And we begin, with a funeral

Due to unfortunate timing, the release of the first post coincided with me getting some of my results (1st comprehensive examinations; school truly sucks). As some of the more astute readers may have deduced from the somewhat fatalistic tone of this post, I did not perform spectacularly well. Needless to say, I missed my father's target (and mind you, this is just in Maths) of minimum 90% by a hair; a 16.6% wide hair.

Maths, English, Economics, Sociology and EVE (i.e. 5 out of my 6 subjects): all exams in which I complacently assumed I would do well enough to sail through my father's expectations, which might or might not be high . Here, I must vehemently add that I am not (intentionally) belittling my father; nor am I implying that he can get tyrannical when I bring back a bad report card. No, I am merely saying that he is somewhat more active than my other relations in the matter of....... persuading me towards certain goals using certain methods all for my own benefit.

I picture his reaction, once I reveal the Shockers to him, to be somewhat like this:

For those who couldn't guess, that will be me on the right.

If I do survive the whirlwind of terror, you shall hear the reports of it from miles away.