University was a strange experience for me. I had only a hazy idea of what to expect when I went there.
There was the rather nervous experience of being interviewed by a group of strangers; it was surprising I was accepted after the halting, nervous answers I gave and discussion of my patchwork portfolio but anyway it happened.
I rolled up for the Freshers Week, listened to the Vice-Chancellor’s strictures about not wasting time, refraining from scribbling in library books or dropping litter but at the same time not to creep timidly around the premises. There was plenty of raucous, beer fuelled orgies that I witnessed but was too cautious to get involved in.
There was the problem of cliques as often happens in Art schools and I never really fitted into any of them. I was in a clique of one most of the time, then drifted out of college frantically looking for options.
I managed to create some work that I quite liked and some people agreed with me, but after that came the reality check when I met people who valued reliability more than creativity and payed minimal wages in return. It helped if you wee streetwise, which sadly I wasn’t in those days. It was simply a matter of living one day at a time, keeping my eyes open and hoping; most of my contemporaries did the same and hope for the best. As good a game plan as any.