Diary of a journalism post-grad, chapter nine

NEARLY there. So very nearly there. And just as well, I’m not sure how much longer I can stare at a computer screen. Today is the day I finally hand in my patch report. All 40 pages of it (so long as the printers decide to co-operate for once). I can’t wait – it has taken over my week.

Spent most of last night agonising over hyphens and capital letters. I’ve re-written some stories so many times even I don’t know if they’re accurate any more. Only joking…

Scarily enough, today is also the end of term. I can’t get over how quickly it’s disappeared. It’s going to be weird – I see my classmates Monday to Friday, about eight hours a day, but we’re now off for seven weeks.

We have to do four weeks work experience (just in case you thought I was getting an easy ride) and everyone is going to be so far flung, it’ll be strange not to see them around. I think an end-of-term bonding and drinking session is long overdue. A pub crawl from the university up the Northern Line has been suggested, but, usually, we don’t get much further than the place over the road.

My first birthday in London last weekend was really good. Was worried I wouldn’t be able to get work off my mind – I shouldn’t have been so concerned.

About 20 of us took over a fish and chip restaurant down the road from my flat and then headed on to a bar. A few cocktails and a bit of impromptu dancing later – I’m still not sure that was meant to be a dancefloor – and I was a suitably merry birthday girl.

I didn’t feel so merry the next morning, but with some gentle cajoling and few slices of bread forced down I made it home to my parents. Really nice to have an old-fashioned family birthday.

So, that wrote off my weekend, and the rest of the week I’ve been hard at work. For some light relief, we took a trip to the coroner’s court today – I’m slightly worried that I’m building up a penchant for court reporting.

Hope that doesn’t make me too morbid.

See you next year.

Laura x