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The quiz! (again)
Feb. 4th, 2004 06:10 pmMerchant Taylors' Girls' School has a lot of teams. Sports teams. Physics teams. Biology Olympiad teams. Did you know it had a quiz team? It does. The team is unknown, unheard of, unrenowned and unremarkable - but it exists. It's a four piece team with a captain, and said captain is yours truly.
Now we've got that out of the way...
Today was not a proper Wednesday. Firstly, Pedar was giving a lecture in Ormskirk and couldn't give me a lift into school, and secondly, I wasn't in mufti. I had to walk to school in the pouring rain, and arrived in a very bad mood indeed - the sort of mood it takes several consecutive late nights and a few gallons of water in one's socks to achieve. And once I had reached school, it was not great. I don't go to assembly on Wednesdays, but it means having to explain yourself to the sweepers, and today's was Dr Galbraith, who seemed very suspicious when I told her I had a committe meeting. And once that was over, my lessons were far from inspiring. Politics, module 3, boring as all-get-out, and Biology, with Rice-Oxley on a roll. She's currently talking about the uses of cloning in animals, and we were treated to a set of wonderful stick figures on the board; first, a cow, with udder and eyelashes to show it was female; then, a petri dish with an egg in it; then, the bull, with horns and a confused expression to show it was male, with stick-figure-farmer beside it, who was... ahem... harvesting it.
Result - baby cows. Which was amusing for a time, and then I had to go out to lunch in the pouring rain. Emma came with me and Becca, as hockey was cancelled because of the weather. So we went to Spoilt For Choice in the village and bought sandwiches. The weather was of course awful enough to warrant returning to the common room with them. Once we got there, the rest of the... well, I don't know what to call them. "Resident lunatics" is my term for my own friends, and these people are friends but not that kind of friend. If that makes sense. I will have to think of a name for them.
Anyway, they descended, and started talking about Bev's birthday. She wants to go "out" for it, which means she wants to go into Liverpool on a Friday night, with Becca and Charlene (and Emma and Nicola and Kat and Meg, etc, etc...) and for some inexplicable reason, doesn't want me to know about it. She's as far from being subtle as is humanly possible, so of course I do know, but it's slightly hurtful to think she really doesn't want me involved. I sometimes wonder if I do have that effect on people. They (presumably) like me and talk to me, but when it comes to it, they'd rather I wasn't involved.
That's maudlin, I suppose. Besides, I've decided I don't give a fuck. Sorry to be less-than-subtle myself, but it's more or less true. I feel moved to quote Patrick on the subject of going out into Liverpool: "If I wanted to go to hell, I'd kill myself." He's right about that. Therefore, I don't particularly care about going or not - it's just my wondering why I'm not supposed to know.
I said before today wasn't a proper Wednesday - this was compounded by the fact Nichola wasn't around today. She'd gone to Aston for a university open day. I don't think she actually wants to go there, but is looking to make her mind up. Because she wasn't around, I lingered in the library office an hour or so, reading, before Mrs Colvin arrived in a panic. "Didn't I write two o'clock on the note?!"
"No," I said, looking at the clock, "you said ten past two."
"Ah," said she, and visibly deflated. To calm her down, I retrieved my bag and coat and went out into the atrium, there to meet the rest of the team. Coincidentally, when I was in Spoilt For Choice this morning, I met a girl who looked at me and said, "You're Iona." That worried me. It turned out she was Liz, the U6 girl whom I had never met. The team now consists of me, Liz, Eleanor and Charlotte Taft. May I take a moment to say that Charlotte is the most annoying person ever, ever, ever. She's a living, breathing, walking talking embodiment of every single teenage cliché. I actually told her this, but it went straight over her head. Go figure. In any case, during the course of the afternoon's conversation, I discovered that she doesn't really care what GCSEs she does ("Cause I'm going to be a singer!") and her specialist subject is Lord of the Rings ("The films are soooo cool!") because she loves Orlando Bloom ("I'm going to marry him!").
The rest of the team are wonderful people. I really missed Jane, though. It's not the same without her. Where was I? Yes, the four of us, plus Mrs Colvin, trooped out into the car park and she drove us down to the boys' school. We weren't so early this year, and went into the library - it's a lovely place, massive with so many books and high ceilings and huge windows that let the light in - in time for the draw. Yet again, we were in the little room next door, but we were drawn first and so were the first to play against Birkenhead School.
Now is the point where I make clear we have never once lost by less than five hundred points. In my three years on the team, we have generally sucked. But either we were good, or they were bad, for one round later, we had a thousand points to their five hundred and ten. I enjoyed myself hugely, of course - pressing the buzzer is always fun - because the questions were good. They weren't too easy, and not too difficult. I somehow ended up answering most of them, but they were all great. We beat Birkenhead, and then sat out for Birkenhead versus Grange. Grange won that round - however, they also beat them a thousand to five hundred and ten. At that point, we retreated for refreshments.
Then, us versus Grange. I initially thought we might be able to do it - it was horribly close all the way through, and we kept on getting their bonuses when they couldn't answer them. To elaborate, the system is based on University Challenge. There's a starter for ten, first person to buzz gets it, and then that team gets three bonuses for five points each. If you can't answer a bonus question, the other team has a go at it. Particularly when the other team has said something particularly stupid - last year, some boy was asked "What date is Christmas celebrated in Australia?" and he said "June 25th."
Sadly, I provided two of this year's howlers. The first was a set of bonuses. The first one: "In which seaside town was the Labour party conference held in 2003?"
"Brighton," I said.
Wrong. The other team got it - it was Bournemouth.
The next question. "In which seaside town was the Conservative party conference held in 2003?"
"Brighton," I said.
Wrong. Again, the other team got it - Blackpool.
Next. "In which seaside town was the Liberal Democrat conference held this year?"
And I nearly didn't say it! Nearly didn't! But - "Brighton!" - is the correct answer! Cue uproarious laughter from the rest of the room.
My other howler was simpler but perhaps more stupid - "In the eighteenth century, what was a 'macaroni?'"
Quoth I, "A type of radio."
No, we didn't win it. But our loss was respectable - eight hundred to seven hundred. I was proud. And we did much better than the boys' school, who lost both their matches by a thousand points or more. And that sparked another idea - a friendly match between Merchants' boys and girls. It'll be done some time soon, using the questions from the final, which we didn't stay to watch. Should be good, especially as my team is by far the better one. Of course.
Pedar picked me up and off we went home. It was a success.
No, Jane, no-one asked about barrel-makers.
Now we've got that out of the way...
Today was not a proper Wednesday. Firstly, Pedar was giving a lecture in Ormskirk and couldn't give me a lift into school, and secondly, I wasn't in mufti. I had to walk to school in the pouring rain, and arrived in a very bad mood indeed - the sort of mood it takes several consecutive late nights and a few gallons of water in one's socks to achieve. And once I had reached school, it was not great. I don't go to assembly on Wednesdays, but it means having to explain yourself to the sweepers, and today's was Dr Galbraith, who seemed very suspicious when I told her I had a committe meeting. And once that was over, my lessons were far from inspiring. Politics, module 3, boring as all-get-out, and Biology, with Rice-Oxley on a roll. She's currently talking about the uses of cloning in animals, and we were treated to a set of wonderful stick figures on the board; first, a cow, with udder and eyelashes to show it was female; then, a petri dish with an egg in it; then, the bull, with horns and a confused expression to show it was male, with stick-figure-farmer beside it, who was... ahem... harvesting it.
Result - baby cows. Which was amusing for a time, and then I had to go out to lunch in the pouring rain. Emma came with me and Becca, as hockey was cancelled because of the weather. So we went to Spoilt For Choice in the village and bought sandwiches. The weather was of course awful enough to warrant returning to the common room with them. Once we got there, the rest of the... well, I don't know what to call them. "Resident lunatics" is my term for my own friends, and these people are friends but not that kind of friend. If that makes sense. I will have to think of a name for them.
Anyway, they descended, and started talking about Bev's birthday. She wants to go "out" for it, which means she wants to go into Liverpool on a Friday night, with Becca and Charlene (and Emma and Nicola and Kat and Meg, etc, etc...) and for some inexplicable reason, doesn't want me to know about it. She's as far from being subtle as is humanly possible, so of course I do know, but it's slightly hurtful to think she really doesn't want me involved. I sometimes wonder if I do have that effect on people. They (presumably) like me and talk to me, but when it comes to it, they'd rather I wasn't involved.
That's maudlin, I suppose. Besides, I've decided I don't give a fuck. Sorry to be less-than-subtle myself, but it's more or less true. I feel moved to quote Patrick on the subject of going out into Liverpool: "If I wanted to go to hell, I'd kill myself." He's right about that. Therefore, I don't particularly care about going or not - it's just my wondering why I'm not supposed to know.
I said before today wasn't a proper Wednesday - this was compounded by the fact Nichola wasn't around today. She'd gone to Aston for a university open day. I don't think she actually wants to go there, but is looking to make her mind up. Because she wasn't around, I lingered in the library office an hour or so, reading, before Mrs Colvin arrived in a panic. "Didn't I write two o'clock on the note?!"
"No," I said, looking at the clock, "you said ten past two."
"Ah," said she, and visibly deflated. To calm her down, I retrieved my bag and coat and went out into the atrium, there to meet the rest of the team. Coincidentally, when I was in Spoilt For Choice this morning, I met a girl who looked at me and said, "You're Iona." That worried me. It turned out she was Liz, the U6 girl whom I had never met. The team now consists of me, Liz, Eleanor and Charlotte Taft. May I take a moment to say that Charlotte is the most annoying person ever, ever, ever. She's a living, breathing, walking talking embodiment of every single teenage cliché. I actually told her this, but it went straight over her head. Go figure. In any case, during the course of the afternoon's conversation, I discovered that she doesn't really care what GCSEs she does ("Cause I'm going to be a singer!") and her specialist subject is Lord of the Rings ("The films are soooo cool!") because she loves Orlando Bloom ("I'm going to marry him!").
The rest of the team are wonderful people. I really missed Jane, though. It's not the same without her. Where was I? Yes, the four of us, plus Mrs Colvin, trooped out into the car park and she drove us down to the boys' school. We weren't so early this year, and went into the library - it's a lovely place, massive with so many books and high ceilings and huge windows that let the light in - in time for the draw. Yet again, we were in the little room next door, but we were drawn first and so were the first to play against Birkenhead School.
Now is the point where I make clear we have never once lost by less than five hundred points. In my three years on the team, we have generally sucked. But either we were good, or they were bad, for one round later, we had a thousand points to their five hundred and ten. I enjoyed myself hugely, of course - pressing the buzzer is always fun - because the questions were good. They weren't too easy, and not too difficult. I somehow ended up answering most of them, but they were all great. We beat Birkenhead, and then sat out for Birkenhead versus Grange. Grange won that round - however, they also beat them a thousand to five hundred and ten. At that point, we retreated for refreshments.
Then, us versus Grange. I initially thought we might be able to do it - it was horribly close all the way through, and we kept on getting their bonuses when they couldn't answer them. To elaborate, the system is based on University Challenge. There's a starter for ten, first person to buzz gets it, and then that team gets three bonuses for five points each. If you can't answer a bonus question, the other team has a go at it. Particularly when the other team has said something particularly stupid - last year, some boy was asked "What date is Christmas celebrated in Australia?" and he said "June 25th."
Sadly, I provided two of this year's howlers. The first was a set of bonuses. The first one: "In which seaside town was the Labour party conference held in 2003?"
"Brighton," I said.
Wrong. The other team got it - it was Bournemouth.
The next question. "In which seaside town was the Conservative party conference held in 2003?"
"Brighton," I said.
Wrong. Again, the other team got it - Blackpool.
Next. "In which seaside town was the Liberal Democrat conference held this year?"
And I nearly didn't say it! Nearly didn't! But - "Brighton!" - is the correct answer! Cue uproarious laughter from the rest of the room.
My other howler was simpler but perhaps more stupid - "In the eighteenth century, what was a 'macaroni?'"
Quoth I, "A type of radio."
No, we didn't win it. But our loss was respectable - eight hundred to seven hundred. I was proud. And we did much better than the boys' school, who lost both their matches by a thousand points or more. And that sparked another idea - a friendly match between Merchants' boys and girls. It'll be done some time soon, using the questions from the final, which we didn't stay to watch. Should be good, especially as my team is by far the better one. Of course.
Pedar picked me up and off we went home. It was a success.
No, Jane, no-one asked about barrel-makers.
