A Murder Mystery
Saturday night sees us celebrate Rob's birthday with a Murder Mystery Dinner. The scenario is 1930's India, with the characters being a motley crew of British Army Colonel's, Muslim playboys and Indian Independence activists. It is a boxed game, rather than one I've written myself. I've played four or five of these games now and they can go one of two ways: 1) Complete disasters as people drink too much and get confused about what's going on/fail to reveal their information correctly. 2) People get in character, stay sober and concentrate on the game, reveal what they need to and ask the right questions, resulting in a smooth evening.
Apart from the time Rob and I had to dress up in drag, most of our MMG's have ended up as disasters... I'm hoping that as three of the six won't be drinking more than a glass of wine, we'll be OK this time out.
I'm off to locate some props this afternoon: Stuffed tiger, croquet mallet (the murder weapon), Colonel's hat and false moustache, medals, books on the Boer War (Robin is playing a South African businessman/rugby player), blunderbuss, etc.
I have no doubt that it will be me who turns out to have done the dirty deed: caving the skull in of one of my officers... with a croquet mallet.
Friday, July 30, 2004
Thursday, July 29, 2004
For Whom the Bell Tolls: Exam Results
I've just received my exam results. The email, sent by the CIMA Doomgoblins and made of lead, arrived with the accompanying sound of the London Lloyds Bell announcing the tragic news that another ship had been lost to the cruel sea.
You may well remember that I came out of both exams feeling very upset and frustrated. I'd put in a lot of hardwork and feared my poor performances on the day had thoroughly rotted the fruits of my labours. I was expecting to be acutely embarrassed by the results -- I know what is expected of me in these exams now and have been predicting nothing more than a 30-35% score in both.
So imagine my surprise and shock at scoring 47% and 50%, meaning a near-miss in the Financial Strategy and a very important scraped pass in the Case Study.
I'm stunned and can only think that the exams must have been overly difficult and CIMA had to bump up the marks*. There is no way that I scored anywhere near those marks on the day.
Vic and I are going to get pissed on champagne tonight.
I didn't embarass myself!
I've only got one more of the friggin' things to pass!
Put out the bunting!
Roll on the November retake!
* CIMA claim that they don't do this, but we all know that they do really...
I've just received my exam results. The email, sent by the CIMA Doomgoblins and made of lead, arrived with the accompanying sound of the London Lloyds Bell announcing the tragic news that another ship had been lost to the cruel sea.
You may well remember that I came out of both exams feeling very upset and frustrated. I'd put in a lot of hardwork and feared my poor performances on the day had thoroughly rotted the fruits of my labours. I was expecting to be acutely embarrassed by the results -- I know what is expected of me in these exams now and have been predicting nothing more than a 30-35% score in both.
So imagine my surprise and shock at scoring 47% and 50%, meaning a near-miss in the Financial Strategy and a very important scraped pass in the Case Study.
I'm stunned and can only think that the exams must have been overly difficult and CIMA had to bump up the marks*. There is no way that I scored anywhere near those marks on the day.
Vic and I are going to get pissed on champagne tonight.
I didn't embarass myself!
I've only got one more of the friggin' things to pass!
Put out the bunting!
Roll on the November retake!
* CIMA claim that they don't do this, but we all know that they do really...
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
A Little Tip for You: Don't Point the Finger
My dad sliced the tip of his finger off yesterday with a pair of garden shears. He was pruning the waterlillies. Mum said she found the tip on the blades, looking like half a baked bean. The finger bled for England, so they visited the JR's A&E. Unfortunately the chopped off end was too small for them to sew back on, so dad will presumably have a stubby finger now for the rest of his years.
My dad sliced the tip of his finger off yesterday with a pair of garden shears. He was pruning the waterlillies. Mum said she found the tip on the blades, looking like half a baked bean. The finger bled for England, so they visited the JR's A&E. Unfortunately the chopped off end was too small for them to sew back on, so dad will presumably have a stubby finger now for the rest of his years.
