The story so far…
On the Twenty sixth of January, 1981, Nicholas Avenell, later to be better known as Aquarion, arrived mewling and puking into this vale of tears. He breezed though primary and secondary school with average grades, and then struck an academic brick wall when he failed his A-Levels (not totally, but badly enough for his world to come crashing down around his ears).
After wrestling a place at Sunderland University (“I failed, will you still take me?” “Yeah, Ok”) he breezed though the first year of his HND without engaging real thought to it, planning on doing the year before transfering somewhere else. After a results day and several E-mails to other universities, he became thoughrally disillusioned with the University system (as he had of the Secondary School system a year earlier) as well as losing any faith that remained in himself. During this time he failed to do anything at all, his website became cobwebed, his stories and poems abandoned.
At the end of August, he found friendship and compainions online, who trusted him, and whom he trusted. After a while he was dragged out of depression by the scruff of his neck and resigned himself to going back to Sunderland.
Then he went on holiday for two weeks.
Of the mistakes to make, this may be one of the worst. By the time he started looking for houses in Sunderland, term started in less than two weeks. Several phone calls and rejections issued, but one came though. Almost a week after his first phone call, he recieved a return from a landlord who had a flat going spare. A flurry of messages and missed answerphone messages resulted in finally securing the flat exactly 14 hours before term started on the monday morning.
While this was going on, complications in the online world had arisen, and he was too caught up in his own problems to attempt to sort them out. Bickering, arguements, and recriminations were flying, and he was forced to abandon, on a temporary basis, the closest thing to a “Home Channel” he had, or else risk leaving permenantly. He left silently, but not without remorce, regreting that he was abandoning one to one conversation with many of his friends purely because of an argument he didn’t start.
Finally, he signed the cheques and the contracts for his new flat. Only to discover that he would have to wait for the cheque to clear. A process that may take days. Days when he has to rely on his flatmates generocity to keep him of the streets.
Currenly homeless, and sleeping on friends sofas while he trys to sort his online, and offline, lives out, Aquarion resolves to put his diary back into it’s former glory with daily updates.
If he can.