December 7 (Tuesday): Today goes utterly wrong. I awaken at 4AM, unable to go back to sleep overly concerned about today’s exam. This is the first of two, which is twice as bad, double the trouble. Well ahead of time, in the early hours of the morn I opt for listening to the revision tapes with the view of some last minute, subconscious cram.

When the alarm eventually goes off at 7AM, I’m pretty still half awake and feel fully rough. I awaken (proper) with one of the worst headaches I have ever known. Oh bugger.

I leave home around 8AM, which is pretty precautious for a drive to Chelmsford for a 10AM exam. Still, I do experience the usual hell that is getting out of Colchester in rush hour and as per usual, the A12 is being worked on (when is it not?), so there are obvious hold ups there so it turns out fortunate I overcompensate.

I arrive in Chelmsford at 9AM and park up and await my fate while the going is still good. I check my phone and still no word from Sara and particularly today, no wishes of “good luck”. Phoebe does however text me with “good luck” which warms up my little black heart.

Inside my car I perform a lot of last minute cram revision, creating all sorts of great mnemonics for audit terms that are all sex centred, these I am bound to remember. I just hope that I will need to remember them.

I leave my car around 9.30 to head to the exam hall. I look around for some familiar faces but really there isn’t anyone I know about today, what does that suggest? I notice one woman who stands and immediately I find myself very smit and all my concentration on my exam suddenly transfers to my dick. Whoops.

The exam actually turns out to be ok. I sit at desk 102 which is uncomfortably fairly central in the exam hall but the questions this time round seem less vague than in the summer. I tear through it and bash out lengthy answers which I think/hope will be enough. I do notice a couple of boo boos here and there, not least the question I answer before realising I have misread the actual question but I think I manage to work enough magic for damage limitation. I write solid for three hours and for the first time I find myself requiring an additional answer booklet after filling up the standard issue twenty page booklet. It turns out to be a hard exam but certainly passable (but then again so was last summers).

By the time the exam is history, I pull away from Chelmsford and drive back down the A12 with my headache cleared and a whole air of relief sweeping over me. On the way home I stop off via Asda to get some munch.

When I arrive home, the fucking groundskeeper is around and he collars me for conversation. He asks me all about my job and reckons I was hard done by because I never received an actual written warning. Maybe, this does seem a man who would have received such warnings over the years. I’m too tired and jaded to really talk to this guy today and I’m pretty vacant in conversation, even to the point that HE actually gets bored of me! Job done. This is of course not before he gets to tell me the latest tales of the crime scene of Colchester and he gives me the latest news (gossip) on all my neighbours. I could give a fuck.

Once home, I head upstairs to hide and prepare for tomorrows tax exam. It really doesn’t look good for that one. There’s no real time/opportunity to study for it now, so I just chuck on the study tapes and pray that there will be some magic in them.

I check my landline and there is a message left on there from Acme Personnel , some woman I have never heard of before. I call them up and I am being lined up for a job interview on Friday. When the guy tells me the company is called Caring Homes, I naturally think the job is at a construction firm called Caring who build houses. Nope, it’s caring as in wiping old people’s arses and running off with their kid’s inheritances kind of caring. OK, should be interesting, at least it’s an interview paying what I want and currently, in this panic state, just what I am looking for.

At 3.50 Stevo calls me mobile, for reasons unknown. We talk shit and I think he’s just calling because he sounds bored in the office. I’m loath to ask about the office but he tells me anyway. To be honest, I think it’ll be best if I cut all ties with the firm just to ensure that I don’t turn into some kind of David Brent character (ha ha).

Back to the tapes on the computer and Acton MSNs some, causing a bit of a distraction. And then mum phones up and I really don’t want to talk, I just want some last minute revision. I pick up the phone and must sound like the most grumpy bollocks of grumpy bollocks.

10PM comes around and that’s really my study curfew so I flip to watching Teachers on Four followed by Sex Inspectors featuring this weird couple into S&M going vanilla. After that comes the Peep Show repeat whilst on BBC is The Chase with Henry Rollins and before I know it I have stayed awake/up past midnight on a school night before my exam. Whoops.

np: Rah Bras - Bababoon