anything.
"I don't know any of you. Can we do a quick around the table. Tell me who you are and a little about your final year project."
The students glanced nervously at each other to see who would speak first.
"What's your name?" Gavin said to the girl beside him on his left.
"I'm Rachel, Rachel L Boyd. My final year project is on the development of movement skills for netball. I'm working with a local school team. I have a national level two coaching qualification for netball. I want to coach netball professionally when I graduate," she said confidently.
Rachel was twenty-one, fresh-faced and lightly freckled with shoulder length auburn hair tied back in a high ponytail. She wore a blue tracksuit with a netball logo top over a white polo tee shirt. She had a big smile full of attractive teeth that had been shaped by a skilled orthodontist.
"Thanks Rachel."
Gavin leaned forward and looked at the woman sitting next to Rachel.
"Laraine E McSwann, mature student, obviously. My project is library-based and is on the critical importance of sport in a developing society. I'm a health and lifestyle coach. I specialise in organic massage, Thai herbal and thermal basalt," she said and the strain in her voice suggested she felt self-conscious.
"That's fine Laraine."
Laraine was thirty-four and a petite five foot four natural blonde. She was thin-faced with a slight build. Her tight-fitting clothes made her look even thinner, almost anorexic. She fidgeted impatiently with her pencil. Her six-year old daughter was off school with a cold and her neighbour agreed to look after her for an hour and that was two hours ago.
"Ronnie O DaSilvon. I'm boxing, light welterweight, man. Aiming for middleweight by next spring. I'm welterweight ABA elite champion y'know. My project's on protein nutrition and I hear you're a biochemical expert so I'll be calling round for some guidance on my proteins," he said and offered his clenched fist for Shawlens to fist bump.
Ronnie was twenty-two, born in London and his Brazilian parents still live in Bayswater, London. An area more popularly known as Brazilwater. Gavin guessed that Ronnie would be at least six feet three inches tall and not someone you would want to get on the wrong side of so he dutifully completed the fist bump.
"Tyler B Wattsin. My project aint going like, it's stuck. Totally like, is he right? You're a biochemical dude."
Gavin acknowledged with a nod and a smile.
"Cool!" Tyler enthused.
Tyler was twenty-nine, five feet five with shoulder length, untidy and dark greasy hair. Overweight with a prominent round face underlined by a double chin and matched with puffy sausage-like fingers. He filled out a dark blue 1980's style fashion shell suit that was grubby and stained.
"Thanks ..., erm ..., Tyler. Tyler Wattsin for some reason you're not on this tutorial list," Gavin said looking at the tutorial group printout he'd been given.
"Yeah I'm like, really stressed bout it man. Your registry people are incom.., incomptat.., incompatatent. Keep messin me about. All fees owed are like paid, honest man, it's like, totally done," Tyler explained.
"Okay sometimes the finance office forgets to update the registry office. No problem."
"Cool, man you're like, okay."
Tyler didn't explain that in the previous academic year his registration had been suspended by the University when a criminal records office check disclosed convictions that would not allow him to work with young or vulnerable people.
He failed the one exam he took and his registration had lapsed. He was a non-student in the system and he refused to take the hint and go away. He'd gain entrance through a special access programme for mature disadvantaged people and failed to take advantage of the opportunity.
"I'ss Francis A Ottobondi, track an' feel'd. Takes a good look at ma face, man. Am gonna be de woomen Usain Bolt. I gonna take de woomens 'undred meetres well below tin-point-three secunds at de next worrld champs.
"I don't know any of you. Can we do a quick around the table. Tell me who you are and a little about your final year project."
The students glanced nervously at each other to see who would speak first.
"What's your name?" Gavin said to the girl beside him on his left.
"I'm Rachel, Rachel L Boyd. My final year project is on the development of movement skills for netball. I'm working with a local school team. I have a national level two coaching qualification for netball. I want to coach netball professionally when I graduate," she said confidently.
Rachel was twenty-one, fresh-faced and lightly freckled with shoulder length auburn hair tied back in a high ponytail. She wore a blue tracksuit with a netball logo top over a white polo tee shirt. She had a big smile full of attractive teeth that had been shaped by a skilled orthodontist.
"Thanks Rachel."
Gavin leaned forward and looked at the woman sitting next to Rachel.
"Laraine E McSwann, mature student, obviously. My project is library-based and is on the critical importance of sport in a developing society. I'm a health and lifestyle coach. I specialise in organic massage, Thai herbal and thermal basalt," she said and the strain in her voice suggested she felt self-conscious.
"That's fine Laraine."
Laraine was thirty-four and a petite five foot four natural blonde. She was thin-faced with a slight build. Her tight-fitting clothes made her look even thinner, almost anorexic. She fidgeted impatiently with her pencil. Her six-year old daughter was off school with a cold and her neighbour agreed to look after her for an hour and that was two hours ago.
"Ronnie O DaSilvon. I'm boxing, light welterweight, man. Aiming for middleweight by next spring. I'm welterweight ABA elite champion y'know. My project's on protein nutrition and I hear you're a biochemical expert so I'll be calling round for some guidance on my proteins," he said and offered his clenched fist for Shawlens to fist bump.
Ronnie was twenty-two, born in London and his Brazilian parents still live in Bayswater, London. An area more popularly known as Brazilwater. Gavin guessed that Ronnie would be at least six feet three inches tall and not someone you would want to get on the wrong side of so he dutifully completed the fist bump.
"Tyler B Wattsin. My project aint going like, it's stuck. Totally like, is he right? You're a biochemical dude."
Gavin acknowledged with a nod and a smile.
"Cool!" Tyler enthused.
Tyler was twenty-nine, five feet five with shoulder length, untidy and dark greasy hair. Overweight with a prominent round face underlined by a double chin and matched with puffy sausage-like fingers. He filled out a dark blue 1980's style fashion shell suit that was grubby and stained.
"Thanks ..., erm ..., Tyler. Tyler Wattsin for some reason you're not on this tutorial list," Gavin said looking at the tutorial group printout he'd been given.
"Yeah I'm like, really stressed bout it man. Your registry people are incom.., incomptat.., incompatatent. Keep messin me about. All fees owed are like paid, honest man, it's like, totally done," Tyler explained.
"Okay sometimes the finance office forgets to update the registry office. No problem."
"Cool, man you're like, okay."
Tyler didn't explain that in the previous academic year his registration had been suspended by the University when a criminal records office check disclosed convictions that would not allow him to work with young or vulnerable people.
He failed the one exam he took and his registration had lapsed. He was a non-student in the system and he refused to take the hint and go away. He'd gain entrance through a special access programme for mature disadvantaged people and failed to take advantage of the opportunity.
"I'ss Francis A Ottobondi, track an' feel'd. Takes a good look at ma face, man. Am gonna be de woomen Usain Bolt. I gonna take de woomens 'undred meetres well below tin-point-three secunds at de next worrld champs.
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