Back by popular demand..

Well if a "what's happened to the blog??" from your mum counts that is.   I 'm sure the rest of you have missed me also but are way too polite to complain.

Today was another Kaplan day and it would be remiss of me not to mention the hideous Jerry Springer like train conversation I was subjected to.  Not a conversation with myself I might add, just a woman on her mobile telephone who appeared oblivious to the fact that, in a relatively quiet environment, her revolting yakk was reverberating around the ears of every other passenger in the carriage.  And the subject, mortifyingly, was her twelve year old daughters new-found menstruating experience.  What the heck was she thinking??  Whining on at the top of her voice about the terrible week she had been subjected to - apparently her child has suffered prolonged extensive bleeding combined with a resulting psychological trauma resulting in a visit to the doctors and a prescription of the contraceptive pill, covertly referred to as " the medicine" by Madam-Crap-Mother-of-the-Year.    What kind of a subject is that for a filled to brimming train, and all at the top of her nasty wolverhampton accented voice?   I am inclined to think that the child's mental anguish was more likely unrelated to her period but rather to the mortifying knowledge that her mum was such a blabbermouth. 

And so I began the day sufficiently traumatised yet piously realising I was not such a failure of a parent after all.  A failure of an accountant though I am certain I shall become.  My head is still aching from the eight thousand accountancy framework statutes and verbatim memorisations of financial terms I am supposed to be learning in order to pass the exam.  I may as well take to the streets now and accept that my career lies more in the flesh type figure than the paper based ones, and £20 an hour may be slightly more achievable this way.

Truly the work has surpassed my brain capacity and is on a whole other level of difficulty rating.  As I cast my eyes about the classroom it did occur to me that in likelihood none of the other students will have had fifteen children in their home for the afternoon yesterday and eight overnight and therefore it was hardly surprising that my ability to concentrate was at a minimum.  I doubt the examiners will much care however about my inability to use the family planning clinic.

And so it is that I am very much thinking along the lines of c'est la vie.  There is only so much one can do after all.  And, according to the ladies from church who visited me this evening, the world is on its's way to a hideous and miserable end anyway so I question the advantage in studying atall.  If in five years time I shall find myself holed up in the utility room with four kids and only a months supply of sugar puffs, do I really need an accountancy qualification?  And is it a sensible objective to try and shed my weight??  Strikes me my time would be better used gorging on baked goods for the next six months, thus increasing my odds of survival.

So I return to the place from whence I started and to where I always arrive, which is WHAT ACTUALLY IS THE POINT?  I am starting to question this on a daily basis.  What is it that I am seeking, where is it that I am hoping to get to, and ultimately WHY?? 

And when you think along such deep lines as this, it makes the election face off tonight seem completely immaterial. 

The end is nigh my friends.

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