Rising damp
Mar. 20th, 2003 05:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenI forgot my CD player today. Keeping myself amused is a much more difficult task sans angsty!rock. But there were compensations. As usual, I woke up not wanting to go to school at all.... took me about three hours to get over this feeling, during which I'd sat through an English lesson with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_detroit. She was scribbling over my anthology and I was sleeping on the desk. There was no sunlight in the room today. Usually the sun shines straight onto my desk, but the sky was bleak and grey and it was hard to tell where was the sun actually was in the sky. I would have slept straight through the lesson if Mrs Enstone hadn't attempted to read out Gujerati. Her pronunciation actually hurt me.
Drama involved more reading of Billy Liar. I haven't decided if I like this play or not yet. I prefer our devised drama; we've been given a derelict ex-nursing home to practise in. I kid you not. Stanfield have bought it and Mr Dunne has hijacked it. We went up there on Tuesday. The place is deserted, smells of rising damp, and all that's left inside it is a roll of toilet paper and a shovel. Libby claimed this was because they expected us to dig the latrine. But although the place is so dank and depressing, with decadeso-old tacky floral carpet and wallpaper, and more dead flies than you can fill a swimming pool with, it's so easy to forget it all when rehearsing. I mean, at present, our play is a bit crap, to be honest. But rehearsing it proved such a hilarious affair that I really and honestly forgot the smell and nursing-home depression. However, I wasn't afraid to drop crumbs from the jammy dodgers on the floor. I couldn't make things worse.
My parents are going out tonight. I think they're going to some thingit in the Bluecoat Chambers, meaning they'll have to go past Quiggins and my mother can freak out some more. Talking of Quiggins, Becca and me (andcucharita? _detroit? purplerainbow?) are going to the Bead Shop on Saturday, and I think Becca plans to take Emma to Subway. I'm all for it - I need a sandwich-fix.
But yeah... my parents are going out, cue peace and quiet for me, at least for tonight. I know my mother will be all floopy because the gates are still stuck open, but there aren't that many axe murderers in Formby. I'll live. And maybe do some coursework. Or write.
_detroit. She was scribbling over my anthology and I was sleeping on the desk. There was no sunlight in the room today. Usually the sun shines straight onto my desk, but the sky was bleak and grey and it was hard to tell where was the sun actually was in the sky. I would have slept straight through the lesson if Mrs Enstone hadn't attempted to read out Gujerati. Her pronunciation actually hurt me. Drama involved more reading of Billy Liar. I haven't decided if I like this play or not yet. I prefer our devised drama; we've been given a derelict ex-nursing home to practise in. I kid you not. Stanfield have bought it and Mr Dunne has hijacked it. We went up there on Tuesday. The place is deserted, smells of rising damp, and all that's left inside it is a roll of toilet paper and a shovel. Libby claimed this was because they expected us to dig the latrine. But although the place is so dank and depressing, with decadeso-old tacky floral carpet and wallpaper, and more dead flies than you can fill a swimming pool with, it's so easy to forget it all when rehearsing. I mean, at present, our play is a bit crap, to be honest. But rehearsing it proved such a hilarious affair that I really and honestly forgot the smell and nursing-home depression. However, I wasn't afraid to drop crumbs from the jammy dodgers on the floor. I couldn't make things worse.
My parents are going out tonight. I think they're going to some thingit in the Bluecoat Chambers, meaning they'll have to go past Quiggins and my mother can freak out some more. Talking of Quiggins, Becca and me (and
cucharita? _detroit? purplerainbow?) are going to the Bead Shop on Saturday, and I think Becca plans to take Emma to Subway. I'm all for it - I need a sandwich-fix.But yeah... my parents are going out, cue peace and quiet for me, at least for tonight. I know my mother will be all floopy because the gates are still stuck open, but there aren't that many axe murderers in Formby. I'll live. And maybe do some coursework. Or write.
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no subject
on 2003-03-20 10:00 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-03-20 10:05 am (UTC)I thought NOWHERE had worse weather than England. It's awful.
Re:
on 2003-03-20 10:26 am (UTC)I know, I know.
Re:
on 2003-03-20 10:27 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-03-20 10:39 am (UTC)Re:
on 2003-03-20 10:41 am (UTC)Re:
on 2003-03-20 10:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2003-03-21 05:33 am (UTC)I have no phone any more, but you can ring my home after ten tomorrow if you still want to meet up.
Or whatever...
Now, IT...
Re:
on 2003-03-21 09:13 am (UTC)