Me Life Story by Scarlett Moffatt (pdf e book reader .TXT) 📕

education and sports coaching degree and I started in January. Now one thing I lack is common sense and you would have thought I would have got the memo about going to the first lecture in sportswear but sadly I didn’t. I rocked up with pillarbox red hair, false eyelashes and a leopard print maxi-dress on.

I sat on the wooden benches of the lecture hall and looked around at the people I was going to be spending the next three years with. Yep, I was the only one not wearing Jack Wills or a tracksuit. But unlike school I instantly had a positive feeling about my time at York St John’s. I wanted to embrace every aspect of being a student. From doing all-nighters in the library, to eating nothing but nine-pence Super Noodles, to being involved with a society and of course Freshers’ Week.

I loved all the placements, which involved going into schools and teaching dance and gymnastics, and I sometimes brought drama into the sessions to help build the children’s confidence up. I even spent one of my summers off in America. It was a placement scheme and I was put in a camp in Pennsylvania where I taught children aged four to sixteen with special educational needs. Even though this was nearly seven years ago I still speak to one of the mothers on Facebook to check how little Andrew is doing. It was so rewarding. However, as time went on I realised being a teacher was swamped with paperwork and bureaucracy, from planning and marking to going to safeguarding lectures. I have friends who are teachers and honestly they do such an amazing job. People just see it as a nine-to-three job with lots of holidays. It is so much more than that.

I actually went to the doctor at one point because my wrist felt like it was going to drop off I had done that many lesson plans, but it turns out it was just writer’s cramp. Something kids these days don’t understand. My lecturer would insist we all handwrite our plans and take notes during lectures but would give you 0.5 seconds to write them down. I’ll be honest, a lot of the time I didn’t have a clue what was going on and just filled my essays with big words like ‘subsequently’, ‘nevertheless’ and – my personal favourite – ‘simultaneously’, so that it looked like I knew what I was talking about. Still can’t believe I thought I’d actually sprained my wrist. That is my second most embarrassing trip to the doctor; the first was the time I woke up after a night out and thought I was vomiting blood as my sick was red. Turns out I had forgotten about the five red Aftershocks I had downed.

Speaking of drinking, being a proper kid’s belly has been a repeated pattern throughout my life and it is now the reason why I don’t actually drink that much. I literally cannot handle my drink. How I managed to go out every single night of the week when I was a student (apart from Sundays, I mean don’t judge me, even God needed a day to recover), I do not know. I think because I quit dancing to focus on my studies I had a void that needed filling. I got thinking about what I could fill it with. ‘Vodka. That’s going to be my new hobby.’

Me and my girls had it all planned out. Our week went like this:

Mondays were Gallery nights, normally a theme like ‘Where’s Wally?’ or ‘dress as an animal’.

Tuesdays were Revolution nights. We knew not to wear high heels on these nights; there were cheap paddle boards of shots and all the R&B music you needed to grind your ass off.

Wednesdays were sport society nights at Tokyo, so that’s when we hung out with all of the hockey team.

Thursdays: those were Student Union and Salvation nights.

Fridays we’d order a takeaway and just have a little drink in the house.

Saturdays I would go home to see the family and then catch up with the girls from home or my boyfriend at the time for a little night out.

Sunday would be a family day and time to travel back to York. AND REPEAT.

I somehow fitted in studying and getting a 2:1 BA Honours, having part-time jobs throughout the whole of my time being a student and also being in the hockey society team. I now struggle in life to find time to fit in basic hygiene and keep up to date with social media, so I do not know how I managed.

Some of the best times of my life were made at university and a lot of the greatest moments were made with my uni girls, Sarah, Zoe, Jess and Siân.

Sarah is one of my oldest friends: I went to primary school, secondary school and college with her. We became really good friends at college and decided to pick the same university and live together there. I had the honour of being bridesmaid at her and her hubby Michael’s beautiful wedding and am godmother to their first child, Jacob. She is my best friend, what I call my ‘forever friend’. She is the most caring individual you will ever meet. She was like the sister of the group.

Zoe is the most similar to me in personality and the wild child of the group. She is my bad influence friend. We all have one. Everybody fancied Zoe; she is quirky, fun and always wore leopard print or tartan. (I will be attending her and Ricky’s wedding this year – we have all grown up so much.)

Jess was the mother of the group. When you needed a shoulder to cry on Jess was our surrogate mam. If a lightbulb needed changing or we needed a spring clean we would all turn to Jess. She would make actual lasagnes from scratch and make wholesome meals for the