Exam 1: German

So the first exam was finally upon me. Since I had two days of sleep yesterday I couldn't fall asleep properly last night and woke up about a billion times this morning, but the fact of the matter is I didn't feel at all tired when my phone woke me up at 10:30 and then reminded me to wake up again at 10:32. I made sure I set two alarms, just in case. My morning routine was about as spaced out as usual. I put some meat on some bread, called it breakfast (you know, for speed purposes) and then stuck on the latest episode of Stargate Universe. Josh doesn't like Stargate on account of the fact that they make up physics, stating that it is impossible to survive through a wormhole. Fortunately I don't share that philosophy and watch TV because I enjoy watching it, rather than debating how un-science the science is. I find it extremely clever though, but that's probably because half of the science sounds like it was made up by me. For example, the idea that if you send a wormhole through a solar flare then it can send you back in time and other such stuff.

Anyway, after Stargate Universe I was pushing it time-wise because I intended to be out of the house at 11:30 and it was now 11:33 and the time I reached the bus stop was 11:43, but it turned out that the bus's arrival time was 11:48, so I congratulated myself for being damn-well on time. While congratulating myself over the next five minutes, I came to the realisation that I didn't have a pen which is a staple for exams, so I started to panic. I went over scenarios in my head of how on Earth I could get a pen before the exam. My favourite scenario was to find Mr Nicholls before the exam, explain to him the morning I've had so that he'd sympathise with me. I then planned my route to school from the Danesholme Road bus stop and suddenly realised that my route would take me through the local Morrison's. I slapped myself on the forehead and waited for the bus to arrive.

The bus journey was about as bus-journey as it gets really. Nothing interesting happened.

The next stage of the journey was to get to Morrison's, and I came across some rather odd graffiti.

It says "Gravdigga" if your computer can't load the image, or indeed this is one of those instances when I've uploaded the post before I've uploaded the picture onto the interwebs. I came up with rather funny caption to this image, which I shall share with you.
"I dig gravs. I then puts ded pepls in the gravs."
I thought that was hilarious considering I needed a pick-me-up after my ever-so-boring morning and seeing as I had just spent £6 to get to school only to do a bloody exam.

Now, Morrison's usually gives me what I need in terms of food, but finding a pen here was a fucking nightmare. I walked in and found the section labelled "Stationary" but it was full of paper. The logical place to put pens would be with the paper, but no, not here. I then traipsed around the entire fucking supermarket until I ended up back at the start and surprise fucking surprise, there were the pens behind an old woman conversing with another old woman right in the fucking way. When I pushed my way towards the pens, neither of the old women thought it would be courteous to get the fuck out of the way so that I could buy the fucking things. I spotted what I needed: a pack of Bic biros. However, there was no "2 for 50p" option because the only pack of Bic pens they have is the pack of four for £1. There goes the last of my pocket money. The next hurdle was to pay for the damn things. I thought paying using the self-service checkout would be a logical solution, but time after time I keep forgetting that self-service checkouts are the most illogical pieces of shit known to man-kind. I don't see why it can't be the same as a regular checkout, just without a person there. I know the money has to be automated, but that function has been around for donkey's years. The idea is that you cut out the cashier by replacing the things that they ask with buttons. The trouble I had was when it came to paying. If this were logical then I'd scan the thing, put it in the bagging area so they know I haven't got anything else, pay and walk out. That should be easy. So why the fuck does it ask me whether I have bags or not? I chose to go with the "Yes" option because I didn't want an entire fucking carrier bag for a pack of four biros, but of course it told me to put the thing in the bag that doesn't exist. After an entire minute of trying to get the fucking thing to accept my money and stop asking me to put the bloody item in the non-existent bag I got the helpful staff member to override the damn thing so it'd let me pay. Why can't it have an override button that I can use? Illogical. That's what that is. Il-fucking-logical. I paid and left. Stupid self-sevice check out. Gonna murder them.... so hard.

Anyway, the journey to school then happened. Fortunately my feet work at least 100 times better than any transport (aside from bikes) for this stage of the operation, so I decided to use them. A short walk later and the confusing riddle that is my school during the holidays was directly ahead of me. See, at Brooke Weston there are two entrances along with two front receptions. They have never ever ever ever ever ever ever stated which reception is the actual front reception, because it is entirely dependant on what mood the school is in. This time, they went for the entrance that was in front of the car part instead of the fountain, which was confirmed when the ever-wonderful Cassie gave me a delightful "You alright, Hutchy?" as I tried to work out which entrance was open today. I composed myself and gave her the most confident "Hi!" I've given anyone ever in my life. She has no idea that I was totally confused. Unless she reads this. She might read this.

I then walked into the educational establishment and looked at where my exam was going to take place. "Maslow" the timetable read. Hmm. See, I can never remember who Maslow is. I thought he/she was a language expert, but then Inside Voice changed its mind and told me that he/she was a Mathematician, but it turns out that Maslow is in the Business corridor so he/she must be... a businessman/woman. What a boring title. What on Earth did she/he do to be the name of a classroom? Oh well. I then found a Herr Nicholls sitting politely in his room, so I went in and said hi and explained to him the morning that I had just had. I thought that I was the only year 13 sitting this exam, so when Hannah, Mairaid and Caitlin walked in I was pleasantly surprised. Turns out that the year 12s hadn't bothered to come and see Herr Nicholls, which comes to show how dedicated we as a class really are. Go year 13! Exam time was soon upon us, and my cold had finally reached its peak. I instantly thought that I was going to die, and then I remembered that man-flu is a silent killer, that takes its time to kill you. I then calculated how many years I had left, and as soon as I realised that it wasn't going to catch me for at least half a century I stopped panicking and ignored my cold, so it soon vanished from existence.

The exam then happened.

That's all from me.

Nah I'm joking, do you think I'd really let you get away without me telling you how it went?

It went about as well as it could've done.

Good. Happy now? Good.

But seriously, the only problem I had was with the words "sich reden" and "entaeuschen" and of course the bloody essay. I ended writing on the topic of marriage, because it was the only one where I could write the words "Love is like peeing your trousers. Everyone can see it but only you get that warm feeling" and get away with it. So yeah, I'm pretty confident about this exam.

Until next time, avid readers!

EDIT: Uhh... of course I know who Maslow is since he created Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, which is an integral part of my Media exam. I understand why he's in Business, but they don't half harp on about him in the English corridor. Sense: none found.