A Life in the Day of....

19-year-old Joe Robinson had always enjoyed his life as a student, despite his problem of actually getting up. If not sat in front of a computer writing essays, chatting on MSN, or fighting barbarians, Joe would also be found in the common room reading a book, or 'philosophising' with his friends. Joe is currently studying for a Journalism Degree at Bournemouth University.

I’m not really a “morning” person, never was. I would get woken up by my alarm, have a few blissful seconds before I realised what was going on, and then fall back asleep to the echoes of “5 more minutes”. It would then be half an hour later and I would be running late - crap. So, amidst cursing God and my alarm for not doing anything, I would speed-dress myself, grab my bag and be out of the door before you could do the Macarena.
The walk to school would always be pleasant. It would just be me, my music, and the path. Walking is one of the few things that I actually like doing alone; the solitude can be very relaxing, even if the scenery is just the borough you live in. I keep a brisk pace, since I dislike hanging around if I’m going from A to B, so 20 minutes later I would find myself striding through the gates of school, forming an apology to my tutor for being late. It’s the space-time continuum miss, honest.
School itself was always good, and I worked hard when need be. I’ve always liked school. The learning part anyway, socially I was mainly a bit of a misfit, often bullied in what I refer to as the “black years”, and still a bit weary of people by the time I hit sixth form, but I found good friends. I really enjoyed my subjects in sixth form; Philosophy was one of my favourites. Arguing back and forth on a point could be fun, especially if you pissed of a particular classmate in the process. We would always have the best arguments.
First break would be at 11:15, so straight down to the near-by garage for a sausage bap, The Guardian, and a bottle of Dr. Pepper, what’s the worst that could happen? Back in the day we would normally organise football matches in our breaks, but then they shortened them, so instead we spent our time up in the common room, relaxing, conversing, and loosely acting like the adults we were expected to be.
In my final year of 6th form, I only had about 2/3 lessons a day tops, so that would mean free periods. Usually I would spend these in the common room, reading a book, unless I had work to do. I love reading, always have. It’s the stories. I love the way they’re told, the way they’re written, the way the author tries to connect with the readers, and the big battle scene at the end.
When school was over I would walk home, sometimes with a friend who lives on the way, sometimes not, either way I would soon find myself back home. Once through the door, I would always surgically implant myself in front of my PC, and not move until it was dinner - I liked my PC. I play my favourite computer games on the PC. My PC is also an essential link to what I call my ‘Social life’, spelt M.S.N. MSN is great, without it I wouldn’t be able to talk to the people I had seen only hours before, or the people who I don’t often get to see. At some point my family would come home, and provided I wasn’t engrossed in defeating a barbarian horde on the shores of Asia Minor, they would get a short grunt by way of hello, and then that would generally be it until we met at dinner.
Usually we would just eat the food where we like, or in the front room watching TV, but sometimes my mum would use the big table in the dining room, where we would sit, eat, talk about our respective days, and so on. I love my family; I probably wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for them. After dinner it would be back to the hordes, unless I got bored, then it would be MSN until I went to bed. At some point I might try to do some work, but it rarely went well, I get distracted too easily. I’m a bit of a ‘last-minute’ kind of guy anyway.
I would generally try to be in bed by about 11, since I would have had school or work the next day, although half an hours reading was always a tradition. The morning would bring a new day, which I would vaguely acknowledge as I rushed out the door, late again.

‘I would get woken up by my alarm, have a few blissful seconds before I realised what was going on, and then fall back asleep to the echoes of “5 more minutes”.’