History paper 2

History paper two. Most people thought it was good and easy to do. I think it probably was; but I didn't pay much attention. I don't know, really. I don't know why I'm talking about it.

Emma and I walked down to the station together. She was regaling me with information at the speed of light as usual, but the main part of it is, Enid's still at Ella's. Emma doesn't think she'll go back home. I don't know. They're going to the beach and asked me to come with them, but I didn't want to. I don't feel very happy. I'm obviously not going to revise today, and I had considered just sleeping the whole afternoon, but it's too hot. I don't know what to do. Emma says she's going home, dying her hair blonde, then pink, then getting it cut, and then retreiving Enid and coming here to get me and then go to this beach. In that case I would probably go... but I don't really feel like anything at the moment; anything other than randomly depressed.

It's not random, I know - it's the weather that's doing it, but knowing what causes it doesn't make it any better. Perhaps I'll eat some of that angel cake, and then go out and read in the garden.

Afternoon

My mood has dramatically improved.

After I made that last full-of-melodrama entry, I went into the kitchen and heated up the rest of yesterday's soup, made some toast, perched it all on a plate and went out into the garden. I also took the phone, my mp3 player and my copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet and Fire. And then, I found a sunny patch on the grass, threw off my flip flops and just read.

And read, and read. I'm a fairly fast reader - I was on page 184 about an hour later when the phone rang. It was Becca, asking whether or not the structure of the eye is on the Physics exam (it's not, for the record, they pushed it onto the Biology exam), I told her, and expressed amazement that she was revising, she asked me how the history went, I told her I was glad it was over, and suddenly we'd given up the pretence of talking about work and just talked.

The weather, as I have said, was beautiful. Blue skies from horizon to horizon, not a single cloud, and I was lying flat on my back, doing what Roald Dahl always advised, paraphrased here - "Everyone should lie on the floor and look at the sky at least once a day." The trees cut into my view because they're so tall, but they look extraordinary from a horizontal viewpoint.

Becca and I talked for about an hour and a half, and I really wish I could say what we talked about, but the time just flew past. I think we talked about Father's Day (she's got her dad the Worthington Cup Final on DVD) and how her family might be going to Florida, and how we got four numbers on a lottery ticket last week, and then when she asked what I was doing, and I told her I was reading, she got to talking about how she wanted to read the third and fourth Harry Potter books in time for the new one, but she hadn't had time. I gave her a plot summary ("No, Peter is Wormtail. You know, the rat. Yeah. The horrible one. No, he's a werewolf. A werewolf! Yeah... he resigns 'cause the parents don't want a werewolf teaching their children... yeah, lycanthropy... why is that so funny?") and then told her about the fourth book up to page 184 (which is where Mad-Eye Moody starts doing stuff to spiders, if anyone's interested).

Becca then started talking about Wednesday, our sixth form induction which I have decided is going to be mufti. She said she'd realised that they're probably going to tell us what forms we'll be in and which teachers we'll have, which is all too, too scary in my humble opinion. Much too scary.

So we talked about that for a while, and then when we'd finally run out of things to say, I started reading again. I'm now up to page 405, and am in the happy state of having had an extremely stressful morning but a very relaxing afternoon. I really enjoyed it. I had almost forgotten how much I love reading. There's no stress, no hassle, just good times.

My mother's upstairs doing the homework from her course, Pedar's wrapping up an eBay parcel, an agnostic's in her heaven and all's right with the world.

FCOL - acronym of the week, provided by shipperkitten

Oh, my holy fucking god.

I've been browsing through ff.net, looking for Sirius/Remus pre-slash, and while I did find a couple of sweet, fluffy good ones, I also had the unfortunate experience of finding the following review attached:

"I find your "slash fiction writing" to be repulsive. Who, in their right mind, would write stories about heterosexual children's characters, and turn them into soft-core porn?! It's a bit disheartening to be lead to a site containing such filth. I find this to be extremely immoral and unecessary. Please, think about what you're writing before you do, and where you post your link to your works. May God be with you, so you don't have night after night of eternal hellfire."

Note - the fic had a PG rating.

I don't think there's anything I could add to that; I'll just let it stand, shall I?