Driving Test

Today I had my driving test, I don't think I have ever been more nervous. I slept so badly the night before, kept waking up with visions of failure, visions of success and visions of any possible outcome. I woke up at about 6.30 and had to read a book to calm my nerves, I rewoke at 8 when the good luck texts began flooding in. My instructor picked me up at 10 and we went over everything I could get in the test for an hour. My confidence grew, I made no mistakes and everything seemed to be going alright.

I parked myself in a bay near the test centre before popping into Burger King to go to the toilet. We both went into the test centre waiting room, over the next 10 minutes 3 other people joined us, they all had their instructors going over things to do, what not to do and such, mine sat there reading a car magazine, he was apparently that confident in me. All four learners sat there, feet tapping, quick breathing, awkward smiles. Eventually the examiners came to get us. Mine was called Paul, according to the doorman he is the strictest.

We got in the car, did the Show Me/Tell Me questions, I got one about rear foglights and one about the anti-lock braking system, good start! We drove off and headed for Rose Hill, at the massive junction in Sutton I came up against my first challenge, an ambulance, I pulled over for it. I hit the kerb. Disaster! It is over! I've failed in just 5 minutes! I kept going, put it out of my head. Rather annoyingly I was taken on an unfamiliar route around Rose Hill, I would have been amazing on the Cheam route.

I was given the manoeuvres Reverse Left and Parallel Park, my reverse left was alright but my parallel park was the best I have ever done. After spluttering through 40 minutes of assessed, silent driving (he did not respond to my humorous comments at all). We pulled up in a road and he looked at me. "You have passed" he said. My heart leapt, I almost replied "really? are you sure?" He took me through my minor faults (all 8 of them). My instructor took me back to school since I am no longer covered by his insurance. My girlfriend phoned me up, I do love her. I text my parents, they spread the word to the whole family. I wandered into school having missed a morning of Challenge of Management, wandered into the study room to find two groups doing a careerstart course, they all looked at me. I said "I only went and passed!" and they cheered and applauded, everyone made me feel so good.

Now I just need a car.

Goal line technology

As some of you may know I am a referee, I tend to go on about it a bit. I have my opinions on football and when voicing them I often say "trust me, I'm a referee." Today I had one of my best and longest rants concerning football and refereeing and for once I got the general agreement of those around me. I am talking about goal line technology.

What sparked this was the failure for the officials to notice that Frank Lampard's shot against Germany had crossed the line. I am not going to rant on about how it cost England the game or anything because frankly it is a scapegoat, we were comprehensively beaten by an obviously superior team. What I will complain about is the fact that Sepp Blatter (the FIFA president) is denying the use of goal line technology throughout the world but especially in the World Cup, the most prestigious and exciting sporting event in the world. His reasoning for not introducing it is that it will create a gap between the professional and amateur sides of football since lower levels of football will not have access to this technology. His way to beat this was to introduce two additional assistants to stand on the goal line to assess goal and penalty decisions. To put it bluntly, this is bollocks. As a referee in amateur football I know that it is often difficult to find two willing parents or spectators to take on the role of assistant referee, to find four would be near impossible. I have quite often had to referee games without assistants which is quite a challenge.

Technology has been introduced into the professional side of other sports for ages now. Rugby and cricket to name the biggest two. Amateur cricket and rugby still takes place all across the country with just the human officials and everything is fine.

Football is a billion pound industry, millions and millions can rest on one decision, the decision of three men who cannot possibly be everywhere. Any industry where this much money is dependent on people cannot possibly deny the need for technology.

I am not saying goal line technology would have saved England, I am saying it would save blushes, it would save the footballing world, it would save injustices and it would save angering an entire nation.

I hope you are reading this Sepp Blatter, you arrogant, self-involved, ignorant moron.

Special Bumper Edition

As I have not blogged for a few days now my biggest fan (follower) asked for a bumper edition, so be prepared for many of the rants and thoughts that have been building up in my head for the past few days.

I will start with one of the top news in the world of irritatingness, you guessed it, Vuvuzelas. Whatever moron thought it would be a good idea to bring them to football matches is in great need of a Vuvuzela up his backside, you may have noticed that they are excellently designed for this punishment - long, straight and broadening. They make a horrible noise and it is a constant monotonous drone before the match, during the match and after the match, there is no change in atmosphere when a goal is scored, a decision is made or any kind of scoring chance, it just stays as that horrible noise. FIFA have said they will ban them if one of them gets thrown onto the pitch. I have decided I am willing to travel to South Africa, buy a Vuvuzela, throw it at the referee, possibly getting banned from any football match or even killed just to shut them up, I will be a martyr. A number of people have commented upon them. Chris Evans got in a bit of trouble for retweeting a so called "distasteful" joke. I found it quite funny - "Honestly, you give Africans £2 a month and they go and buy a bloody trumpet." Boris Johnson also made his opinion clear, claiming they were tremendous fun and easy to use but "not for the Olympics I think."

This week I noticed the change in emotions as we get further away from the England vs USA match. I walked home with a friend and the whole country was depressed. I had a flag with me and before the game I had been passionately waving it, after it drooped down by my side. As the week went on people had ranted about Robert Green and then pretty much forgotten. I know that I have been getting happier all week which I am sure will be topped by spending tomorrow evening with my lovely girlfriend who I have not seen for AGES.

There was one exception to my happiness-time increase. This was Wednesday night. On Wednesday night I was trying to come up with a prefect timetable for next Tuesday. This is not easy on the best of days. This one was particularly difficult because I will not be there and neither will seven of my usual prefects, we are off to help on the Year 7 Challenge Day in London. This is also taking place on Monday so a few of Monday's prefects are away then. I am covering for another Senior prefect on Monday and he is covering for me on Tuesday. So far not too difficult. Problems started arising when I realised I was missing seven of my prefects and in their place I had been given two. This stress-fest caused a minor meltdown, oh the trials of responsibility.

Today at lunch I was once again called into duty (not on my duty day!) after a Year 10 was mugged right outside school. All Senior Prefects were mobilised (in my head by walkie-talkie "This is mother-goose, all SPs mobilise, repeat, all SPs mobilise, over" but in reality just by a teacher saying "I need to speak to all SPs") We were sent to stand on street corners, ushering students back into school whilst on the lookout for "a white man in his twenties, wearing a hoodie and sunglasses," one of the most vague descriptions ever. I loved the power though, I am like a grown up.

Yesterday I went to get my uniform fitted for work. I had given my measurement and was sent to the Gents with a shirt and trousers. Once I had changed and had a look in the mirror I was struck by the conundrum about whether to parade in front of the fitter and recruitment team. After much thinking I decided that I was not out shopping with my mum and that I am old enough to make a decision on my own. You should see the hat, I look great.

This took me ages, are you happy now?

Insects

I have nothing against insects, they don't freak me out or scare me but sometimes they really do irritate me. I was walking home with a friend from an end of exam celebration the other night and the amount of mindless creatures about was astonishing.

I will start with snails, has there ever been a more irritating creature, it is ugly, slimy and eats your plants? It was a fairly damp night and these little wastes of an animal had decided to crawl enmasse across the paths. All. The. Way. Home. Obviously I did not want to tread on these dimwitted molluscs (it would ruin my shoes) so I took extra care to navigate around them, not particularly easy when as inebriated as my companion and I were. Naturally there were some snail casualties, a loud crunch accompanied by a groan of irritation from one of us. Over the 20 minute walk I was responsible for the death of five to my companion's three. I must have bigger feet.

The other insect that irritates me is any little bastard that bites me and tries to suck my blood. Personally I am quite fond of my blood and I would prefer that it stays inside my body, I am not partial to the sharing of bodily fluids. I am aware I have quite a lot of blood and they only want to take a little bit but I disagree with this way of life. Would I kill a healthy individual to save the lives of many others with the healthy man's organs? No I would not so stop sucking my blood you little demons. I am prepared to give these insects one warning, if i feel a small pain in any part of my body that feels like an insect I will take a light swipe at that part of my body. If this does not deter the insects they will be immediatly destroyed, most likely by splattering, no messing about. One particular beast that tried sucking blood from my neck was thrown into the sink and drowned.

Irritating little buggers

The Final Stretch

Tomorrow I have my last two exams of the year. I can sense the freedom, no more slaving at my desk over notes, attempting practice papers or flicking through text books. No more facebook panic, totally unprepared people broadcasting their terror over the internet in an attempt for sympathy. The obvious solution is get off the computer and work or is there a new technique I am not yet aware of?

I will miss the CGP revision guides, they inject that little smile into revision. There was a little speech in the AS-Level chemistry book encouraging me not to give in to the dark side, may sound crap but I loved it. "Don't give up now. Only as a fully-trained Chemistry Jedi, with the force as your ally, can you take on the Examiner. If you quit now, if you choose the easy path as Vador did, all the marks you've fought for will be lost. Be strong. Don't give in to hate - that leads to the dark side." What other books would give a motivational speech?

Despite having two pretty horrible exams left I am feeling happy, my biology today went well and it has resulted in me being very happy, noticabely so. Just imagine how I will be tomorrow!

Good luck to anyone still going.

Voice Control

I was in the garden today with my headphones in, listening to my ipod. My ipod has a voice control feature, I can tell it to play a certain song, artist or album or tell it to tell me what song I am listening too. This sounds extremely impressive at first but once you have used it once or twice it becomes a pain.

The first problem is the recognition, you have to speak in a robotic voice, speaking phonetically so it can pick up every word. I said "play songs by The Buzzcocks" the ipod beeped before replying with "now playing songs by Foals". It doesn't take a linguist to realise that The Buzzcocks and Foals could not sound more different. After another unsuccessful attempt, I took the ipod out of my pocket and selected songs manually. This took less time and was much easier.

The second problem is how ridiculous I would look talking to my ipod in public, saying "Who sings this?" or robotically demanding that songs by Queen are played next into the tiny microphone attached to the headphone makes me look like an escaped lunatic. This is alright in private but I use my headphones predominantly in public, crowded buses and trains especially. I have no desire for strangers to think I am mad, I have to see a lot of them every day. Again, in this situation I just take the ipod out and do everything manually.

Obviously this technology needs to go through these stages in order to progress but it should not be advertised as the best thing since sliced bread at these early stages. Come back to me when I can tell my oven what I want for dinner.

Getting the train

Yesterday involved a lot of train travel, lots of changes and lots of encounters with the lovely and not so lovely people you find dotted around London.





I will start with a lovely encounter. It started as one of those awkward moments when you realise a baby is looking at you and making noises to get your attention. I smiled at this baby and received a massive grin in response. This is just the first stage of baby-adult interaction. I then completely subconsciously began to pull funny faces, again to the great amusement of the baby. I stuck my tongue out, darted my eyes about and many peculiar shapes with my mouth. The response was laughter and what looked like an attempt to imitate my lunacy. It was then that I caught the eye of the baby's dad, including an embarrassed smile that said "Yes I am pulling faces at your child, is that a problem?" When they both got off the train it occurred to me how socially unnacceptable it is to pull faces at people on the train but how normal it seems to do it to a baby. I would love to be able to catch the eye of a man in a suit, a woman with her shopping etc and start pulling faces with them, it would make train journeys so much happier.

When getting off a train I placed myself next to the door-opening button. As we approached the station a few people gathered behind me to get off with me. It then dawned on me that I was in a position of power, and with great power comes great responsibility, every one of them now expects and trusts me to open the door when the train comes to a standstill, it was now my duty to open the door and allow these people to get on with their lives. Only once have I seen a man fail at this mighty duty, he was stood by the only button and failed to respond to the orange lights flashing. You could feel the tension around him, he just stood there. After several nervous seconds I brought it upon myself to relieve him of his power and leant past him to press his button. He was very apologetic and I banished him from my door opening kingdom
(in my head) before getting off myself.

You get much less likeable people on public transport, earlier this week I had my back stroked by a rather drunk and scruffy man while getting on a tube train, I was not too worried though, I could have " 'ad 'im" and I was surrounded by friends to back me up. The tube seems to be a breeding ground for miserable people, I get irritated with a lot of things in life but never enough to shout at a stranger. At Waterloo station a man failed to get off the train in the unspoken agreed getting off time and as people started getting on he said in a quiet but incredibly angry voice "Let passengers off first please!" A woman immediatly responded with the piercing, witty comeback of "You don't have to be so rude to my face!" I however took the true Londoner approach and silently said "dickhead" under my breath. I was relieved at the fact that despite me getting irritated at little things, I will never be angry or horrible enough to shout at a stranger.

I love the train.

World Cup Fever

With the World Cup in South Africa just over a week away World Cup fever is gripping the country. You cannot enter a shop without being bombarded with England merchandise to hang out of your window, stick on your wall, paint on your face, display on your car or just about any other possibility conceivable. I cannot tell you how much I love this, the arguments with my friends about how the referee "handed Chelsea the win" or "totally screwed Arsenal over" will come to an end, for once all fans are united together to support the national team. We share the joy of that last minute goal, multiply the anger towards "that outrageous decision" and shed a national tear when England are inevitably knocked out.

Not only does the World Cup bring football fans together, it pulls in all the borderline fans and even those who aren't remotely interested in football. They don't quite share the full emotion of the event but they are still happy when England win, annoyed at the opposition player who dives and sad when things go wrong. My sister for one enjoys the atmosphere, she will undoubtedly have a St George's Cross painted on her face at some point in the next month.

All year I have been saying I won't get to into this World Cup to save myself from the heartbreak when the worst happens, but just yesterday I found myself purchasing an England top (not a replica shirt - I'm not a millionaire) to wear to show my support. I have been completely sucked in, even the con that is the Panini World Cup sticker album has got me. I am 17 years old and as soon as a World Cup comes along I am back to being a child: collecting stickers, putting on my new shirt for every England match, hugging my dad/brother/friends when England win, making excuses when something goes wrong and violently kicking an inanimate object when England lose, followed by wimpering about my sore foot for the rest of the day.

Thinking about it, however England do I will enjoy the next month, I can share emotions, swap my sticker doubles, cheer on my sweepstake team (Denmark) and act like a child. My hopes aren't high but COME ON ENGLAND!!

Twitter Abuse

I use Twitter, you could say I am a twitterer, a twit or even a twat, this does not bother me. I find it useful for keeping up with my favourite comedians and musicians, not to mention sharing jokes with friends in no more than 140 characters.

A lot of people call me a loser or sad git because of my allegiance to twitter but I don't mind, one of my close friends who led the charge in declaring me as as a twit/twat signed up and frequently uses twitter himself.

It was today I realised I can not quite vent my petty furies with the world in just 140 characters, no matter how hard I try which is why I am writing this.

There is a function on twitter known as the "Retweet" (known as an RT to those who understand twitter jargon). People can "RT" what other people have said if they find it interesting, enlightening, humerous or just agree with it to allow a wider audience to view it. It was today that a celebrity tweeted a little fact about patterns in time and date that will occur this year. This tweet was RTed by hundreds of dedicated followers so inevitably I eventually stumbled upon it. Within seconds of reading it I had found two major errors in his little "fact". I pointed this out to the friend of mine who had retweeted it and she was surprised to realise how foolish both mistakes were. Mistakes are irritating, people foolishly believing them without thinking is so much worse.

It then dawned upon me why people view twitter in such a negative light, the majority of people using it just mindlessly accept, obey and pass on whatever a vaguely famous person has said. I will be taking extra care to read through whatever I retweet in future.

This absence of independent thought is destroying the youth 140 characters at a time, this is truly, abuse of twitter.


N.B. I apologise for the lack of structure, as my address shows these are Irritated Mutterings, just snippets of anger from my head.