First Law Exam: Chaos, Christmas Pyjamas, and Criminal Law

 

Today marked a milestone: my first ever law exam, sat in a hall packed with hundreds of students.
Here in South Wales, beautiful sunny days are rare enough to be reported to the authorities — and today was one of them. So, it was with great reluctance that I pried myself away from the sunshine and drove to the University to tackle my Criminal Law paper.

I had spent weeks preparing: posters, tests, quizzes, mocks, and a mountain of reading material. And yet, that gut-wrenching anxiety still hit — the kind that only strikes when you're facing a blank sheet of paper in a room thick with collective panic.

The night before, I had planned everything like a well-oiled machine.
Sadly, the oil turned out to be water, and my perfectly crafted night turned into a patchwork quilt of broken sleep: five rounds of 40 minutes stitched together with sheer desperation.

First came the child-who-never-sleeps, refusing to surrender to bedtime — and, just to spice things up, treating us to both an asthma attack and an allergic reaction. Once he was finally dozing, the husband launched into a full-throttle tractor impersonation, snoring loud enough to threaten local wildlife.
Attempts to roll him over only made it louder — I feared for the neighbours, the pets, and the structural integrity of the house.

Eventually, I retreated downstairs to the sofa in search of a few crumbs of peace.
But within minutes, the non-sleeping child joined me, swiftly followed by my eldest daughter arriving home after a night shift.
By 1 a.m., I had maybe — generously — one hour of sleep under my belt.

Then, at 4 a.m., the dog exploded into frantic barking. My first thought? Intruder.
But no. Across the road, lying perfectly still, was my eldest son’s best friend.

I screamed for my husband. His response, in peak husband form:

"He’s probably drunk. Leave him."

The barking dog disagreed, and so did I.
Still wearing my Christmas pyjamas (it’s May soon — no judgment; they’re comfy), I ventured outside.
Yes, he was indeed drunk — heartbroken, weeping, and stranded. So there I was at 4:30 a.m., shepherding a sobbing 6-foot lad down the road like some kind of festive rescue elf.

Finally — finally — I laid my head on the pillow, wondering how two hours of "sleep" would be enough to write both an essay and a scenario question.

Somehow, I got up feeling... not terrible?
I dropped the teenager at school, walked to university, and arrived early enough to actually breathe.

The nervous energy among my fellow students was practically visible — like fog rolling in before a storm.
I found my seat, I found my calm, and I was deeply grateful for all the preparation I'd crammed into my frazzled brain.

Special shoutout to the student next to me who didn't bring a statute book because she had "memorised it all" — you, my friend, are a machine.

And now?
On to the next hurdle: the time-constrained assessment.

Watch this space...