Apparently Pembroke College, Cambridge, aren't quite as keen on me as I once hoped they might be, and have decided they'd actually not like to let me in at all, thankyou very much. However, they did think me worthy of being placed into the 'pool', which seems tome to be some kind of big scrapheap of applicants' files, piled up in some darkened room at the end of a damp corridor deep in the bowls of Cambridge, where the other colleges can pick and choose over those that are left, looking for tasty tasty academic left overs.
(For those a little confused by how the whole Cambridge application process works, it goes a little something like this; as Cambridge is made up of around 30 or so individual colleges, you don't just apply for a subject, you apply to do a subject at a particular college. Your chosen college then get to accept you or deny you straight off or, as in my case, place you in the pool to be 'fished' by other colleges as they please. Pembroke was my choice, but I, sadly, was not theirs...)
After the building tension in the run up to recieving my offer/rejection letter, I read that I had been pooled with a sense of deflated disappointment. Not because I hadn't recieved an offer (I haven't ever realistically expected to get in), but more because I'd have to wait even longer for this whole thing to be resolved.
According to my letter, I should find out within the next couple of days what my fate will be, for better or for worse. Two of my friends who had been similarly pooled have now been 'fished' (and rightly so), so my chance at the moment are looking pretty slim, but by narrowly missing out, at least I know I wasn't entirely stupid in applying to Cambridge as some people thought I was. Not quite the large 'FUCK YOU' to those that laughed at me as an offer would have been, but some consolation none the less...
Interruption complete.
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