Failure to fly

So I took my FRCA postgraduate exam again yesterday.

It was my fourth and final attempt.

Since the end of 2005 I've spent more than £3000 on sitting the bloody thing (plus revision courses and two dozen textbooks). I've taken one stage of the two-part exam (either written or oral) every six weeks or so; each time I passed the written exam but then failed on one particular Viva (30-minute face-to-face interrogation with two examiners) so had to start again a few weeks later.

The first exam I sat yesterday was that same Viva. It did not go well at all - I came out of it thinking there might not even be any point in staying and doing the rest of the exam, it was that bad.

The other Viva was a bit hit-and-miss too, with one examiner repeatedly asking for more detail on topics I didn't really know much about. I couldn't have been more depressed when I went to the OSCE session (2-hour series of 5-minute stations testing various practical skills) in the afternoon.

Afterwards I just had to keep my mind occupied so I went into the British Museum, just around the corner from the Royal College where I'd taken the exam.

There I had my mp3 player on while I wandered zombie-like amongst the entire history of mankind. Enormous 3000 year-old ancient hand-carved statues & I'm shuffling miserably between them with high-volume random electropop in my ears. Fascinating relics from lost civilizations & I'm barely looking at them as I'm blasting my brain with noise just to stop myself thinking "I've failed. That's it. No career prospects."

It just wasn't working.

So I had a nap. On a table. At the British Museum.
(I'd woken up at 4am so I'm sure it's allowed)

When I woke up it was dark outside.

I went back to the Royal College to check the results board.


I passed.

I fucking passed.


So now I don't have to fly to Dublin on Monday to do the Irish equivalent exam. Drink anyone?