I WAS hanging out with a fellow music journo recently and I realised he was storing facts and figures about the industry, and trading useful hair-curling anecdotes about the people therein, while I was more interested in opening up an artiste’s head and sympathising greatly.
The Florence Nightingale of music journalism, if you will.
So I’ve decided to go the whole hog and become a psychology student. I studied psychology for two years in my youth, but was scuppered by the maths. Surely by now, with the wisdom of age, I will be able to do maths.
Our future is in this generation's hands.
The open day is at LaTrobe in Bendigo, so I go along with Lucy, who also wants to interrogate people for a living and then discuss their strange little foibles over lattes. Confidentially, of course. My interest in university first time around was so low that I can’t remember if I went to the open day or not. At the very least, then, this is the first time I’ve been to an open day and paid attention.
For those not in the know, university open days involve lots of free mints, dirt cheap canteen food, professors talking in monotone and various stands. Our stand comes under ‘sciences’ – shudder. Lucy and I go to a lecture for mature students and blanch every time someone says ‘mature’. Better than ‘crone’, I suppose.
Keeper? TBC.
Hey man, now you're really living 
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