It's been absolutely ages since I was near a computer for long enough to answer emails, let alone update the old blog. And it's all been so interesting I can't even begin to think about how to start this. Much more annoying, I only had 20 minutes on the computer to blog all of this, and I've spent the last 10 minutes trying to solve the second catchphrase conundrum on plastic cat
. I can't do it. I'm going to have to retire as reigning champion now. It's not fair.
So. Instead of backdating the last few days, I'm just going to bore you all with a one massive great entry - as David Beckham once said. So let's get on with it.
I've recovered from the knock back from UCD through my usual method of every time I pass it on the 46A, yelling out the window and hurling abuse at all the student types that are around. (Pah, they don't pay taxes, they sponge off the state, they spend all day watching telly and surfing the net... they do all the things I do. Why didn't they take me? Why??? WHY???
To try to get over that, I spent much of the weekend drinking, and have carried that habit over to the beginning, middle and end of this week. It's the time of the month again, you see - the mood swings, the temper tantrums, the hot flushes and the minor blood loss - that's right, JC is back in Dublin for the week.
Today I am taking a day off from the joys of JC, something that would have probably have been better to do yesterday. This morning, you see, I had my driver's theory test, a compulsory test you must sit in Ireland before you're even allowed to sit behind the wheel of a car, or else the devil will appear and then you'd have to get a priest to come over and scrub you down with holy water. I wisely didn't bother my arse to study the rules of the road at all until last night, and obviously the best place to start that kind of dedicated learning is in a series of pubs and a theatre in which 14 different Irish comedians are pimping their own arses for a free trip to Canada.
Myself, Mrs Bishop and Mac Daddy JC were out and about on the town last night, the third successive night I've spent in the company of JC this week. I have to admit - and I'm embarrassed to do so - that I was flagging slightly last night, and my mind was not entirely on the fun that we should have been having, but was rather dwelling on the thought that I'd spent €30 booking this stupid theory test and I would have to pay that amount again to re sit the blasted exam when I inevitably failed the test (Do you see what you've done to me, UCD? DO YOU SEE?! I USED TO HAVE CONFIDENCE IN MYSELF. YOU HAVE DESTROYED ME).
So I made Mrs Bishop look through the rules of the road book I had helpfully brought along and test me on things in between acts, and I managed to get most of the questions right. At 2 in the morning when we were shredding beer mats and making a neat pile out of them to distract us from the fact that we were indoors and therefore not smoking, I was still getting the questions right. I even got the taxi driver to ask me questions on the way home at 3.30 this morning, and I got those questions right too. Really, I should have been more confident this morning, but when I woke up I was the crankiest thing you could ever see this side of a 2 year old child who has just been told that they're not allowed to do what they're currently doing. I was mumbly and muttering and the DART didn't come for ages, and I couldn't find the test centre and everything was just rubbish. But then I stormed through the test like the Driving Goddess that I obviously am destined to be and I passed it. (I PASSED IT. YOU HEAR THAT, UCD? IN. YOUR. FACE.)
The questions on the theory test are very weird. One of my questions, and I'm not making this up, ran as follows:
"You are driving a tractor over a hump-back bridge and pulling atrailerr. Which one of the following dangers should you be aware of?"
I wasn't sure where to begin, and all of the options presented seemed reasonable enough. For a start, you can't get into a car or tractor unaccompanied by an adult, three priests and a bishop unless you have yourlicensee here, and you can't get yourlicensee until you've passed this test, and you can't pull atrailerr until you've passed this test, then the driving test and then taken another test, so that kind of thing hadn't concerned either me or the authors of the basic rules of the road book that I had been studying from last night. I can't remember what the options were, but I got that particular question right. Thus, I both rock and win.
Me and Mrs Bishop placed a bet - witnessed by JC and sealed by a sinister handshake - on who would pass the test first. Mrs Bishop contends that she will, and I think she's horribly mistaken and wrong and also that she might as well pass me the €30 now to save the embarrassment later. I rock, as is evidenced above, and she is nothing but a non-driving fool.
I also finally got my OU essay back after a month's waiting. It was the first one I'd done this time round for the psychology course and I'd kind of winged it, so I was a bit nervy about what might have happened. In the end, obviously, I got a first. (A FIRST, UCD. DID YOU HEAR THAT?)
Mum suggested that I photocopy the comments from my tutor ("well written... professional writing style... excellent points") and send it in to UCD, but I don't want to waste my genius on the UCD fools because I am obviously too sodding great for them.
Tomorrow morning, I have horrible physiotherapy with the evil Rose West
at 9am. Then, I have lovely soothing warm hydrotherapy at 3pm. Then, off to the comedy club with JC, D, Mrs Bishop, potentially some members of my family and apparently the star of a major BBC1 sitcom. The excitement is palpable.