Well, this afternoon was a surprise and a half. I pick up my mail from the doorstep… it’s late… again… and I find an odd letter. Odd because it’s handwritten. I don’t usually get handwritten envelopes, outside of birthdays and Christmas.
It’s from the University of East Anglia. I have a brief, wobbly panic because I owe them money, and I haven’t had much of that for over a decade. As I begin to read, I have the feeling that I need to pinch myself, just to make certain that I’m not asleep.
I am fairly convinced that the words on the single page of A4 are claiming that I have won an award… Another one? I was convinced I must be in a strange dream where miraculously good things happen to me.
I read it again. And a third time, just to be certain that I haven’t completely lost my marbles…
“I am pleased to be able to inform you that you have been awarded the Prize for Outstanding Performance by a Creative Entrepreneurship MA Student… The members of the Board of Examiners congratulate you on this achievement… The Prize will also be announced at the Graduation ceremony in July… “
The Prize for Outstanding Performance. It made me giggle. Uncomfortable. Unbelieving. Awkward. It reminds me of one of my most favourite jokes in the world that goes something along the lines of….
I met a farmer once. He was out standing in his field.
It’s definitely my name. Definitely my address. And signed by the Head of the Interdisciplinary Institute of the Humanities.
A bit of discombobulation follows. Emotional. But I don’t cry. It’s just the shock I think… Overwhelming. I do what I always do when I doubt my introverted reality. I confer with the wisdom of social media.
Everyone is full of congrats. I haven’t popped up in an equally bizarre scenario… I am not trapped in an unfamiliar place, running late, only to find that I end up where I began… I am sitting all by myself and I am still wearing all of my clothes, so I am fairly certain that this isn’t a dream.
I pop to the corner shop and buy a bottle of wine, some cheese and a massive bar of 70% chocolate to celebrate. It’s not Paleo, but what the hell? I figure that if I am dreaming, I may as well make the most of it.
