June 9 (Wednesday): I awaken in hell, this could be Cambodia. It is 5 AM and it has never been warmer in such low hour. I awaken with a right eye migraine, it feels like my eye is going to pop and explode. I check my right ear, I cannot hear from it. What have they done to me? I decide, times being what they are, grin and bare it and attempt some kind of order in this chaos (and LAST MINUTE REVISION!). Eventually I need a dump. I hit the toilet and the fucking overflow pipe falls off the cistern, no wonder I've been experiencing leakage. Water pisses over my bathroom floor and I panic. Today is a disaster. And that's not it, I head to my living room and the motherfucking fucking light bulb goes. I panic and pop too many vitamins and minerals, there must be quite the chemical and herbal imbalance in me today. I also pop three Pro Plus pep pills and started bouncing about the flat (those things actually work?). I panic to Sara via MSN and by the time I am leaving, I am nervously laughing about things (not least because my head is clearing up and my hearing coming back). And I could sense immediately a nice "against all odds" story was building.

Despite leaving later, today I get to Chelmsford earlier, actually being one of the first people there. Don't know why, the A12 wasn't any clearer and neither was I. I am so early in fact the study/revision CD/tape is still playing whilst I'm in the car park, not that I am taking any of it in. By nine I am listening to Moyles and he's making me laugh again today, I must appear to be a nutter. His tedious link is Setting Sun by the Chemical Brothers and that puts me in a better mood, so does the Scissor Sisters (Laura, ace tune). Again I swap texts with Phoebe and today she is the only person to wish me luck, points scored yesterday now are lost (yes I am that fickle). I am quite late getting into the exam hall, today I remember to have a piss before going in and I think I benefit by not seeing any familiar faces before going in (I remained focused and in the zone as a result, ha fucking ha). I take my seat and look around and watch as some people struggle to find their desks. This I don't understand, how the hell are they supposed to pass these difficult exams when they are too thick to find their desk, they're numbered sequentially surprisingly. And a difficult exam it is. The two compulsory questions are a nightmare and I make notes and quickly skim over them. The options are somewhat kinder (actually on topics I know and address at work!) but still my personal exam is top heavy on waffle (bullshit) and perhaps/probably too light on actual tax computation and figures. I punch my way out of a paper bag though but I have no idea on what the final result on this will be. All I know is that ACCA set a difficult exam.

As I emerge from the hall I again feel frazzled. I am relieved those are over so I celebrating by bombing home like a motherfucker down the A12, I love driving fast. And I love my car. I think Focus' are not only the natural heir to the ultimate Essex car the Escort but there is also an air of SUV wannabe to them, I genuinely think so both in the shape and the way they handle, it's a smooth comfortable ride (now hopefully Ford will read this and send me a new one). Within an hour of the exam's ending Phoebe texts me she rules. Chris also texts me to say someone has said he looks like Jude Law. You've seen my Blog, you've seen the picture, make up your own mind.

So, I hit Asda and encourage a post exam treat. I buy UEFA 2004 by EA for Playstation 2. Don't know how I'll play it though, I've currently dumped so much shit on my sofa I can't sit down or reach the Playstation. I also get the Curb Your Enthusiasm DVD, I want to be kranky but in a funnier way so I want to pick up some tips.

We play football at six and tonight there is no Stevo or Jimmy so it's just me and Ivan from the firm, which means we have ringers, which means better players. Hard game again, against Birkett Long. Inside the hall it is ridiculously hot and I am sweating buckets which is something I never do. I actually have a fairly good game and at half time it is the same old story of us being unable to score. I make the half time score 3-2 to them but Iran insists he has scored a hat-trick already and its 3-3. That'll do. Second half we have a good spell and after I drop a few clangers we find ourselves 7-5 up (not including the mysterious third goal Iran claimed). This is of course them without Jev on, who takes it easy and as soon as he comes on he thumps and soon they are right back in it, gradually turning the corner and taking the lead. Annoyingly I make some great saves but equally I let in a number of fucking stupid soft goals, usually from Jev. At the end of the game I make it 12-9 to them without the mysterious third first half goal. Inside the changing room the score line reaches 12-11. Ultimately again we should have won but everyone seemed to be having shooting nightmares and Andrew, back for his first game in about five weeks after breaking ribs, wasn't as usual. I now smell bad as my result.

Random thought: I fucking hate the fact that people have in the past accused me of being mean spirited just because I failed to compromise to their way of thinking/acting. Slimy fucks pointing fingers for not getting their ways.

OK, one bath later and both Syra and Azmei start texting me. Tit for tat, I think I piss Syra off when I make a similar kind of remark/swipe as her last week. And Azmei is kidding no one other than herself with regards to what she is doing, I quote.

Come 10.30 now in the evening and it is unendurably hot and I have drunk my flat dry. I fucking hate summer. Big Brother is on and Victor in the diary room is pure hip hop poetry. Obviously at first I thought he was an arrogant but the guy is hilarious, he can only be the adopted kid of a suburban white middle class family to be THAT poetic and rebellious. Sweet dreams chicken.

np: Beastie Boys - Pass The Mic