French; and other things, besides

I am just about to spread my little birdy wings and soar. The sun is shining, the skies are blue, and my French oral is over! Thank you, everyone, who left those lovely messages of support - I was going to reply to them all last night, but LJ was being an arse.

And, the French. I went to the holding room at nine, missing most of my morning lessons, and they immediately sent me on a message because I was one of the few people with an oral after half past ten. I had to go the office so they would send a caretaker to fix the clock. Of course, on the morning of a GCSE exam, the clock would stop working. Fantastic. They stole one from ML4.

During the morning, I revised and panicked, and watched first Bev and then Becca go in, and at break they assured me it went fine. I was utterly freaking out, especially as like an idiot I lost my cue card and never found it. I had to make a new one with minutes to spare, then they sat me down with the role play and I knew what to write. I shivered a bit during my presentation, a little more during the questions, but the conversation, although sometimes a little shaky, went like a tape-recorded dream. The strange thing was, it didn't feel like six minutes, it felt like less. And when it finished she told me I did fine, I ambled out of there and over the quad, and I would have been whistling if I could.

I went to see _detroit before I went back to lessons, because I wanted someone to talk to and be happy. I still am, actually, despite the fact I had to do History and Drama and Maths and all of the rest of it. In Maths, particularly; I was lying there on the desk, listening to the swish, swish noise of cucharita's pencil (she was drawing something slashy, I know that) and it suddenly occurred to me that there's only one more week left of it, just one more week of watching Enid draw, perching myself on the windowsill in ML4, listening to _detroit tell me about something else new that I don't understand but I soon will, one more week of "x equals" and "Hitler was born in Vienna in 1889" and a hundred other little things that are so much a part of my life I don't notice them. And this seems partly liberating and partly sad, in equal proportions.

I'm sorry, I'm making no sense. cucharita forced me to write a mash100th drabble, and I have, of sorts, which I will post later. Right now, I need to pack. I'm going to London tomorrow (again) with my friends, for the Drama trip, and will be offline until at least Sunday night. Love to all, until then...

Awareness

Something else I may have mentioned, from time to time... did ya know, for example, that there are times at which I cannot stand my mother?

Argle. Anyway, today I took a step in what I know you folk would call the right direction, and I went to see Mrs Custard and informed her I can't face Biology A-level, I can't. She said she'd been expecting me to arrive and say that. She also apparently made waves and tried to prevent my subjects from being changed. She now says she'll try and sort it out for me so I can do Physics, not Biology, without involving my parents at all. It is, I think, one of the nicest things someone has done for me.

Needless to say my mother is utterly unaware of the above.