Last Academic year I ended up doing a course I didn’t want to do. I guess I didn’t take it too well. Read and see what I mean:
So, guess what. I have to do a few more courses before my degree at the University of the West Indies, Cave Hill Campus is complete. Great. One of those courses, however, is History of West Indies Cricket Since 1870. Now, the significance of that is as follows:
1. I hate cricket.
There is no middle ground for this. I despise the damned game, it makes me physically ill. When the test matches used to be televised on tv replacing shows I waited all week to watch, I felt not only betrayed, but weakened, like Superman and Kryptonite, is Yours Truly and Cricket.
2. I dislike Hilary Beckles
The connection: he championed this course and developed it to be added to the course list of Level III (Final Year) History. Now, from previous posts you may discover I am not a fan of this individual so anything he pioneered I tend to shy away from, but now I have no choice.
3. The lecturer
“God bless David!” As my fore-citizens would say. I can’t believe they found one of if not THE most boring History lecturers to teach the course. It is like they planned how to get me from the beginning, the bitches.
What does all this have to do with my title you might ask, well I’ll tell you! I was planning a little trip, an excursion if you will, to the North of the island. I would be wearing my finery, annointed in my favourite cologne, walk with the iPod nano and fling myself off North Point and hopefully either bash in my head on a rock and die instantly, or *SPLOOSH* into the ocean and have the water fill my lungs and die instantly. Whatever happens, I was just hoping not to land in a rogue sand dune and cushion my blow, for climbing back up to try again would ruin the poetry of it all!
Anyway, the sun has set so the mood has passed. I live to moan another day.