I don't know why it was, as I ate dinner last night, but in the middle of the morning, I started to feel my blood sugar drop. I hate that feeling; first I get a headache, then start to feel slightly dizzy, then feel like the whole world's about to collapse for no particular reason. Thankfully, Meg realised what was going on and with typical generosity, poured a bag of giant Smarties into my hands. I ate about five of them and felt them start to work. I love how quickly it happens. Apparently, sugar in it pure form will be aborbed into the blood in less than ten minutes.
Having decided I felt better, I took offence to the music on the radio, and stuck Becca's Tenacious D CD into the CD player. The reaction of the (few) people was interesting to watch as Fuck Her Gently came on. A few people were at D of E, because they're crazy (three days in a tent?!) so it was quiet. It was Emily's birthday, too. Becca enjoyed herself yelling, "Discreetly!" and "Zanzibar!"
Did I ever mention how much I love that song.
Becky O brought in one of her patented CDs - Hits 98 or something - which had all those old songs on. Stuff you thought you'd forgotten, like S Club 7, left over from younger days, but of course it had the added effect of being slightly depressing because as Becca and others said, it reminded people of those other people who are leaving us, and so soon, too.
At that reminscent point, Mrs Williams descended with our reports. We didn't have afternoon lessons, so I curled up in a chair reading Ben Elton's
Dead Famous and waited for my turn. She didn't have much to say to me. Apparently I have taken GCSE studies "in my stride." The one I was really interested in was Mrs Enstone's - "she writes with flair and lucidity" - and the others were all okay. Mrs Williams doesn't seem to think much of me, and oddly enough, I didn't get an E effort grade for Biology. I can live with this. As long as my English is better than Biology, I'll live. Becca suggested Tippexing out some of Mrs Leeder's comments. I almost took her up on that, but didn't.
I have to go in tomorrow, despite today being the last day. The drama make-up workshop, and seldom have I felt less enthusiasm for anything in my life. It's not that it will be awful, it's just that I do not care, and hasn't anyone every told them, I
don't do artistic!
No, I really don't. I have the creativity of a drowned piece of granite, and the artistic ability to match.
But no, I'm going in, and will have to dig out mufti. Come to think of it, three weeks of mufti ain't bad. Pedar was trying to tell me what a weird word "mufti" is. I don't agree, I like it. Seems to me, either people use it all the time or they've never heard it used before. It's a rather obscure word, I'm told, so I don't know why everyone
round here seems to use it.
The first thing they said in the afternoon assembly was "Baghdad has fallen." I haven't figured out what I think about that yet. Pedar got me a newspaper and said it would be a good idea to get something unhealthy for this afternoon. I proposed banoffee pie, knowing that he hates it, so we compromised with two cream slices and one small banoffee pie. I plan to eat it whilst going through the news of the day. And Pedar has also put together a provisional itinerary for me for June, and it seems I'll be spending three weeks in the country of the star-spangled banner. I don't know if my sense of irony will survive. Pedar said not to make any inflammatory remarks while I'm there, and try not to get lynched. I promised to try.
He's taken one look at my report, said, "I don't need to read this," and that's that.
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