The Results

Ok, I will preface this by saying, despite how troubled and vexed I sound, my future (for the time being) is secure, I seem to have exactly what I want from my results and things are absolutely fine. So no comisserations, thank yous!

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My day started at around nine when I was awoken by my mother, leapt sleepily, but no less hastily, from my bed and bolted for the shower. A brief, scalding shot of hot water, a dab of soap here and there (never forget behind your ears) and I was out again and dried without even considering stopping to stair vainly at myself in the mirror. An equally rushed breakfast, dressing session and round of hair styling and we were out of the house by about 10:30.

You may ask how all these very snappy things took an hour and a half to do, and, in response, I may tell you that I stopped between them and watched Commited which has newly returned to its rightful home on Paramount Comedy! Huzzah!

This aside, as we set off my dad slips his copy of Bond's self titled album into the CD player, adding a horrible, surreal sense of urgency to the whole thing which easily belittles the levity with which I worked earlier and my stomach clenches and contracts, working into it huge knots and spontaeniously generating butterflies as the drive nears its destination.

As I get out of the car and procede to the grades pick-up point I am bombarded by my friends, arms flung all over me, encircling and squeezing and groping and a whole miscellany of madness! I was somewhat worried for Fiona too, as she charged towards me. Her top being of such a low nature and her breasts being so bountiful in size I thought someone was going to be either heavily embaressed or lose an eye. Bless her.

I eventually beat my way through the crowd, grab my grades slips and am baffled and be-sorrowed by what lies within.

A B for physics module 5.
A C for physics module 6.
A B for physics overall.

I think to myself, "ohshitbuggerfuckshitbuggerarsewankcock!" (in that precise order) and try very hard (and succeed) to fight back tears. It's ok, I can ring my universities and everything will be dandy. Ok, just breathe. Lets look at what else you got.

A D (!) in R.S. module 4.
A D (!!) in R.S. module 5.
An A (?!?) in R.S. module 6.
A C in R.S. overall.

What. Thefuck. How can I get straight Ds in the two easier modules and a nice, fat, middle of the road A in the hardest module of the bunch?! GTFO OCR! GTFO. Not to mention it seems my hopes of getting into uni are going down the pan.

And on to maths.

An A ( =D) in pure core 3.
A... D (D=) in pure core 4.
A B in maths overall.

This I can accept. Pure 4 was a bitch; everyone hated it, including the teachers. The overall grade is acceptable too, as this is what my university asked for.

So, that's it, I can't get into either of my choices. Both asked for an ABB, with an A in physics. Oh dear God, I think I'm gonna hurl.

Commiserations from teachers and advice all 'round.

We rush home, I jump on the phone to York admissions to find it engaged. I keep redialling. I get through.

It turns out I had an unconditional offer at York anyway.

Jesus-fuckin'-Christ. All that worrying for nothing? I hate school life.

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But this has raised some important issues for me. As a result of getting into York without the grades I should have I ought to feel elated. I don't. I feel cheated and empty, and I don't like it. I appreciate the fact that I did work hard for these and I'm getting a break here, but it's a break I didn't deserve!

I won't deny that I'm a lucky guy. I have a wonderful family, I could want for next to nothing and I always get the break I need. For once, I don't want it. I wanted to be reprimanded for failing to reach the hurdles I was set, to know how it stings, to have the time to reconsider my life, maybe get a job and know what it's like to work really hard for what you get.

Everyone keeps shaking my hand. My parents gave me £50 for getting this far. My grandparents gave me £100. I feel like an asshole. For me an A is the only grade worth getting and anything less is failure. Yes, it's a high standard, but one I thought I could live upto. I just feel very uncomfortable about this whole thing. Infact, I feel ashamed. I don't think I've ever felt ashamed of myself before in my whole life. Yes, I've felt a bit of a cock, I've felt compassion for people I've hurt, but I've never felt shame for anything I've done until now.

I need a drink.