Revision - or re. vision

It’s time – I am now convinced – that I have to admit defeat and start wearing reading glasses. There’s no excuse really, I have two pairs. Personally I think they make me look like a prat, but one day I am going to look a bigger prat for not wearing them. It’s not that I am too vain to wear them, it’s more to do with being too idle to put them on and forgetting to put them in my bag. I tend to manage without them when I am out.

I’ve been revising like there is no tomorrow – well sort of. Clearly IF there was no tomorrow I wouldn’t be revising at all, I’d be eating as much chocolate as physically possible. I’ve even made a revision timetable. Basically I’ve gone through my calendar and written the word REVISE on every day. But after an entire weekend of reading and typing notes, my eyes have been red, puffy and sore.

OU can take over your life, especially at revision time when pre-exam desperation sets in. Occasionally though, it has to take a back-seat when life’s necessities take over – like yesterday. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do as much revision as I wanted, so I took a book with me to read on the train – and a highlighter pen. On the ‘out’ journey I had a disapproving woman sitting opposite me ‘tutting’ every single time I highlighted a key phrase or random word. It reached the stage where I was considering writing a rude comment across the top of the page and highlighting it. In the end, though, I didn’t. She looked like she had been a teacher in a previous life, so instead I chose to sit there, smirk and look out of the window – that is the general effect teachers have had on me over the years.

On the return journey the most irritating man in the world sat opposite me, he was up and down off his seat, kept walking up to one end of the carriage, and into the next one, and back again. I’ve always been easily distracted, and concentrating was impossible. The lid stayed firmly on my highlighter pen. I couldn’t be bothered to get the reading glasses out of the bottom of my bag, underneath my usual collection of essential items, purse, cagoule, pens, USB memory thingies, camera, spare batteries, MP3 player, and so on.

I just sat and read a few pages on British Cinema – a bit blurred because I couldn’t hold the book far enough away without invading someone else’s space. The moment I realised reading glasses have now become a necessity was when I read the words, “…as well as Glenda Jackson and Gemma Jones in supporting pants.” It was a couple more sentences before it filtered through my clogged-up revision-addled brain, and I said, (out loud), “Pants?” (it actually said ‘parts’). I completely lost it at that point and gladly packed the book away as we pulled into the station. I then walked off into the night, smirking.