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KINDS... ...We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it.
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A little bit of help from the big man upstairs…
To pass the knowledge you need to know your stuff and the last thing you can rely on is luck, you make your own luck, but sometimes it’s nice to get a break.
So, the night before my map test I had a little word with the big man upstairs. “If at all possible,” I asked. “Can you please give me some points around the London bridge area?” Everyone has strong areas and for me points around London Bridge seemed to have stuck.
I tried not to get nervous about taking the map test. I knew all the blue book runs inside out and people have told me, ‘get the runs right and you should pass’, and even though I had plenty of points under my belt, around 2,500 I still really concerned with what points I would have to place on the blank maps.
Worried about what points I might get I tried my best to remember any major points, as I drove from my house to Plasentra, on the day of the test, does that sound a bit desperate and last minute? One point I noticed was Altab Ali Park on Whitechapel Road and I thought if I get that point I’ll convert.
So, there I was sat in a room along with around twenty other grown men. Grown men who do exactly the same as me every waking day, left this, right that, forward, comply.
“You have an hour, gentlemen, please turn over your papers.”
I was going through the runs quite nicely, although one was giving me a problem, ‘Brownswood Road to West Hampstead Station’, I began to panic. I knew it, but my brain just didn’t want to give out the information. And then suddenly it clicked.
I found my way and off I went. Up Tollington Road, forward Camden Road and from there I successfully navigated my way to Kentish Town West. Phew, that was a relief.
Now, some of you may have noticed what I did, but for those of you that didn’t I went to Kentish Town West instead of West Hampstead, obviously getting confused with the word west. Did you notice that? Because I did, unfortunately I didn’t notice until about three hours after I’d taken the test.
I started to panic. God had come up trumps and I did get points given to me around London Bridge, which I rattled off, but like an idiot I had messed up one of the runs.
Before I had noticed my mistake I worked out from the runs and points I had placed that I was on for a score of between 68-72%, and I needed over 60% to pass, but now I was minus 8. There was nothing I could do but wait.
I got the letter containing my results the following Friday. I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want the bad news, I was expecting, to spoil my weekend and then without thinking I ripped it open to find that I had scrapped it, 60%, which meant I was now on 56s, bring it on.
I say bring it on like I have an aura of confidence, but I haven’t, I’m petrified.
To pass the knowledge you need to know your stuff and the last thing you can rely on is luck, you make your own luck, but sometimes it’s nice to get a break.
So, the night before my map test I had a little word with the big man upstairs. “If at all possible,” I asked. “Can you please give me some points around the London bridge area?” Everyone has strong areas and for me points around London Bridge seemed to have stuck.
I tried not to get nervous about taking the map test. I knew all the blue book runs inside out and people have told me, ‘get the runs right and you should pass’, and even though I had plenty of points under my belt, around 2,500 I still really concerned with what points I would have to place on the blank maps.
Worried about what points I might get I tried my best to remember any major points, as I drove from my house to Plasentra, on the day of the test, does that sound a bit desperate and last minute? One point I noticed was Altab Ali Park on Whitechapel Road and I thought if I get that point I’ll convert.
So, there I was sat in a room along with around twenty other grown men. Grown men who do exactly the same as me every waking day, left this, right that, forward, comply.
“You have an hour, gentlemen, please turn over your papers.”
I was going through the runs quite nicely, although one was giving me a problem, ‘Brownswood Road to West Hampstead Station’, I began to panic. I knew it, but my brain just didn’t want to give out the information. And then suddenly it clicked.
I found my way and off I went. Up Tollington Road, forward Camden Road and from there I successfully navigated my way to Kentish Town West. Phew, that was a relief.
Now, some of you may have noticed what I did, but for those of you that didn’t I went to Kentish Town West instead of West Hampstead, obviously getting confused with the word west. Did you notice that? Because I did, unfortunately I didn’t notice until about three hours after I’d taken the test.
I started to panic. God had come up trumps and I did get points given to me around London Bridge, which I rattled off, but like an idiot I had messed up one of the runs.
Before I had noticed my mistake I worked out from the runs and points I had placed that I was on for a score of between 68-72%, and I needed over 60% to pass, but now I was minus 8. There was nothing I could do but wait.
I got the letter containing my results the following Friday. I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want the bad news, I was expecting, to spoil my weekend and then without thinking I ripped it open to find that I had scrapped it, 60%, which meant I was now on 56s, bring it on.
I say bring it on like I have an aura of confidence, but I haven’t, I’m petrified.
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