Oh, the poor students. First the trauma of the Leaving Cert, and now, on Wednesday, the shock therapy of results day. Those dreaded figures - available for the first time by phone this year - will leave some delighted, and others with tears plopping into their Smirnoff Ice.

But don't waste all your sympathy on Fiona who didn't get medicine at Trinity or Ben who has to settle for arts at UCD. They'll survive. But their parents, now that's a different story.

I've been through it once as a parent and am about to do it again. Second time round, I'm prepared. Boy oh boy, am I prepared!

From start to finish, I was a rookie last time out. I congratulated myself on mastering the CAO system, which is like learning rocket science. But that was the least of it. What was to follow, starting on the day the results came out, was mind-bending stuff entirely. I had no idea.

Whatever about the offspring, the first year of college was a real learning experience for me. Hardly a day went by that I didn't find myself uttering the "Nobody told me that" phrase. For instance, nobody told me about the whole accommodation thing.

Logic seemed to say that you couldn't find somewhere to live until you knew where you were going. We naively waited until the college offer was confirmed in writing. With that in our grubby paws, we rang the college in question regarding campus accommodation. (We were hoping for an ensuite.) I can still hear them laughing. They helpfully gave us a booklet of houses to let and landladies etc. That brought us on to the next wet fish in the face.

Nobody told me that there are people in this country (outside the political arena) who have necks harder than brass and can look you in the eye with nary a blink. Some of the accommodation we saw was unbelievable.

Sick-making stuff. Anything that was semi-fit for human habitation had been snapped up since Christmas of the previous year at least. We trudged the streets and knocked on doors for two days - all we were missing was the little donkey and the star in the East. This time round, we have provisional bookings on all neighbouring planets.

Neither were we told that we'd be made to feel redundant. The college in question advertised an Information Session for parent "newbies" like us. We were most appreciative and turned up at the appointed time.

The hall was full - reminiscent of a parent/teacher evening. We were addressed by a student counsellor who outlined the support facilities available to the fruit of our loins and then, and in no uncertain terms, told us to butt out. None of our business anymore. Umbilical cord very firmly severed along with any apron strings that might have gotten in the way.

We left feeling much like we'd felt when we left her with a babysitter for the first time - only this time we couldn't phone every 20 minutes for reassurance. Next on the list is money. It bleeds out of you. The "no fees" arrangement lulls you into a false sense of security and I shudder to think how people managed prior to it. You know it's going to be an expense whether they're commuting daily or paying rent and you've probably weighed off for it to some extent. Weigh again. Then weigh some more. In fact, get an industrial scales. There are expenses you've never thought of. You decide on X amount per week and tell them it will have to do. Just watch those goalposts moving.

You'll be blackmailed. "I'll just have to get a part-time job - it means it will cut my study time but. . ." You give in and up the ante. They get a job anyway. And you'll be conned.

You'll get a text message asking you to ring - sorry, "2 ring". You ring. "Hi Mum!" Loud background noise. "Anything wrong?", you inquire. "No, but I need a book. Can you lodge some money?" Loud background music, a clink-clinking sound and explosive laughing. "Um. . . could you lodge it, um, now? It's the last one in the shop and I really need it for my tutorial in the morning." Were all such expensive tomes to be transported home at the end of the year, a small articulated truck would be the order of the day.

It goes on, this list of mine, but there just isn't enough paper.

To end on an up-note, there are compensations. You know you've got something half right when you're loading the nth pile of washing into the dryer on Sunday night and emptying the household supplies of dry goods and toilet rolls into a rucksack. Okay, maybe it is only to use the facilities but. . . they're still coming home.

Leaving Cert results are available from 12 noon on Wed August 16th to Fri August 18th on 1530-719808.