Ha fucking ha. My brains fell out my head the moment I sat down and three sets of eyes landed on me. My advanced years fell away and once again I was six years and being glared at by an ice-cold teacher/parent/school yard bully. I gabbled away at every answer, knowing full well that I wasn't answering anything properly. I could barely remember the beginning of each question, let alone find the required examples. I screwed up just like you do in those nightmares where you have to write an exam you haven't studied for, you're naked and you need to pee.
Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day eating chocolate, listening to the soundtrack of Only Lovers Left Alive over and over again and taking copious painkillers for my fucking sore foot that never seems to get better.
I am a writer. I write because I can't speak. Trying to live in the Real World and sounding intelligent in job interviews is nigh on impossible. I'm going to be putting books back on shelves for the rest of my goddamn life. Although it could be worse. It could be Tesco.