Journalist, mother and MA student Elizabeth McFarlane is anecdotal and nostalgic upon returning to university.
I'm a student again after 30 years and can't believe my luck. I stroll round the campus feeling twenty years younger, half expecting someone to tap me on the shoulder and ask me to leave. But I'm allowed here, incredibly, to do an MA in Creative and Life Writing. The last time I was on a campus I was wearing leg warmers, Kylie Minogue was singing I Should Be So Lucky (Lucky, Lucky, Lucky) and Maggie Thatcher was having a barney with some miners, unluckily for them.
On my first day I line up in the main building to register and there's an 18-year-old boy behind me not dissimilar to the one I have who is registering at another university in another part of the country. How weird is that? There are three of us in this family at university at the same time. We could start our own Soc. If we weren't hundreds of miles apart.
"What documents do we need?" the boy asks me.
"Well," I say, "I have my degree certificate, but