I’d saved up for two years in Taiwan to cover my first year in London, not wanting to rely on my mother (with all the repercussions that would go with it should I not do well in my studies: “You have wasted my money!” blah blah).
The excellent advice I’d been given by my then-boyfriend was: “Focus on getting good grades for your ‘A’ levels. Once you get in to university, you are safe for the rest of your course, so you can work part-time then.”
(In those days, there was only the end-of-year exam for Year 1, to confirm that you can indeed last the course — four years in my case. The next exam was at the end of Year 4, so one could work part-time in Year 2 and Year 3 — or enjoy student life, which included [for some] being at the school bar after lectures, before sobering up in the final year.)
So, I had a study plan for my ‘A’ levels. I’d get back from classes around 5pm, eat an early dinner, then go to bed, with the alarm set for midnight. The two TV stations shut down at 11pm in those days, one couldn’t really cook in the middle of the night, so there was nothing else to do but study. I’d go back to bed at 4am, having put in four hours of work (which was worth eight hours, as it was all quiet and I was totally focused), then get up at 8am to get ready to go to class. On some days, I’d study all the way through to 8am, which meant that I’d put in 16 hours of work for the night.
Yes, I got good grades, and yes, I got into a good college (SOAS / School of Oriental and African Studies / University of London) where I had the most enjoyable and productive time, learning lots.
Thank you, Peter, for teaching me such a good strategy. I’m very grateful.
(London, 1977–78)
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