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And in days to come I may look upon this moment and say, "I never got the hang of Thursdays."
I am not generally in the habit of comparing myself to Arthur Dent - for one, I don't like tea - but he's right when he says that Thursday is the most difficult day of the week to cope with. I suppose I ought to be grateful for small mercies and be thankful that I am no longer thirteen, and will never, ever have to go Martin Mere ever again. I've been there twice, both times with school. The first time was when I was all of seven - I believe![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
osiris13 came too - and it was very very wet. The second time was when I was in Lower Four - Becca and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cucharita came with - and it was also very very wet. Why I am telling you all this? Because the Lower Fours went today, and so all the Biology teachers/L4 form tutors were AWOL, having spent the week moaning about it.
So I didn't have to cope with excessive amounts of water and ducks. But I did have to do other things. Cooking on a Budget, for one. It was much more annoying than it was last week - I had to maintain two pans at the same time and got rather stressed about it. I wasn't the only one - after last week's encounter with mushroom risotto, things could only get worse for Emma, who was today crying from the stench of phantom onions and throwing potato peel all over the place. I was complaining about the fact my tin of chopped tomatoes was just about drowning. Water everywhere.
It all went rather wrong. But I did salvage something edible out of it, and carried it into the common room without dropping it. Becca had also made pasta, only hers was multicoloured and had cheese. She had discreetly absconded with four plates from the home economics rooms, and had taken the cutlery from the sixth form kitchen. She fed Charlene, Nicola and Meg, while Bev fed Katrina with her tuna pasta bake-type thing. It was a curiously civilised affair. I went to the dining-room to attempt to steal a jug of water and cups, and succeeded.
It's sad, really, when lunch figures so greatly in my recollection of the day. My lessons never do; they're merely things that happen to me. Chemistry, for example. And English; Brave New World again today, and it wasn't very interesting. The lesson, that is, not the book; maybe I just wasn't in the mood for it.
Tonight, I have a lot of stuff to do and not much time to do it in. Enid - you asked me some time ago what I'm doing for my birthday. The answer is, now more than ever, I have absolutely no idea.
I am not generally in the habit of comparing myself to Arthur Dent - for one, I don't like tea - but he's right when he says that Thursday is the most difficult day of the week to cope with. I suppose I ought to be grateful for small mercies and be thankful that I am no longer thirteen, and will never, ever have to go Martin Mere ever again. I've been there twice, both times with school. The first time was when I was all of seven - I believe
osiris13 came too - and it was very very wet. The second time was when I was in Lower Four - Becca and cucharita came with - and it was also very very wet. Why I am telling you all this? Because the Lower Fours went today, and so all the Biology teachers/L4 form tutors were AWOL, having spent the week moaning about it.So I didn't have to cope with excessive amounts of water and ducks. But I did have to do other things. Cooking on a Budget, for one. It was much more annoying than it was last week - I had to maintain two pans at the same time and got rather stressed about it. I wasn't the only one - after last week's encounter with mushroom risotto, things could only get worse for Emma, who was today crying from the stench of phantom onions and throwing potato peel all over the place. I was complaining about the fact my tin of chopped tomatoes was just about drowning. Water everywhere.
It all went rather wrong. But I did salvage something edible out of it, and carried it into the common room without dropping it. Becca had also made pasta, only hers was multicoloured and had cheese. She had discreetly absconded with four plates from the home economics rooms, and had taken the cutlery from the sixth form kitchen. She fed Charlene, Nicola and Meg, while Bev fed Katrina with her tuna pasta bake-type thing. It was a curiously civilised affair. I went to the dining-room to attempt to steal a jug of water and cups, and succeeded.
It's sad, really, when lunch figures so greatly in my recollection of the day. My lessons never do; they're merely things that happen to me. Chemistry, for example. And English; Brave New World again today, and it wasn't very interesting. The lesson, that is, not the book; maybe I just wasn't in the mood for it.
Tonight, I have a lot of stuff to do and not much time to do it in. Enid - you asked me some time ago what I'm doing for my birthday. The answer is, now more than ever, I have absolutely no idea.
