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The one thing that I tried to hold onto...
Nov. 3rd, 2004 01:35 pmThis, weirdly enough, is the closest I have to a political icon.
Last night, I decided screw everything, and curled up in bed watching BBC News 24. Pedar, hypcocrite he, had been surreptitiously refreshing BBC Online waiting for the first states to be called. In the end he came and sat in here and we watched it together. The coverage was brilliant - snarky, comprehensive and eminently watchable - and midnight our time, the first results came through. I got to see the east coast declared before Pedar made me go to bed. It was about ten past twelve, and they were saying which states were next, and I said, "Please, just let me watch Ohio, pleasepleaseplease..."
In hindsight, it's a good thing he said no. I'd still be there.
In the morning, I dragged myself out of bed and flicked on the telly. Just as I tuned in Hawaii was called, bringing it to 249 for Bush and 225 for Kerry. I was in a thoroughly foul mood when I went to school. Mrs Custard was in the study room, and I glared at her when I came in and she laughed at me. "It's not so bad." Meaning BMAT, of course.
At which point I had to moan and wail about Kerry and Bush and the electoral college and BMAT and oh, it's so, so unfair and half the Supreme Court are going to die and Bush will appoint fascists and there goes the state of Western politics for the next forty years.
Mrs Custard laughed a bit more and said something about PPE being the thing for me. Rola told me that work done equals force times distance moved. I didn't know that and was grateful.
Downstairs, Mr Evans was in a state of deep, crushing, soul-destroying despair. He was snapping at people, which he never usually does, and the moment he saw me, he yelled, "I don't want to talk about it!"
"It could still happen," I tried.
He put his fingers over his ears. "Don't do that to me! Don't even talk about it!"
I got registered, stuck my head in the library, and went to the Mulberry room. There were five of us for BMAT, and one for HAT (yes, I found it amusing too), and the room was full of exam desks and papers. The first thing you had to do was tick a box to say you were there. I kid you not. "Please indicate if candidate was present for the examination."
Then the first paper, Aptitude and Skills. I only did about half of the questions and those I did do are probably wrong. Less said, the better.
Second paper - Scientific knowledge. I missed out all the Maths and Physics questions, got throughly tangled on macromolecular solids, and gave up in despair five minutes before time, ticking boxes with the idea that it's multiple choice, I've got a one in five chance of getting them right.
And the essay paper, which for me was the easiest. There were several choices for the question, and later the invigilator (who turned out to be Mrs Colvin) said I was the only one to do the following:
"Individual freedom and the rule of law are mutually incompatible. On what grounds would you make this assertion? Advance a countering argument. How would you reconcile freedom and law in a real society?"
Well, I liked it. I only had half an hour, but you could only write one page, so I wrote it in twenty minutes and stared out of the window for the rest of the time. I have to say, I don't think it was the sort of essay they should have set for BMAT, given that the B is for "Biomedical", but I'm not complaining.
We finished. We handed in papers. We left. I ambled up to the common room, sat and did nothing for a few minutes except compare notes and carp over the questions, and then Becky O came in. In floods of tears, I might add. My initial reaction was just that she, like me, made a mess, but it was worse. She'd used a calculator. Apparently she came in late, didn't realise, and just used it. None of the invigilators noticed, and she didn't noticed no-one else had one, and just, panic. She's in despair. I was later hauled in by Mrs Custard and asked to explain everything, which I tried to do, and then she wanted to know how it went, which I told her, and then she gave me a hug and said don't do medicine. She's wonderful, she is. She was too upset to call the exam board!
So I went home, talked to Jane briefly (she's as upset about all this as I am) and it's just a bad day. For me - BMAT, calculators, lack of sleep, bad hair, no boots - and the world. And I don't have to say why that is.
Last night, I decided screw everything, and curled up in bed watching BBC News 24. Pedar, hypcocrite he, had been surreptitiously refreshing BBC Online waiting for the first states to be called. In the end he came and sat in here and we watched it together. The coverage was brilliant - snarky, comprehensive and eminently watchable - and midnight our time, the first results came through. I got to see the east coast declared before Pedar made me go to bed. It was about ten past twelve, and they were saying which states were next, and I said, "Please, just let me watch Ohio, pleasepleaseplease..."
In hindsight, it's a good thing he said no. I'd still be there.
In the morning, I dragged myself out of bed and flicked on the telly. Just as I tuned in Hawaii was called, bringing it to 249 for Bush and 225 for Kerry. I was in a thoroughly foul mood when I went to school. Mrs Custard was in the study room, and I glared at her when I came in and she laughed at me. "It's not so bad." Meaning BMAT, of course.
At which point I had to moan and wail about Kerry and Bush and the electoral college and BMAT and oh, it's so, so unfair and half the Supreme Court are going to die and Bush will appoint fascists and there goes the state of Western politics for the next forty years.
Mrs Custard laughed a bit more and said something about PPE being the thing for me. Rola told me that work done equals force times distance moved. I didn't know that and was grateful.
Downstairs, Mr Evans was in a state of deep, crushing, soul-destroying despair. He was snapping at people, which he never usually does, and the moment he saw me, he yelled, "I don't want to talk about it!"
"It could still happen," I tried.
He put his fingers over his ears. "Don't do that to me! Don't even talk about it!"
I got registered, stuck my head in the library, and went to the Mulberry room. There were five of us for BMAT, and one for HAT (yes, I found it amusing too), and the room was full of exam desks and papers. The first thing you had to do was tick a box to say you were there. I kid you not. "Please indicate if candidate was present for the examination."
Then the first paper, Aptitude and Skills. I only did about half of the questions and those I did do are probably wrong. Less said, the better.
Second paper - Scientific knowledge. I missed out all the Maths and Physics questions, got throughly tangled on macromolecular solids, and gave up in despair five minutes before time, ticking boxes with the idea that it's multiple choice, I've got a one in five chance of getting them right.
And the essay paper, which for me was the easiest. There were several choices for the question, and later the invigilator (who turned out to be Mrs Colvin) said I was the only one to do the following:
"Individual freedom and the rule of law are mutually incompatible. On what grounds would you make this assertion? Advance a countering argument. How would you reconcile freedom and law in a real society?"
Well, I liked it. I only had half an hour, but you could only write one page, so I wrote it in twenty minutes and stared out of the window for the rest of the time. I have to say, I don't think it was the sort of essay they should have set for BMAT, given that the B is for "Biomedical", but I'm not complaining.
We finished. We handed in papers. We left. I ambled up to the common room, sat and did nothing for a few minutes except compare notes and carp over the questions, and then Becky O came in. In floods of tears, I might add. My initial reaction was just that she, like me, made a mess, but it was worse. She'd used a calculator. Apparently she came in late, didn't realise, and just used it. None of the invigilators noticed, and she didn't noticed no-one else had one, and just, panic. She's in despair. I was later hauled in by Mrs Custard and asked to explain everything, which I tried to do, and then she wanted to know how it went, which I told her, and then she gave me a hug and said don't do medicine. She's wonderful, she is. She was too upset to call the exam board!
So I went home, talked to Jane briefly (she's as upset about all this as I am) and it's just a bad day. For me - BMAT, calculators, lack of sleep, bad hair, no boots - and the world. And I don't have to say why that is.
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