As anyone who knows me knows, today is my least favourite day of the year. A Level Thursday. Whilst most rational people can let their A Level results day fade to a distant memory, mine is right up there at the front in bright technicoloured awfulness. The first thing I said this morning was "Grrr. A Level Thursday".
I hate A Level Thursday as it was one of the worst days of my life, and every year when I see all the 18 year olds who already have everything (blonde shiney hair, slimness, rich daddy) opening those godawful envelopes live on tv, only to discover that - and Oh! What a suprise! - they got straight A's, my heart goes out to all the 18 year olds who get 3D's and an E and think their life is over. Although I suppose letting the thick kids open their results only to start crying and pounding the ground wouldn't make quite as heartwarming a scene on breakfast tv. It would be more entertaining though, and at least I'd be able to relate to it "Oh, look, they've run out of the building straight to the clearing hotline to try and beg a place somewhere, I did that!", "Oh dear, she's ruinung her mascara, she could at least have waited 'til she got home like I did".
It just seems to be something I can't get over, which I should really, as it was 11 years ago. Wow, now I feel old......although to be fair, if I'd spent less time in pubs or misbehaving with boys and more time in actual lessons, I doubt it would have been so bad. I may not be a straight A girl, but boy, did I have fun!
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