When I failed my exams, we decided to order the papers to see where I went wrong. They arrived last Wednesday whilst I was enjoying a week in London, blissfully unaware of the utter drivel my parents were reading back at the ranch.
I saw them today. The most galling part of this whole thing is the marking. It’s incredibly sterile. No comments, no red ink. Just a number in the margin indicating how many marks I had gained for a question. How embarrassing…
The following is a brief conversation where I tried to lift my own spirits;
Mum: It’s not as bad as it could have been.
Me: No…
Mum: And at least you know where it all went to pot.
Me: True. And in any case, in opposite world this is all very good news!
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