You might remember that I’m attempting to learn something (other than where the best cat videos are on YouTube, obviously) and took up studying in the summer.
If going back to education after a 30 year gap is like riding a bike again, then I’ve fallen off, scraped my knees and had several punctures whilst wobbling around violently. The last six months have seen me careering without brakes towards an exam, which seemed fairly scary until last Wednesday, when I travelled to Manchester to take it, and it became really hideously scary.Apparently, exams aren’t nearly frightening enough on their own nowadays, and some initiative tests have been introduced to ensure maximum stress levels before you pick up your pen.
On arrival, the main entrance had a notice on it, saying that exam victims needed to use an entrance on another street. After eventually locating that, it was time to find the hall on floor K.
After a few long seconds of blinking rapidly at an array of buttons, it turned out the lift only went as far as J which, with tension levels rising fast, wasn’t as easy to establish as it sounds.
One lift journey and set of stairs later, and the doors to terror were in front of me. Inside I could see row upon row of desks – the third initiative test was about to commence. The assembled scared students were forced to undertake a baffling game of numerical chairs, where you had to find your desk solely by a random 7 digit student number, aided only by the clue that the desks were in order, but not if that was left to right, along rows, or using some kind of algorithm.
Luckily, I chanced upon mine quite quickly, and watched a desperate dance take place as frightened examinees wandered around in increasing desperation looking for theirs.
I just had time to take in the flashback-to-school-PE-lessons-inducing wooden climbing rope apparatus against the wall and have a brief panic attack about pens and we were off, our knowledge cunningly probed during two hours of high intensity brain exercises.
To ensure that the post-exam fear doesn’t fade too rapidly, I don’t get the results until February. I’m classing the fact that I got out alive as a pass.
Whilst I might have had a self-inflicted, mentally tough, week, many others suffered in a far more physical sense, with the appalling weather and flooding last weekend causing much damage.
With the after-effects lasting for months as people and businesses gradually sort out the mess left, I’m heartened by the remarkable resilience of Cumbrians.
Self-pity and moaning aren’t on the agenda, just a quiet, matter-of-fact, determination to get things sorted and back to normal, and a willingness to help others.
I might only have moved to this fine county 9 years ago, and will therefore never be a true Cumbrian, but if I’m even half as great as you lot are in the face of adversity, then I’m doing brilliantly. Up yours, Desmond!
This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in the North West Evening Mail, on the 11th of December 2015. It didn't show up on their website, but hey - let's not get all knotted-up about that, eh? Life's too short, and I've just had Wasabi peas, cider, leftover curry that I found in the freezer, chocolate ice cream, a cappuccino (obvs) and some Cadbury Dairy Milk, so I'm feeling good. Keep it real, people. Chillax and that.
The print edition of the paper shortened the title to "Examination Consternation", which is what I originally called it, before deciding just before subbing it to second-guess them and fill it out a bit more to give extra context. D'oh.
I can confirm that I wasn't joking about the exam being scary. Some additional stuff that I didn't have space for - as I wanted to mention the terrible flooding that ravaged our region the previous weekend - included:
- Me feeling like some kind of late-starting Grandad amongst all the twenty-somethings taking the exam too.
- Someone left after 40 minutes with a smile on their face (it was a 2 hour exam). Either they were supremely confident, incredibly bright, or were admitting that they had made a terrible mistake whilst trying to put a brave face on it.
- Remarkably, by the last 10 minutes, there were just 3 people left (from 60+) including me, who were all about my age (i.e. notably middle-aged). All the youngsters had scarpered, whilst us grown-ups were taking it seriously. Either that, or encroaching age meant we weren't able to think as fast. Discuss.
Happily, the rest of my course doesn't include terrifying memories of school brought to the surface by sitting at a very small desk in a very small room feeling stupid. If I want to feel that, I can just go to work every day.
(Short interlude from the CD A-Z to listen to a Coverville episode featuring ELO/Jeff Lynne related covers.)
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