06.30- Alarm goes off; three hours to revise, more than you’ve done in the last week. Proves too much for holiday-mode body to handle. Just one snooze…
08.47- Definitely turned the alarm off whilst half-asleep, oops. Never mind, still half an hour to look at last year’s paper.
09.27- Couldn’t navigate the labyrinth of OxCort/Oxfam/Oxymoron (where do past papers hide?), got distracted by Schnauzer Puppies Live. Internally debate the morality of taking notes in, realise no suitable notes exist anyway.
09.30- Squeezed onto bench with subject friends, inevitable discussion of how little everyone’s done – honest. Tutor has been extra keen and set their own paper, a cunning ploy which sends a ripple of disappointment along the bench. Why do I feel smug?
09.31- Paper might as well be in a foreign language (if it’s a language paper, then it probably is). Oh well, if you’re going to churn out an A Level general studies answer it might as well be in your most impeccable handwriting.
09.50- Sod that. Hand decidedly out of practice. Page begins to look like a 5 year old tried to draw with their toes.
11.33- Withering maths brain having difficulty dividing 3 hours by 3. Leave essay hanging mid-sentence and career onto the last one. No time for planning.
11.59- Time to leave; don’t want to be stuck there for the last half hour. By now you’re really scraping the intellectual bullshit barrel anyway and extreme apathy has kicked in.
12.15- Beat the lunch rush; feeling decidedly better remembering that as an arts student the worst case scenario is that you get a mid-2.2. Name on the paper and all that!
13.00- Plan for the afternoon was to start on the term’s work; in reality the day’s a complete write-off. Today’s been traumatic enough as it is, you’re slipping into post-prandial somnolence and entitled to a decent break!
