This gives me the feeling we might be here for some time...
Wow, today I think should just be given up on. I've already had to stop myself napping this afternoon, on account of the fact that I really ought to be working. I still have two sets of orals to write and coursework to finish, as well as rewriting and revisign various essays, notes and things, given that the teachers insist on repeating that there are 11 weeks left of term. I don't even want to think about the exams, because right now, I feel like I could cope, but in everything except French, that is unconfirmed. Although, Spanish, I should have gotten my mock result back today, except Mr B wasn't in, and English, my essays are getting better and we haven't done any mock papers. History, though... I got a C in my last timed essay...
Miss Jekyll was out today in History, so we had a lovely lesson, where we coloured in revision sheets, chatted about National Service and whether the same principle could be applied to Parliament, and I decided that the word ofpre-war was a word, because I cannot write properly, clearly. When we have lessons like that, I feel like it will just take a llittle bit more effort and I'll be off and running, but when Miss Hyde's out, it turns to utter despair and I often feel like walking out the classroom...
Essentially I'm skiving, but it's okay, because with Mr B away, I had no lessons after 11 o'clock - so I came home. I 'can work better at home', excepting of course the fact that I've done nothing since I got home. I'll work after tea, or tomorrow...
I'm exhausted.
Last night's trip to Somerset was fun. I, like the sad geek that I am, thoroughly enjoyed sitting on my own for the two and a bit hours it took us to get down. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's that awkward small talk that people make in cars and coaches, where you have to ration interesting topics for a long time, and you're never quite sure if it's rude to say 'I really just want to listen to music.' I stretched out and got on with my sonnet... I say it as though it should have a capital S, that it will be my masterwork, my concierto. It's an obstinate little thing, though... Good job I'm a literature sadist.
I need to get a hair cut soon, I notice, looking at my split ends. Also, since Christmas, my hair has grown a whole inch, which has really thrown off the whole bob idea.
Anyway, last night. Another performance from the Amazing, the Wonderful, the Hyperactive Metabolism! *applause*
I cannot believe how much rubbish teenage girls can eat and get away with... Paris Hilton would have a breakdown. Have to say though, those chips were the best I've had in a while - I love when the first chip is so hot you can still feel it all the way down in your stomach, radiating its heat like a little edible hot brick. The faces W and R pulled!
Oh, and the play was okay, for an amateur production of an obscurely drab play. The characters tripped over their lines more often than not, and since the first three rows all had their school-issued scripts in front of them, I really felt sorry for them; that pressure must have been terrible. The dry ice didn't help things, I have to say, nor the role of the strapping young boy being played by a gaunt, middle-aged man with hair seasoned enough to provide the salt for the chips of the entire school group, and pepper for those... who wanted pepper. And the highlight of the show for most was probably the exposure of Ralph's rather unattractive buttocks in the bath scene. Brave, brave man, is all I can say. Oh, and special mention must go to the make-up department for their realistic fake blood, and the bright blue lips of the dead. Hm.
But no, for all my criticism, the play was a success in bringing together all the little scenes we'd voice acted in class (poorly, and with little or no feeling, might I add?). I am undoubtedly the best stage direction reader you've ever heard: 'Lights up on the stall at dawn. May is sitting...' In my best ringleader voice :)
After the play, we just jumped back on the coach - C and I walked back from the theatre together, talking - thanks, guys, for the mature wolfwhistles - don't think I didn't hear them, or note them for future revenge (*Paddington*) - we've been over this before.
I tried my best to sleep, but just ended up sat for two hours with my eyes closed, thinking-ish. I don't think asleep people can text half as much as I did, both to W to keep myself entertained, and to my mother to keep her updated on traffic and proximity to school and I believe, to keep her awake to pick me up!
Arrived back at school about quarter to one, exhausted but chipper (Why am I always so chipper these days? I woke up this morning smiling, and wore colour to school - what's wrong with me? Haha.) and got the lowdown from the Spanish trip meeting I missed. I'm still not entirely sure when it is - and I need to get the day off work! I can't wait to pack (out comes yet another facet of my nerdity) but I'm concerned that I might have to share a room with a Year Ten... And there will be literally no-one to hang out with.... Unless we three sixth-formers mysteriously bond over tapas....
I still haven't sent off my driving licence application. Which I should do.
Aw, the best part of next week will be the salsa dancing we're taking up for Comic Relief. I'll be dancing with TC (Tall C), W's brother :) Should be fun, I haven't tried salsa yet, so I don't know how good I'll be at it, compared to the waltz and things, slower dances which I can manage. I wish there were ballroom lessons closer to home than Big Town, and boys interested; I would love to restart lessons. Maybe I should look up some steps now and give it a bit of a practice. Whether we're any good or not, the sight of 14 sixteen and seventeen year olds forced to dance together, fast, shoukd be well worth the donation!
I apologise for the long long post, and, well, am leaving.
Over and out.
Miss Jekyll was out today in History, so we had a lovely lesson, where we coloured in revision sheets, chatted about National Service and whether the same principle could be applied to Parliament, and I decided that the word ofpre-war was a word, because I cannot write properly, clearly. When we have lessons like that, I feel like it will just take a llittle bit more effort and I'll be off and running, but when Miss Hyde's out, it turns to utter despair and I often feel like walking out the classroom...
Essentially I'm skiving, but it's okay, because with Mr B away, I had no lessons after 11 o'clock - so I came home. I 'can work better at home', excepting of course the fact that I've done nothing since I got home. I'll work after tea, or tomorrow...
I'm exhausted.
Last night's trip to Somerset was fun. I, like the sad geek that I am, thoroughly enjoyed sitting on my own for the two and a bit hours it took us to get down. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's that awkward small talk that people make in cars and coaches, where you have to ration interesting topics for a long time, and you're never quite sure if it's rude to say 'I really just want to listen to music.' I stretched out and got on with my sonnet... I say it as though it should have a capital S, that it will be my masterwork, my concierto. It's an obstinate little thing, though... Good job I'm a literature sadist.
I need to get a hair cut soon, I notice, looking at my split ends. Also, since Christmas, my hair has grown a whole inch, which has really thrown off the whole bob idea.
Anyway, last night. Another performance from the Amazing, the Wonderful, the Hyperactive Metabolism! *applause*
I cannot believe how much rubbish teenage girls can eat and get away with... Paris Hilton would have a breakdown. Have to say though, those chips were the best I've had in a while - I love when the first chip is so hot you can still feel it all the way down in your stomach, radiating its heat like a little edible hot brick. The faces W and R pulled!
Oh, and the play was okay, for an amateur production of an obscurely drab play. The characters tripped over their lines more often than not, and since the first three rows all had their school-issued scripts in front of them, I really felt sorry for them; that pressure must have been terrible. The dry ice didn't help things, I have to say, nor the role of the strapping young boy being played by a gaunt, middle-aged man with hair seasoned enough to provide the salt for the chips of the entire school group, and pepper for those... who wanted pepper. And the highlight of the show for most was probably the exposure of Ralph's rather unattractive buttocks in the bath scene. Brave, brave man, is all I can say. Oh, and special mention must go to the make-up department for their realistic fake blood, and the bright blue lips of the dead. Hm.
But no, for all my criticism, the play was a success in bringing together all the little scenes we'd voice acted in class (poorly, and with little or no feeling, might I add?). I am undoubtedly the best stage direction reader you've ever heard: 'Lights up on the stall at dawn. May is sitting...' In my best ringleader voice :)
After the play, we just jumped back on the coach - C and I walked back from the theatre together, talking - thanks, guys, for the mature wolfwhistles - don't think I didn't hear them, or note them for future revenge (*Paddington*) - we've been over this before.
I tried my best to sleep, but just ended up sat for two hours with my eyes closed, thinking-ish. I don't think asleep people can text half as much as I did, both to W to keep myself entertained, and to my mother to keep her updated on traffic and proximity to school and I believe, to keep her awake to pick me up!
Arrived back at school about quarter to one, exhausted but chipper (Why am I always so chipper these days? I woke up this morning smiling, and wore colour to school - what's wrong with me? Haha.) and got the lowdown from the Spanish trip meeting I missed. I'm still not entirely sure when it is - and I need to get the day off work! I can't wait to pack (out comes yet another facet of my nerdity) but I'm concerned that I might have to share a room with a Year Ten... And there will be literally no-one to hang out with.... Unless we three sixth-formers mysteriously bond over tapas....
I still haven't sent off my driving licence application. Which I should do.
Aw, the best part of next week will be the salsa dancing we're taking up for Comic Relief. I'll be dancing with TC (Tall C), W's brother :) Should be fun, I haven't tried salsa yet, so I don't know how good I'll be at it, compared to the waltz and things, slower dances which I can manage. I wish there were ballroom lessons closer to home than Big Town, and boys interested; I would love to restart lessons. Maybe I should look up some steps now and give it a bit of a practice. Whether we're any good or not, the sight of 14 sixteen and seventeen year olds forced to dance together, fast, shoukd be well worth the donation!
I apologise for the long long post, and, well, am leaving.
Over and out.