We shan’t go to any more general open days now. You can’t travel to every university that
might just be of interest, particularly in my case as the mother of twins.
“It’s really difficult to decide, because Birmingham was in
the rain but Warwick was in the sunshine,” says Carenza.
She’s right – was the student who showed us round Birmingham
actually wearing flippers or is my memory playing tricks? At Warwick, however, the
sun warmed us as a butterfly wafted past.
“Do you think open days actually make it harder?” asks
Perran.
I don’t answer at once.
It’s true that lists of course modules and photos of accommodation are
all on the web now. Isn’t an open day
really something of a show? Sometimes
passing a locked door in a department, I have heard a muffled sound from within
and wondered whether that is where they have incarcerated the more shambling
members of staff, lured away from manning the displays by the promise of
chocolate hob-nobs.
On the other hand, when you visit, you do get a feeling for
that indefinable quality that the internet cannot convey.
“Which one felt more like home to you,” I ask, “Birmingham
or Warwick?”
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