Once upon a time, a young man from Kent screwed up his life and went to study for a Higher National Diploma in Sunny Sunderland. A city in the far north of his country that had a reputation for being slightly on the dodgy side
In the same way that the sky was slightly above the sea
And he spent a year floating though the HND, and came out of the end of it with a semi-respectable mark for not really trying
And so, disillusioned with the bureaucracy that surrounded the school of Computing, he went back for another year, and drifted once again though the first semester. Before running up against a fairly solid brick wall. He had drifted though too many lectures, and now didn’t know how to do the assignment.
A half-arsed attempt to do so resulted in a message that if he ever handed in something with that poor presentation again, he would fail the assignment. This he conceeded, and set about doing the next assignment.
And didn’t do it
And, in fact, failed to do a single assignment for that module for the next six months, placing all his eggs into the final exam, and not really sure that he could still pass the module if he didn’t do the assignments.
And so, he entered the exam, and exited a half hour later. And then, three months down the line, finally got the result for said exam.
He had passed anyway
Which only goes to show, that hard work may never have killed anyone, but there is always another chance.
Today, I feel so jammy it’s untrue. I got a 6 for that module. Out of 16. 5 is a fail.
I should say here I will “Never do that again“, but I try not to make promises I can’t keep.