Fractionally off...

Went for my maths test this afternoon. Must admit I was a tad grumpy, as it was boiling hot in tinyvillagebythesea and my new book was laid on the hammock, flipping its pages suggestively in the faint breeze. And I was sat, hunched over a level 3 maths book all morning. Looking confused.
After striding confidently (it's all bluff) into the wrong campus building I doubled back and arrived blotchy and panicky at the agreed meeting place where I hung around for ten minutes feeling sicker and sicker. Literacy test or numeracy test? asked the admin guy (note - cute, Christopher Eccleston lookeelikee, corphroaretc. Let's hope he likes ditzy women who count on their fingers.). Numeracy, I whispered, and followed him into an IT suite.

I need this maths thing to get into teacher training. I don't want to teach maths, I don't even want to teach a broad subject range, as I am intending to teach just English, and at a push psychology - why is it then, that I need to work out the volume of a cylinder? Convert decimals to fractions? What is the point?

I got 46.9% anyway, which is too low to qualify to take the intensive one week course which would get me the GCSE. I failed because I cannot work out volumes (except the one on my stereo) and I do not know what mean, median and something else means. If I knew what they meant, I wouldn't be sat there with three knuckle draggers . I can though still attend, and then go for an extra two evenings a week (like my life isn't shit enough already) until I reach the standard that the exam requires. That won't be too long, said Christopher Eccleston cheerily. Bless him.

At this rate, I shall be pensionable age before I qualify.

Leaving the car park, I leaned on my horn and made wanker symbols at a bloke that cut me up inadvertently. I need to find a better way to channel this energy.

Feeling better when I watch this.