All entries for Saturday 28 May 2005

May 28, 2005

The Law of Mr Sod

And I was doing so well. So well. I’d been eating sensibly, exercising every day, getting eight hours of sleep a night, and most importantly, doing about three hours of constructive revision a day (with a minimum of an hour’s faffing about before I actually got down to said three hours of proper revision. You know it’s been a bad day when the amount of time you spent pretending to revise outweighs the actual time you spent actually doing some work.)

My exam was Thursday morning. I got home Wednesday evening, after a sensible sensible day of sensibleness. I checked my emails, had a balanced meal that contained all the right food groups and colours and shapes, and decided to have a nice healthy and calming cup of chamomile tea as I looked over my revision notes before I had an early night.

And that, dear reader, was my undoing. Five minutes later, that soothing cup of herbs in boiling water was doing its calming and soothing thing all over my right arm. And because I was being over-eager, it wasn’t just a normal-sized cup, but a huge oversized mug. Of boiling water. All over my arm. And did I mention it was boiling?

So, after a lot of deliberation/panic, I ended up in A&E at 11pm the night before my first exam, holding a bag of melting ice-cubes to my blistering arm, with a great red mark that we decided was shaped like a tree looking scarily like the Student Loans Company logo (and that also reminded me that was another thing I hadn’t sorted out yet). Last time I managed to burn my arm (yes, that’s right, last time), I managed it by leaning casually on the metal toaster in halls, which gave me an exciting U shaped scar not dissimilar to the Union flicky U logo thing. I am expecting a ‘University of Warwick’ shaped scratch across my leg any day now.

So anyway, I finally got to bed about half twelve, with a big stinging bandaged arm. Well, you’re thinking, that’s a decent night’s sleep, even if she has been branded in a corporate whorish way. What’s she whinging about?

And yes, it would have been if Liverpool hadn’t chosen that night to win some galactic football tournament of some sort, and I didn’t come from that area, and I hadn’t left my phone on in order to use the alarm for the following morning. From about 1am I got a lovely assortment of drunken texts telling me ‘youll never wak alon’ and ‘come on reds’ and ‘reds yeah woo,’ culminating a phone call at 3.30am when I was serenaded by ‘wheeeeen you waaaaaaaaalk through a stoooooorm hold your head up hiiiiiiigh’ in uproarious drunken style.

So the upshot of that is that I turned up for my first exam, after a week of effortful virtuous living, bleary eyed and tired, without having read over my notes, and with my arm bandaged up.

And I was doing so well. So well.

Mr Sod, I salute you. You have won once again.


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