Have you ever wondered what it’s like trying to re-build your life in London when you’re drowning in post graduate debt? Of course, I can’t speak for everyone, but I can provide a glimpse of what it’s been like for me. Take this evening for example, I’ve just done a 30 mile, 3 hour round trip after work so that I could get an extra 20 quid in my pocket and as you can imagine, that laborious journey gave me plenty of time to sit and mull over my circumstances. The only way I can describe it is by likening post grad life to that scene in The Shawshank Redemption, where you discover that Andy Dufresne has been chipping away at his secret tunnel from his cell. Just, bear with me…
Day after day, year after year, you wake up in your little rented room and quietly and determinedly scratch away at the wall of opportunity with your little tiny rock hammer, dragging your limp, tired body through tunnel after tunnel of shit, with nothing but the faint glimmer of hope of a better life to keep you going.
Only, you didn’t realise how bad the shit would smell, it’s starting to burn your eyes and every time you try to come up for air, you hit your head off the steel pipe and it knocks you back down again. You think about turning back, or changing direction, but you can’t, because there are a thousand other people crawling up the same shit tunnel behind you. So you get your head down, hold your breath and keep on going, praying to God that when you do get to the other side, you’ll still be young enough to enjoy your life, house prices won’t have tripled again – and all of your family isn’t already dead.
That’s my Zihuatanejo.
Sure, I might be being a tad melodramatic, and some of you are probably wishing you hadn’t accepted the invite to my little pity party – a few of you might even be wondering if I’m on the “blob”. Well, I’m not, and you should watch your mouth, because i’m the one that’s holding a rock hammer, remember.
God that felt good.
As you were.