Relief was probably the first emotion which I experienced, quickly followed by shock and then nothing more than pure and utter excitement. I am not even sure that now, almost a week on, that it has sunk in yet.
Pinch me now, I am going to be a journalist.
Of course, it was typical of my luck that my first choice of university were the last people to give me an offer.
My interview took place at the end of January. The Undergraduate lecturer who conducted my face-to-face interview warned me that I would have to wait for March until I knew if I was in or not.
The first of March came, and then second, and then the third, and so on, until I had received offers from every other university which I applied to, except from Caley. I had almost lost all hope until, unusually, I received the e-mail from UCAS telling me that something on my Application Tracker had changed and to check my offers.
The people in my Modern Studies class were slightly concerned when I suddenly burst out into a fit of tears in the middle of our double period. After I ran out of the classroom and screamed down the phone to my mum “I AM IN!”
I feel like the waiting game did not just last three months, but almost three years. My dream began at the end of third year and was confirmed during my work experience in the middle of fourth year and now I can finally say that it is going to become a reality in September.
“There is an absolute maximum,” said my interviewer, “of 25 students which will be enrolled in this course. You are, currently, one of 100.” From hundreds of applicants, down to 100, and now one of 25.
I have never been so proud to say anything in my life before: I am going to be a journalist, finally.