One additional year of study. Three months of intense revision. Countless early starts. Frantic days of worry. A miasma of guilty feelings. Endless late nights. One suppressed social life. This is: Japanese Language Proficiency Test 2009.

As you all know, the build up to December 6th 2009 had been traumatic to say the least. When it came to it, there were no drums, nor were their hordes of tribesmen attempting to induct me into their crazy JLPT Sect, but what there was instead was a whole load of worry, an incessant smattering of rain, two crazy Americans, a late train, a complete lack of geographical awareness, a crazy invigilator, and a whole load of people looking a million times more nervous than myself. (I think that’s a good thing, but it depends on how you look at it, right?)

It all started at half seven in the morning. I base myself in Manchester, and there’s only one JLPT test site in the UK, at the School for Oriental and African Studies, University of London. It’s a trek, and one that I could have done without, but to not make it to the test site now was to fall at the penultimate hurdle, and that was not about to happen to me. So, there I was, rain battered and shivering from the subterranean Manchester air, crossing town for Piccadilly Station (Manchester, like many cities, has this obsession with naming buildings and places after things that originally occurred in London. You’ll also happen across New Islington, Shudehill and Oxford Road.) At this point, the test couldn’t have been further away in my mind than where it was, nestled secretively behind both an ever-increasing desire to live somewhere that isn’t so bloody cold, and a need for some breakfast: fast.

The train journey was a nightmare. The British are supposed to be good at trains: we invented it for Christ sake. However, over the years it would seem that that message has been lost in translation somewhere, and now we have this pathetic ‘service’ that dwindles along as if somebody slowed down the tape by about x32 and then forgot to press ‘normal’ again. Honestly. The train left at the right time, hell it even went fast for a while, in my opinion (though I know nothing about how fast trains can go, so it could have been a relative snail pace for all I know), but we got to the lovely Milton Keynes (and yes people, it is as awful as it sounds), and the train decidedly slowed down. Well, if I’m honest, it stopped. For. Ever. A rather jovial ‘train manager’ came over the intercom: “I would like to report that due to engineering works…” I mean, he needn’t have gone any further. Like the Japanese when they’re making excuses, he should have stopped at ちょっと… and left it at that, but no, he had to go on: “…we will have to take the slow line…” (Now, if anybody can tell me what the difference between a slow line and what I presume must be a fast line is, then I’d love to know.) He continues with: “This service was due to arrive at London…” By this point, I’m terrified. Nauseated. Having a seizure. My brain is shouting: ‘You know what the trains are like in this country, so why in the name of God did you not think about it more sensibly and ensure that you were in London a lot earlier? I mean, it’s not like you need to get there for anything important or anything, is it?!’ “…at 12:30, but we will now be delayed by approximately half an hour. We apologise…” Blah, blah, blah.

Once I’d picked myself up off the floor, wiped the perspiration from my brow and begun to breath at a normal pace once more, I realised that though the ‘train manager’ had never actually mentioned it (we British are the masters at being noncommittal, you see, it’s the reason why we’ve got away with invading so many people’s countries…), the train would be likely to arrive at 13:00. Well that’s great, I thought, the exam starts at 13:30… Suddenly, everything went black again.

Not having enough to contend with already, fate decided to throw two Americans into the mix. Before I get a million and one complaints, there is nothing wrong with Americans per se, just that when you’ve had the journey from hell, the last thing you want to find in your dinner is a couple of people who have come halfway round the earth specifically to visit Britain, only for them to blab on about what a wonderful place it is, how laid back it is compared to the US, and how ‘quaint’ and ‘dinky’ everything looks. Had I not have been half comatose to start with, I may have not been responsible for my actions…

Arriving into Euston at 13:01 (typical), I realised that to make it to the test centre in time, I was going to have to launch myself at London like never before. You see, for those of you who have never been to London, ‘launching’ is probably not the best mode of transport. In fact, the only thing that can effectively circumnavigate you through the abhorrent roads of fair, old London Town is not to go there at all. Ever. But, if you do find yourself crossing England, and you suddenly get the urge to visit London Bridge, or ‘wouldn’t it be nice to see Buckingham Palace before we leave, dear?’ then don’t. You have been warned. You will miss your flight, or connecting train (if it arrives on time, obviously) and will undoubtedly spend the majority of your time squashed into the back of a ‘quintessentially British’ (and ridiculously too small) black cab being herded nowhere at a very slow pace while the taxi driver laughs with abundant amounts of mirth to himself and mutters: ‘more bloody tourists’ under his breath.

Stepping out of Euston Station and into the freezing cold of London, I came to the same conclusion that I have come to a million times before: without my iPhone, I would be lost. And indeed, that was exactly what I was. Not having the first clue how to get myself to the test site, I bashed in the postcode and it was at exactly at that point that the battery decided to give way on me… Finally, after much frantic questioning of random passersby, I managed to locate the test site and get myself there…at 13:25.

I can’t stand being late for anything. I really hate it when you’re just starting a meeting and somebody who has been outside the room on the phone for the last hour finally decides to barge in. Or when you’re at the theatre and you realise that you’re sat next to an empty chair; you can guarantee that five minutes into it the erroneous person will want to squeeze past you, causing all kinds of havoc in his path. Or when you’re about to take a test, the invigilator has started to read out the instructions, and the last candidate comes careering through the doorway and calls halt to the entire proceedings; believe you me, I felt like a Pratt.

Having been greeted with the frostiest of frosty receptions, from both invigilator and my fellow candidates, I managed to settle myself down without too much more fuss. Having had all this trauma to deal with though, I had completely forgotten that in fact I was about to sit the JLPT, that the whole point I had been forcing myself through this seemingly real-life Carry On movie was that actually, I was here to do a really important thing. And when that ton of realisation came crashing onto my shoulders, suddenly, as I’m sure you can imagine, all my previous problems had become eclipsed.

For those of you not accustomed to the logistics of the JLPT, let me take a moment to explain. At present, the test is divided into three sections: writing/vocab, listening and reading/grammar. Each section is timed, and has a certain amount of points associated with it. For JLPT2, you needed 60% to pass last year, so that was the figure that I was aiming at this year. There’s no speaking section (which some people state is one of the reasons why the JLPT is invalid in its application), however I was glad, as the state I was in when the invigilator called out: 「がんばってください」・ “Good luck”, I don’t think I could have uttered a single word.

For me, writing/vocab is probably the easiest section. Usually I would ask others whether they thought the same in the break between sections, however after the very heartfelt welcome I’d been greeted with at the top of the test, I decided that I would keep a pretty wide birth from the other candidates. In fact, I’m sure as I was getting a drink from the water fountain one candidate may have tried to trip me up, but that could have just been my brain recalling yet another instance of the day in disaster mode.

After writing, the listening section came round. At this point I was feeling pretty confident. I’d managed to churn out an answer to every question in the previous section, and not only that, but I was actually making myself believe that my answers could more or less all have been correct. As soon as the invigilator clicked ‘play’ on the CD player however, this feeling quickly evaporated and what was left behind was just a watermark of terror. To further install calamity into the moment, the invigilator had decided to release some of the warmth from the room in the break by opening the window. So, as the CD continued to play, so did the noise of passing cars along the road below. Oh, and a waste lorry that had come to pick up the bins, which just so happened to be right under the window. It wasn’t going well.

As the final section came along, I’d practically given up all hope. It is technically possible to pass the JLPT without answering a single question correctly in the listening, but my previous thoughts about being so successful in the first section had suddenly done a runner for the hills. I felt very alone as I went into the final section of the test.

Thankfully now however, it is all over. In all honesty, if I could have started the day again with the hindsight to realise that in fact it was going to be a travesty from start to finish, then I would probably right now still be in my house, having not left it for four days.

Truthfully though, I don’t think I’ve done that bad, and in fact earlier today whilst I was answering a couple of emails and catching up on Twitter, I began to feel quietly confident once again. It probably wasn’t half as bad as I’ve managed to portray here, but that wouldn’t be such a good story now, would it?

Psst: Remember to log into iTunes to get the latest episodes of RedBox. For more info, click here.

And finally: My next post will present you with the chance to win a rather lovely New Year Giveaway, so watch this space for that…

Podcast: Download (6.2MB)