Wednesday 28 May 2014

"Love isn't a feeling, it's an ability"

There are quite a few quotes you can lift from 'Dan In Real Life', almost all of which are vulnerable to the lethal blow of 'cheesy nonsense' that is ever hovering just beyond stage left. Fortunately my editor is away at the moment, being busily imaginary, and so I can just throw out quotes from little romantic movies without recourse to hiding under the desk or wearing the aluminium foil armour* designed to deflect patent cynicism. Anyway, love is both a feeling and an ability, inextricably linked and intertwined much like the snakes on the caduceus or the grand Gordian Knot. (See also: Ouroboros.)

<Blatant change of topic>

After a few days of intense gloominess only exacerbated by marking, it is time to cherish the freedom of being able to get down to some research! Oh, if only the absolute darkness of the glum could be averted always, and not just by carefully timed haircuts as in this case. For those interested, the Reverse Samson Hypothesis is still plausible.

Marking is such fun. Generally, it proceeds in the following manner for each script: You first look at the cover briefly to ascertain any pertinent details or clues about how capable the student was. If there's an extra booklet attached, your estimation goes up, as does the potential for endless reams of nonsense. If they're forgotten to put their ID number on the front, then hope takes a small beating until the contents are revealed. Upon opening the booklet the level of neatness or messiness of the workings gives you your first impression, which you then contrive to hold on to as long as possible if positive. If necessary you go away and have a long and comfortable bath just to avoid ruining the said positive impression a particularly neat exam has given you. Finally you go on and mark...

<Exact details of marking withheld due to squeamishness, wisdom, the rules, and a terrible memory. There was an atomic yo-yo and some screaming, which is all that is recalled.>

Upon completing marking, the marker usually has to unwind and forget about the whole process, if only to stop themselves from ripping up all the scripts and then throwing the shreds around the room in what is commonly referred to as 'Berzerker Assessment Fallout' (BAF). BAF was first identified and classified by Dr Lars Earbush in the early 1950s, in the aftermath of his being found hanging by his feet from a monorail in Seattle. Dr Earbush's subsequent studies resulted in no decisive conclusions whatsoever but did afford the dedicated academic and maker of plaster casts of balloon animals some much-needed respite. BAF has been estimated to last between five minutes and three days in most cases, and most conferences are designed to counteract any potential extended BAF by forced biscuit intakes at regular intervals.

Finally, after BAF has subsided, comes the exam board, whereupon the results of the exam and overall marks are considered carefully and then corrected to more accurately reflect the performance of the students. Such corrections range from the addition of a small raisin to their scores, to wholesale fabrication and then deportation of said class or lecturer to the Shetland Isles. In the latter case all concerned are awarded 10 extra marks on the condition they never show their faces again.

O.

* Said armour currently in patenting process.

PS Yes, the title was a decoy. Gotcha.

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