Posted in life, rant, Writing

Woe is… Yodel.

So this week started off a lot more positively. I had a plan. I did my Italian exam on Monday and crammed the whole semester’s work into a couple of solid study days. It seemed to work. Fingers crossed I’ve nailed it. I wrote a lot for the written half but it’s just a matter of waiting and seeing.

Then my plan was to focus on writing, in part for the upcoming workshop and next impending TMA but also for my own other book projects. But Tuesday night, mum wanted an Argos delivery, it was scheduled to come on Thursday… Then we got the news it would be delivered by Yodel, and my heart sank.

Thursday happened, it was the day o2 had their system crash so there was no tracking for our delivery. Waited all day and nothing arrived, lo and behold, checking the tracking later said that the driver didn’t get us at home and put a note through the door – no surprise, there was no slip at the door. It was all lies.

Tried to get through to a person at Yodel on the phone but only got a robot who rearranged the delivery for the next day. So day 2 of waiting. Eventually the delivery showed up at nearly 6pm but the driver was brand new and confused at the box saying box 2 of 2… when we opened the HUGE box later half of the stuff was completely shattered. Cue the rage.

More phone calls to Argos’s unhelpful line still didn’t register any complaints or get any help apart from the mansplaining and condescension that Argos find it below them to deliver small items hence their use of couriers. Further frustrating conversations on the Argos Helpers Twitter page still resulted in nothing but a slew of random responses from a selection of random names.

So day 3 appeared and I resolved to just head into town to our preferred Argos store, where we did in fact get help from an amazing member of staff at customer services! She spoke with her manager, called the unhelpful line for us and rectified most of the problem by exchanging the broken products for unbroken ones (they are Christmas presents after all).

Unfortunately, the argos twitter people told me that the second parcel got sent back to the depot and will now be delivered on Monday… we’ll see.

Le sigh.

e x

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Posted in Education, Uncategorized, University, Writing

Don’t test me!

I’m not great at exams or tests, unless it’s something I absolutely know – but even then there’s a good chance my mind will space out and I’ll get simple things wrong.

I coasted my way through standard grades and even my highers… in all my years, just off what I happened to remember from the classes. I didn’t know how to engage with the information, never mind study or formulate the answers lecturers wanted from me.

When I got to uni, it was mostly all about those essays. My first essay at uni I scored 18/20 in Classics, and the teacher said I saved her soul because my enthusiasm for Classics oozed out of the pages. But then, it set me up with a false hope – when other teachers didn’t appreciate my poetic style and my ability to inform rather than factually analyse the grades dropped and my attempts at essay writing faded year on year.

Then came the exams where you’re expected to remember and regurgitate the coursework verbatim and don’t start me on open-book exams! The crux of all of these is when the tutors don’t explain how to tackle the questions, what to actually do in the exams or they make something up which is the exact opposite of what’s required.

I had classes as well where the essay questions were pre-selected for you, but I could never make heads nor tales of them and in desperate attempt to figure it out, I’d have a whole plan and run full steam ahead. (Even consulting with the course lecturer, hoping I was on the right track but they seemed impervious to my pleas of help) Then the damn things would be returned a few weeks later with a shitty grade (at least comparatively to others – and sometimes just downright shitty) and there’d be no chance of support to improve or understand what the hell they wanted in the first place!!!

The most disgusting and heart-breaking example was my dissertation. The idea struck me in a moment of inspiration in the library while lamenting that I wasn’t studying Italian, nor the Romans and wondering if the Romans ever had any ties to Spain. Ha! Maybe it’s common-ish knowledge nowadays but it was the first time I’d come across the Conquest for Hispania and that it took over 200 years to be conquered. I knew about Carthage, the Punic Wars, and Carthago Novo (now Cartagena in Murcia), but suddenly everything tied together.

My preparation work and presentation scored me a massively high A3 mark, so naturally my expectation was that this would translate into a similar grade.

Eleven months and over ten-thousand words later, despite going to every supervisor meeting possible and repeatedly being told that I had it and was doing fine… I got that plastic bound tome returned to me with not an A grade. The first paragraph of feedback was calling my work stellar, the narrative well-crafted, and that I’d handled the mixture of sources flawlessly, especially for an undergraduate thesis. Alas, what could I do? The supervisor I had was not skilled in European History, never mind Classical Western History and the classics department at uni had been made defunct, not that I could get another lecturer to mark it anyway. I was deeply angry about it for a long time, given how much effort I did put it – so many studyspo posts say that the effort won’t betray the grade, but in real life, it often can do – especially if you’re just not working in the teacher’s realm.

I’m still proud of my dissertation, and plan to rewrite and expand it in the future for MYSELF, because I find the subject endlessly fascinating. Isn’t that what education is? Or should be? About diving head-first into a thrilling new adventure and learning and absorbing all that you can about it… Not about how well you can construct a 2000 word essay or answer eight essay questions in an exam in under 2 hours.

I’m enthusiastic about plenty of stuff, I’m nerdy, brainy and have plenty of smarts, but maybe it doesn’t all translate to a specific grade. It’s a quality of knowledge that maybe can’t be measured but experienced.

Anyone else?

e x

Image Copyright https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:HansenBCN

Posted in life, Outings, wine, work

My 30th Birthday

It’s never a birthday around here without a dose of drama chucked into the mix.

Normally, I never really plan anything for my birthday other than going out for dinner, but this year, since it was a special level-up, I wanted to do something FUN – so I made my parents go bowling with me.

Step back, rewind. 

A few weeks before my birthday, I’d been getting terrible pain in my right shoulder. It was getting worse as the days wore on, not helped by how physically intensive my job was. The pain was running across my neck and down into my fingers which were going numb and aching… a trip to the doctor afforded me with a ton of Ibuprofen and Co-codamol and a sick-line. First time for everything, I guess. 

Time off helped greatly, a weight lifted from my shoulders (huh!) and it quickly dawned on me that things needed to change. Walking 3-miles home in the dark after 11pm at night stopped being fun after the first few goes. Taxis are too expensive and too hard to come by during the festive season and my soul was in pain.

I start my new job this weekend, had my induction last week, and it’ll keep me going for the next few months while I make some serious decisions. Although, given today’s Brexit revelations we might all be dead in a few months anyway.

Back to the birthday, we had the first celebration and bowling the day before my birthday and it was great! Even though I was desperately sleep deprived and my right shoulder still aching, my left worked enough to allow me to win both games – mum even came second, beating dad!

I had a quick nap before getting up to get ready for the evening meal with the fam and my old roommate. Finally I had someone to share a bottle of prosecco with! I received a ton of lovely, thoughtful (and useful) gifts to motivate me in my new chapter.

Martini Espresso to end the night

It was a great birthday overall and I’m quite happy  that I’m now ‘in my thirties’ even though I still have no idea what I’m doing… and that I had to stay up until 4am the morning after my birthday finishing my Master’s assignment!

e x

P.S. that’s my cake in the Featured Image… Gluten, Wheat, and Dairy free cake (the donuts were from Gregg’s ^_^

Posted in Travel, Year Abroad

Four years ago…

I meant to have this ready to publish for the 7th of September… Alas, four years ago on the 7th September I moved to Granada, Spain for a year.

I haven’t really written much about my time abroad, honestly it took me a long time to separate the good from the bad. Hindsight can help with that, but often times makes me wish I had a time machine.

I’m just putting this note out there and promise that soon I’ll start posting about all my experiences abroad with pictures, it’s time to own it!

Posted in Writing

Nanowrimo 2018

I swear I’m really going to try and complete it this year! It’s been four years since I last won Nano, and that was because I was in exile in Spain at the time.

I’ve already got a good head-start and I’m working on a book that I wrote a long time ago for Nano but now that I’m doing my MA in CW and I know how to write better, I’m fixing and chopping up the chapters as I go… so it is a wholly new written piece.

I’m also tired right now, excuse me.

Plus, I’m in the last three weeks of my 20s!

More to come…

e x

Posted in Blogging Challenge, Memories

30 Day Blogging Challenge – Day 28

Most Embarrassing Moment

Um. It’s hard to say, most of the moments I can think of are more humiliating than just embarrassing.

I would probably say the time in fifth year of high school when I blacked out at the end of lunch and fell into the one puddle in the middle of the courtyard. It was June, but Scotland, hence there still being a puddle. I woke to find the whole school crowded around me waiting to see if I was dead or not, then the eruption of laughter as they realised I wasn’t dead… I was confused, I thought I was home watching Hollyoaks and couldn’t remember falling at all.

I got called Puddle Girl for a month.