When we were fifteen/sixteen it was hard to imagine we could feel any worse than when preparing for exams, sitting them, then living through a long lukewarm Summer to the eventual big day of exam results.
Then off we would traipse to the school with our shiny anticipation, convincing ourselves en route that talking to our mates for two years during Applied Physics and not applying ourselves to the subject (at all), would somehow produce an ‘A’ grade by the time we arrived at the school gates and its dreaded results board.
Not for us the leisure of getting our results on state-of-the art laptops, drinking hot Ribena in our PJs waiting for the exams results to wing themselves to our screens on the airwaves of our hopes. No, we clawed to the front of the results queue elbowing sweaty and nervous teachers out of our way to have our fate confirmed. That’s if some git didn’t get their results beforehand then saw fit to blurt out everyone else’s.
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