I am still working on the BVC written exams and progress is painfully slow. I have chopped and changed my Opinion until it has lost what little flow it had in the first place. Today I intend to try and reach the finish of the first draft and will let it sit for a couple of days, before looking at it with a fresh set of eyes. Last night I read it out to Barman and was surprised that it sounded better than I thought, although it was repetitive in parts. The niggling feeling that I had about missing something obvious hasn't gone away and yesterday I spent a couple of hours perusing Chitty and Halsbury's to see if there was something that I'd forgotten - the search was futile, but the niggle remains.
The Drafting is on ice, as I came to a sticking point and decided to leave well alone for a few days before trying to work out where I'm going with my pleadings (nowhere fast probably:-)).
I dread the point at which I have to hand over my work and then the wait for weeks before discovering my mark. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick.
There are 4 other lots of homework to do - 2 lots of Advocacy prep and 2 lots of Negotiation plans. I will be lucky to finish the homework this month!
The options DVD lectures are handed out in February, I haven't heard whether or not I have been given the choices that I wanted. I also haven't had the MCT results yet, but I think that they are out in the next couple of weeks? Good time to join the Foreign Legion perhaps!
It was very frosty this morning and I had to take it steady with Bar-Os on the way to the paddock. He has got a little bored with the routine and stops dead at any given point, looks in the direction that he would prefer to go (he has a thing about gravel drives and always wants to walk up them and explore). This morning he decided that he wanted to have a walk around the snobby cul-de-sac and refused to move, standing on the spot staring into a little hankerchief garden and the kitchen window beyond. I pretended that I'd had to stop to faff about with something in my pocket. He has also developed a bum scratching fetish (a leftover from his skin condition) and turns his rather large backside around to be scratched. I haven't seen his face for weeks and it is only a matter of time, I fear, before I am hauled down to the police station to explain exactly why I always seem to have a horse's arse in my face:-)
Oh well, I can't delay it any longer, opinion writing here I come...


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