Thanks, Mrs. Jackson, King Eddies Rosehill, upper 6th circa 1999. How accurately you saw into my WSET study future.
I'd say the crumbling point was precisely the moment I threw Jancis Robinson's Wine Dictionary out the French windows in a dramatic, hormone filled, nappy encrusted, 'screw you' moment. Instant regret when the two year old (the reason all my study plans had gone down the proverbial) started parroting 'screw you Jancis' for the remainder of the day.
I mean 300 hours of study has got to be some sort of joke, right? I've covered this twice over and never felt ready. Those very same files in my brain have now been filed with new, more important information, like 'always remember to turn the fan off in son's room so he doesn't try and put his willy in it again' or 'exact calculations of wine I can drink X hours before breastfeeding' or 'when the f*** does Mr. B get home so I can go and hide in the garage'.
It all sounds terrible doesn't it? Well it's not, it's actually rather fulfilling. In a under-rested, over-milked sort of way; the way that clings onto every little nestle,every little 'You're quite nice Mummy', every little snotty,snorty giggle when trying to help wipe a bum/get X child dressed.
But here I am, digging out those damn notes. Wondering how I pour all this information back into my brain and find my own path again for when these little sleep invaders bugger off to school.
Any words of encouragement please?
WSET Diploma, YOU ARE MY NEMESIS.
(No wine reviews this week kiddos, Mummy has lost the plot).
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