It was a pretty standard procedure when you sign up your teenager for a university open day, they usually specify only one guest allowed. I was brainstorming with my middle teen about her upcoming visit to Bristol. Her friends were all set to reserve their spots, making it clear that this was no fancy soirée. But the question lingered: who exactly did they have in mind as the guest? “They mean a parent. Didn’t you go with your parents?” My response? Oh no, definitely not.
My sister and I used to come up with elaborate excuses for our mum, claiming that one of us had to accompany the other to, let’s say, Newcastle, just in case she needed help navigating the city. We’d then pocket the train fare – which, even back in 1990, was a hefty sum – and spend the day at the Arndale Center in Wandsworth. Occasionally, we’d catch a movie at the cinema. We never splurged on fancy lunches; instead, we devoted a considerable amount of time and money at the Body Shop. The only flaw in our brilliant scheme was the lack of internet back then, leaving us clueless about the actual city we claimed to have visited. Sure, we could have looked it up, but Ordnance Survey maps were a rare find at the Arndale Center.
This was the norm among my circle of friends. Some would boldly take the cash meant for a university open day in Sheffield and venture off to a completely different location just for the thrill. I even had a friend who accidentally ended up in Manchester on the same day as an open day, only to miss seeing the university entirely because she was there for a music gig featuring the Inspiral Carpets. As I shared these escapades with the younger generation in my household, they were genuinely amazed – if only for a brief moment. It was amusing to discover that they were surprised at our ability to deceive others in the pre-internet era.
