work tells you everything you need to know about my experience in Hull. 

My very good friend Mr Adam Griffiths-Vernon sent me a monologue on Tuesday morning from a play he’s been reading and, as he suggested it would, it really resonated with me (he took great pleasure in being proven right). It got me thinking about how eagerly dismissive I was of drama when I was younger. I now realise that, in a misjudged effort to ensure my sexuality did not define me, I rather hastily ruled out any exploration of my creative side in an attempt to fit in and appear ‘normal’. The more I think about this, the more I bitterly regret it. I don’t blame my younger self for decisions I made as most people just wanted to fit in at that age, yet I can’t help but wonder how different I might have been as a person if I’d allowed myself the opportunity to explore a potential interest in the arts. I always remember my drama teachers imploring me to be more open to the idea but my overwhelming desire to maintain my supposed sense of social acceptance always got in the way. Who knows, I might have hated drama even if I had put effort into it, but it’s a real shame that I never had the courage to give it a try. 

I know you will all have been wallowing in suspense so I’m happy to announce that the University of Nottingham have offered me a place on the Creative Writing MA course next year. Naturally I’m thrilled and I’m almost certain this is the option I’ll be choosing, but I’m now considering whether it might be best to defer a year. It seems more than likely that, in the current circumstances, teaching will be moved online for at least the first semester of the next academic year and I’m not sure I want to pay £8,000 to sit and have lectures in my bedroom over Zoom. I’m also in absolutely no rush to leave education and attempt to start a career anytime soon considering the predicted state of the economy over the next few years. I don’t have to make a decision straight away so it’s not something I’m stressed about, but I imagine it will be weighing on my mind a lot over the next few weeks. Anyway, many of you have already offered your congratulations and I am eternally grateful as usual – thank you for your continued support. 

I hope my writing isn’t becoming as monotonous as this lockdown is. Stay safe.