I wish I could say I was tied up with something terribly exciting, like being stranded on the far side of the world because of the inconsiderate behaviour of Eyjafjallajokull, the volcano no one had heard of until last Thursday. But alas, I have no exciting tale to tell. I am one those people exempt from the chaos and madness taking place at every known station/airport/ferry port in Northern Europe. I am one who happens to be stranded on this fair and sunny isle for another reason: revision.
I can recall from the depths of my fuzzy and increasingly poor memory, a time when April and May were times of plentiful fun and frolics. To my seven year old self, April was the month of excessive amounts of chocolate. It also signified a change in school uniform; from dour, itchy forest-green pinafores, to light and airy summer dresses. Now it is overshadowed by the prospect of exams. I am hardly one to complain; I am an English student. The stereotype goes that we never do any work, our degrees are basically three years of working our way through a library at a leisurely pace.. and we all know it is just impossible to revise for English exams.
How I wish. I have spent the past week and a half slowly transforming myself into a wandering zombie, a living quote bank. I have developed chronic neck pain from hunching over the table for three hours plus a day, attempting to force information into the vacuous space that is my brain. What has made it even more galling is the weather: blinding sunlight, Facebook statuses full of 'BEAACH' talk, chavs walking around with no t-shirts on. Yes, summer is arriving in the eyes of the British public. And all I can sample of it is to take whiffs of fresh air a couple of times a day. Or even occasionally standing on the back-garden patio absorbing natural daylight and fresh air. Soon, I know, I will become allergic to sunlight. And all because I want to prove this year has not been a total write-off, and I can in fact perform under pressure.
Which leads me to another topical issue, away from my selfish ramblings. The country is supposedly 'alive' with 'election fever' as the tabloids are calling it. But we all know that the British idea of 'election fever' is sticking a placard in your bedroom window. Indeed, the most I've seen on a personal level is the rise of people joining various Facebook groups to alert their peers to their sudden political consciousness.
Yet the election has proved a welcome distraction from the toils of Henry IV Part I, I have to say. The leaders debate last week was so cringe-worthy and painful I had to turn it off after ten minutes: I was almost hypnotised by Gordon Brown's jowel movements, let alone that bizarre habit he has of sticking his tongue behind his teeth. And David missed his opportunity, as has been duly noted by now. But what was even more infuriating was the fact that people seem to like Nick Clegg all of a sudden - because he exuded an easy charisma, because he didn't take too well to Gordon attempting to cosy up to him with lines such as "I agree with Nick on this one..". Is this how shallow politics have become? So much is based on good PR and the appearance of a leader in the first ever UK TV debate? Of course, the debate was important in bringing life back into politics, after a pretty horrendous few years under tired old Labour, let's be honest. I think the MP's scandal alone was enough for people to decide "I needn't waste my time in voting for a bunch of frauds who are all the same".
What is clear is that Britain needs a change in government as badly as I need my fresh air and sunlight - indeed, perhaps even as badly as the airlines need an ash-free atmosphere..
