Onward!!

I was nervous as hell walking into my French course proficiency assessment this afternoon. I stood in the quiet office adjoining the test location, completely alone, collecting courage until it was 12:27, three minutes prior to the start of my ten-minute slot. All the sentences and responses I’d thought up in my head over the past few days had vanished by that point, and I can honestly say I felt scared even though there was nothing at stake.

The instructor sat me down next to his colleague and asked me what my name is. I told him, and he clicked around on his computer.

“Quelle nationalité êtez-vous?” was the first question he asked after that, and I realised that this was it and the assessment interview was on.

I told him, and he asked me where I’d learned French. I told him that too, in detail.

“I’m not interested in those countries, I’m interested in French,” he said with a smile on his face. What level had I achieved in my prior studies, he asked next.

I felt I was umm-ing and aah-ing much too much. I didn’t worry about grammar because words just didn’t seem to come out of my mouth.

“Well, based on that I think I am going to recommend you take a level 5 course,” he said after our brief chat.

What. No, seriously. I’d thought a refresher course on advanced grammar (levels 3 or 4) would be what I need.

“Non, vous vous ennuiyez en cours de grammaire.” I’d bore myself in a grammar class. Apparently I don’t make grammatical mistakes, and I should practice using the language. That’s exactly what I wanted, though – I’ve felt uncomfortable opening my mouth to speak in French, not for lack of skill but lack of practice. He took a look at my written test scores from the day before – a mostly multiple-choice test with a few paragraphs of free writing. He said the multiple choice component was “pratiquement 100%” (in reality, 70) and he didn’t even glance at the paragraphs I wrote. So now he’s enrolled me in a course focusing on current affairs that I can get that practice.

I’m still a bit stunned.

(Disclaimer: I have not written any French since finishing high school yonks ago. Despite what the guy says my grammar is probably rusty, so don’t be surprised to see mistakes in the sentences above).

It’s over.

Award sought :	BSc in Environmental Policy
Classification obtained :	First Class Honours
Award date :	31 July 2009

Three years of what was sometimes hard work, sometimes frustrating, and definitely a lot of fun is over. It was actually intensely emotional to give some of my friends last hugs and handshakes. I know I’ll see most of them again, and some of them soon, but things will be different. We are no longer students, and will no longer be meeting day in day out, for random dinners or post-lecture pints-instead-of-reading. I guess there I felt the finality of all this most acutely, with all of us wearing absolutely silly gowns and hats, drinking sparkling wine with our parents in attendance.

The Director’s speech given to us wasn’t the greatest thing in the world. Focusing almost exclusively on new graduates (not) finding jobs, it didn’t give much hope in the future, the way an inspirational leaving speech should. Where were the cliches about lifelong learning, about maturity through immaturity, or about friendships made that last forever? On previous occasions I’ve found Howard Davies‘ speeches to students to be amusing. This one was too, on occasion, but left a sour taste.

I’ve been asked by a few people in the past week whether I thought moving to London was a good idea, and whether I’d be staying. The answer to both is an emphatic yes. I do miss things about Helsinki, I definitely do. I never made good enough use of the fantastic outdoors at the time, but the very existence of them is attractive. I have some amazing friends there, and miss them a lot. What I don’t miss is the smallness of it which, though attractive in the manageability of it all, is stifling in that everyone knows everyone else and it often feels like a small-time club of fitting in.

For my graduation dinner we ended up going to Jamie’s Italian in Kingston, on account of it being recommended and me wanting something special but not stuffy or fussy. In that sense, it was perfect. The food was wonderful (the antipasti especially) and watching the oncoming thunderstorm turn the sky into a rapid-fire dazzle of purple was suitably dramatic to close out the day.

Funny story about me choosing a restaurant: I’d been looking at places and menus of various upmarket London restaurants at work, helped out by some colleagues’ suggestions. Another colleague of mine rocked up and asked me what I was doing. “Looking at nice restaurants to go to for my graduation dinner,” I replied.

“Dude, you’re into all these fancy restaurants,”

“Umm, I’m just looking for a fancy place to go you know, for my graduation. It’s a special place for a special day.”

“I think I’ll just go to Thai Square or something. I like Thai Square.”

This prompted disbelieving laughter from the other colleague present.

I think back to how quickly the past three years have gone and it seems like an eyeblink, but yet I’ve done a lot in the time. There’ll be further things to do before I’m done with this misty isle.

I started writing here over three years ago. I wanted a way to keep in touch with people I knew without writing individual emails, which I know I am bad at. Now, the reason I moved to London is about to come to an end. I find out my University results (i.e. the classification of my degree) tomorrow, Tuesday 14 July. Then, on Thursday, I don the robes and silly hat to shake hands with the director of the School and drink sparkling wine. My mom is flying in to witness it, which is nice. After the ceremonies we’re heading down to try Jamie Oliver’s cooking. I figured it’d be nice to try something special, and since my mom has been a bit of a Jamie fan in the past it seemed appropriate. Also, not too stuffy and formal.

Speaking of formal, I spent about 2 hours going up and down Jermyn Street this afternoon. I really could get into it, given time and money – since I wasn’t absolutely desperate to find a tie (I have one I can wear for graduation but thought a new one would be nice) I could just soak it up and even have some conversations with the gentlemen tending to customers. Having gone in with an idea for a tie I came away as yet empty-handed but with ideas for something to pick up tomorrow morning. Why not leave for tomorrow what you could have made a decision on today?

Now, one more thing. I know that I do have a readership of some kind. I don’t know how regular you visitors are, or when you started following my writings (and how regularly you do it) but I’d like to propose something. I’d like you to post a comment to this entry with what you think has been your favourite entry of the past three-and-a-bit years. Maybe the one you were convinced to start following the blog with, a memorable entry, or one that you think was really funny, or touching even. I do hope that I have managed to invoke some sort of emotions with my writing, so now is the time to put it to the test. You can do it anonymously if you want, I don’t mind. I’d just like to hear from you. Feel free to write in any language I may understand.

You see, I’m about to make some changes. Since I’m no longer going London-ward but have been rather settled here for some time, I feel I need to make a clean break. Drawing up a what’s what of good posts feels like a way to start wrapping things up. I don’t know whether I’ll start completely fresh or what, but each thing runs its course.

A friend of mine, who is at Glastonbury festival, received her university results today through her friend who is in London and checked the notice board that results for their university are posted on. She texted me “A first. I’m shaking.”

I wonder how I’ll feel come results day (the 14th). I have this vague inkling that I have done rather okay and will end up with a first myself, but on the other hand it really does teeter on such a fine line. Up until then things seem to hang in a balance, a kind of limbo where little happens. Of course, I am applying to jobs (though not as madly as the friend mentioned above) but it seems I’m only now recovering from the past term, two weeks on. I’m going to spend a week in Spain thanks to some rather amazing friends (and cheap-as-chips Ryanair flights which I admittedly have not yet secured the funds or paid for) which will be very, very welcome. Sun, pool, grill and chill. What could be better? Maybe then I’ll have a clearer head upon coming back, because I feel being in this limbo isn’t the most productive state of being.

Though I am sincerely looking forward to the break (and I feel I deserve it), I can’t help thinking how beautiful summer back in Finland is. It would be wonderful to get some of that, too, but you can’t have everything. For some reason I’ve been feeling like doing things with my hands, which is as inexplicable as it is new. Mucking about at the family summer cottage would give an opportunity to do a bit of that, though, if only in the form of chopping wood and some general maintenance.

It seems all my friends are dismantling their lives and moving away from London within a matter of days. It’s come so quickly I don’t know exactly how to react. What I do know is that I’ve scored some pretty sweet stuff to kit out my room with. Some are mine on a more permanent basis than others, but they’ll make my life nicer for the period of the summer at least. I feel good being able to take stuff that my friends would otherwise likely have to throw out. It’s a type of charity on their part, of course, for which I’m thankful. Now I will have something to read books by without turning on the ceiling lamp, as well as a radio to listen to in my room. Not to mention a mattress topper that will make my slightly-bumpy bed instantly more comfortable.

In a way I’m keeping bits of my friends’ lives for the time being, until they come back to whatever they may be doing in the UK. And, if they don’t come back, well, those bits of their lives become reused and incorporated into mine. It’s weird but so is this whole situation. A big chunk of my life for three years is about to disperse.