And she shouldn’t even have to do any of this Miss, ‘cos she’s got a verruca.
It’s half term this week, and hot on its heels will be reading week, immediately followed by what our modus operandi has been leading up to since the outset, exam week. These are seen exams. Seen exams are, obviously, where you see the question in advance. Not so obvious, at least not to me, is the fact that one cannot take into the exam room anything but the clothes you stand up in. And a pen (well, two in case one runs out – but they have to be in a transparent cheat proof pencil case). All the prep done in advance has to be committed to memory; this includes all citations and any references used, though we are spared the Bibliography. How thoughtful.
When I got back I threw the shopping in a cupboard, and settled down to preparing for my history exam. Not content with spreading my stuff all over the dining table (we have been eating off trays on laps for weeks now), I am also occupying two chairs, housing lever arch files, which balance at odd angles and teeter on the brink most of the time.
This precarious state was doomed to failure, I know that, but wasn't entirely prepared for an 8.6 Richter scale reading when it finally came crashing down like a giant Jenga stack. My own fault, but really the law of the sod is a strange thing. The very (and only) piece that I needed ended up under the sideboard. Everything else was fanned out on the floor in a retrievable splat, but the bit I wanted most was out of sight and out of reach under a piece of furniture that weighs half a tonne. Not until several hernia inducing hours later was I good to go once more.
As an aide-memoir, I bought a dictaphone. Feeling not unlike Alan Partridge, I have done a few ‘notes to self’ on it. But then I thought I would dictate all my exam assignments I have written and play them back when in bed. Sleep induced therapy or whatever it’s called. I was unimpressed by the technique when the following day I felt as unenlightened as before I began, only to find that the batteries were completely flat. I had left the thing on all night. Didn't really think that one through!
I have been at my mother in laws for the last couple of days. Her toaster blew up, so I took her to buy a new one. We acquired one from Tesco’s essential range which by definition does not come with six complementary lessons at The School of Toasting. “This toaster only toasts” she said. “Cheers”, I replied, but it was lost on her. So instead I tried “Really, how odd, usually it then puts the toast on a plate and butters if for you”. That at least got her attention and enabled me to enquire what exactly she meant by her outburst. It transpired she didn’t realise it had a thermostat setting. Setting 5 burnt, setting 6 carcinogenic.
She also has a new mobile. Big deal! I hear you cry. Oh how wrong you are. Nothing my mother in law ever does is big deal free. This one was ordered online, not least because she grew impatient for me to take her to a shop and buy one. It arrived with instructions in every language under the sun accept her mother tongue. Naturally enough she didn’t expect me to believe her when she said there were no English instructions. I didn’t. There weren’t. I even took it to CPW for them to take a butchers. Quite honestly you gets what you pays for. It’s very noisy, so it’s a good job she’s a bit mutton.
My poor mum was diverted off the motorway recently. She had set out at 9.30am, by 2pm she was still waiting to be released from a huge queue following an accident. Eventually traffic was diverted up the slip road and then everyone’s worst nightmare ensued as she followed directions for “you’re completely on your own Jack”.
She was on her way up here so she could pat me on the back in fact. I had an informal interview at Warwick University on Monday. I had no idea what to expect from an ‘informal interview’, nor indeed where to go to have it! All I had to go on was the guy’s name and that he was in room 2.31. Have you ever been to Warwick University? It’s like a town; no it’s like a city, its huge! I drove round the main campus three times. You can’t stop to ask, because you can’t stop! Everywhere is no parking; everywhere there are yellow lines and one way streets, honestly it’s enormous.
I hadn’t expected to be told of their decision there and then, and I still await written confirmation via UCAS, but I was offered a place on their Sociology course. That really is quite prestigious if I say so myself. They are rated 6th in the country overall and rated 4th by the Guardian and the Times in the whole of the UK for their Sociology degrees. He may have even mentioned an unconditional offer, or I could have been hallucinating by then, which is why I want to wait for the formal UCAS edict and then I will be certain. How cool is that?!
I am off to party tomorrow night. Coincidently enough the theme is School and we are having a School Dinner. I have made some plaits from wool that I bought in the charity shop, complete with wire in them so they turn up at the ends. I must remember to buy some ribbon, not least to hide my shoddy stitch work! I got a hat from a school uniform shop in town, and I have bought a glass, threaded on a string of beads which hangs round your neck, so I will never be without a liquid refreshment receptacle. Think it will be a good night, though I must remember to take a letter from my mum to say I hate cabbage and lumpy spuds and I have a verruca so I can’t do PE. I once made a verruca at school last over six months. Now that’s clever.