in an Eng-lish coun-try gaaaaaa-ar-den!
Yesterday afternoon's exam venue should have been really quite charming and characterful by comparison to the battery farm over in Docklands. But Josephine awoke yesterday morning completely out of sorts with a thundering migraine and an upset tummy, such that the whole ordeal was really rather traumatic. Not only was it hotter than Daddy Bear's Porridge, but the loud and intrusive intermittent bleeping of a lorry reversing at intervals up and down the road outside for at least an hour was more than a little irritating. The provision of bright glaring-red scrap A4 paper on which to make notes (who on earth chose that one out of all the possible colours in the stationery cupboard?) only seemed to exacerbate the pounding headache such that the overall strain of the experience seemed monstrously overwhelming.
Suffice to say, the acrobats were really only a minor distraction while Josephine hacked her way through absolutely appallingly muddled and not-in-the-least-bit-coherent answers concerning the matters of easements and freehold covenants: so entangled in dominant and servient tenements was she, she would not even have noticed had they been more gainfully employed in a re-enactment of Whittaker v Minister of Pensions.
No, I never thought I'd find myself saying it, but I shall be glad to sit in the cool expansive gloom of the ExCel Centre in Docklands tomorrow, aspirined up to the eyeballs and furiously scribbling about Equity and Trusts.
Disappointment and despondency aside, Josephine is looking forward to the resumption of relative normality in all but a few days' time, followed by a night of carefree post-exam celebration with fellow students, all of whom will be quite literally proclaiming their renewed freedom from the rooftops. Josephine has assembled her flamingo liberation-apparatus in eager anticipation of the event, and will be preparing her defence to a charge under s.25 of the Theft Act 1968 over the weekend.
Officially past the half-way mark, and now scrambling toward the finishing line...
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1 comment:
Yes, WHAT was up with the red scrap paper? I mean, HONESTLY.
Hope you're feeling better tomorrow.
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