![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Conjugal relations
Mar. 30th, 2004 08:51 pmSo, I am spending all my time playing Whizzball. The game is fucking addictive, and I didn't link it on purpose; don't start playing it, because you will get addicted and find you have no time to do other things, par exemple, function in the real world.
Talking of the real world, it's been a weird couple of days. Yesterday afternoon, Sarah, Fidan and I decided that as we are all three capable, intelligent A-level students, we could do a dichromate oxidation in half an hour, there was plenty of time for us to get a result before packing up for the day. So, we grabbed the test-tubes and began. Now, we started off quite well. Along the way, the reaction called for ammonia as a reagent. For some reason, Becky O decided that she needed to conduct her version of the experiment on the other side of the room, and kept on carrying chemical bottles over there. So it transpired that when I grabbed ammonia, I didn't take the 2M bottle, as Becky had it. I just took a bottle labelled "ammonia" and poured it in.
Um, they should put more labels on concentrated chemicals. The smell was absolutely diabolical, and in addition to the fact it was an organic practical and fairly fragrant anyway, I think there's enough to say that most people retired to the toilets to get rid of some of the smell. I carried on getting the occasional whiff of it until a fairly self-indulgent half-hour shower.
Today was less pungent, which I suppose is one thing that can be said for it. First of all, I forgot my pencilcase. I keep my mp3 player in there, so it was doubly annoying, and then I had to contend with the fact that I had no writing implements of any sort. So, I stumbled through the day rather than striding through it with my usual confidence (boom, boom) and discovered that I'm on the shortlist for head sixth form librarians. They're being voted in tomorrow. I don't know whether or not I want the job. I suppose that even if I get it, I don't have to take it.
Blaargh. Very tired. It's a good thing I wasn't tutoring tonight, as I wouldn't have been able to think straight for a long enough period of time. I shall have to have caught up on sleep by tomorrow, which looks like being an increasingly unlikely possible. I'll also have to have caught up on work; I had a far-from-illuminating conversation with Mr Evans today, that went as follows:
Him: Iona, you know your AS question? Did you write it or type it?
Me: Write it.
Him: You see, I thought you did, and I've been looking everywhere... even ransacking my executive briefcase (points at large, overflowing plastic box).
Me: Ah.
Him: I can't find it. I must have gone mad. (pause) When did you give it me?
Me: I haven't given it you.
Him: Ah! I thought, it can't be, Iona always hands stuff in, I'm going mad... (remembering)... um, why haven't you given it me?
Me: Cause I hadn't done it.
Him: Do you have it with you?
Me: Yes.
And I did. But he'll probably have a nervous breakdown if I do that again.
And, lastly! The reason for the update!
There's Gossip with a capital G. Becca told me in the morning, in passing, that in their lesson, Helena had asked Mrs Stubbs (her mother) if Mr Hood and Miss McWatt were shagging.
"What?" was my exact response.
"Shagging," she said.
"What did she say?"
"Just said, 'Don't listen to rumours.'"
Rumours are all over the place. Apparently it may well be true. Katrina asked Sophie what she knew (she's Emma's younger sister and so privy to teacher-type gossip), and Becca, mindful of the fact that Sophie is a first-year, asked Kat what word she used. "Shagging, banging or bonking?"
"Having an affair."
Ah.
We later asked Mr Evans what he knew about it, and carefully chose the moment when he was standing on the radiator hanging off the windows (he's against window poles, for some reason). He can't lie to save his life.
So there you have it. You heard it here first, etc. I said later that this is the best thing about sixth form: "Teachers tell you about stuff teachers are doing to other teachers."
Talking of the real world, it's been a weird couple of days. Yesterday afternoon, Sarah, Fidan and I decided that as we are all three capable, intelligent A-level students, we could do a dichromate oxidation in half an hour, there was plenty of time for us to get a result before packing up for the day. So, we grabbed the test-tubes and began. Now, we started off quite well. Along the way, the reaction called for ammonia as a reagent. For some reason, Becky O decided that she needed to conduct her version of the experiment on the other side of the room, and kept on carrying chemical bottles over there. So it transpired that when I grabbed ammonia, I didn't take the 2M bottle, as Becky had it. I just took a bottle labelled "ammonia" and poured it in.
Um, they should put more labels on concentrated chemicals. The smell was absolutely diabolical, and in addition to the fact it was an organic practical and fairly fragrant anyway, I think there's enough to say that most people retired to the toilets to get rid of some of the smell. I carried on getting the occasional whiff of it until a fairly self-indulgent half-hour shower.
Today was less pungent, which I suppose is one thing that can be said for it. First of all, I forgot my pencilcase. I keep my mp3 player in there, so it was doubly annoying, and then I had to contend with the fact that I had no writing implements of any sort. So, I stumbled through the day rather than striding through it with my usual confidence (boom, boom) and discovered that I'm on the shortlist for head sixth form librarians. They're being voted in tomorrow. I don't know whether or not I want the job. I suppose that even if I get it, I don't have to take it.
Blaargh. Very tired. It's a good thing I wasn't tutoring tonight, as I wouldn't have been able to think straight for a long enough period of time. I shall have to have caught up on sleep by tomorrow, which looks like being an increasingly unlikely possible. I'll also have to have caught up on work; I had a far-from-illuminating conversation with Mr Evans today, that went as follows:
Him: Iona, you know your AS question? Did you write it or type it?
Me: Write it.
Him: You see, I thought you did, and I've been looking everywhere... even ransacking my executive briefcase (points at large, overflowing plastic box).
Me: Ah.
Him: I can't find it. I must have gone mad. (pause) When did you give it me?
Me: I haven't given it you.
Him: Ah! I thought, it can't be, Iona always hands stuff in, I'm going mad... (remembering)... um, why haven't you given it me?
Me: Cause I hadn't done it.
Him: Do you have it with you?
Me: Yes.
And I did. But he'll probably have a nervous breakdown if I do that again.
And, lastly! The reason for the update!
There's Gossip with a capital G. Becca told me in the morning, in passing, that in their lesson, Helena had asked Mrs Stubbs (her mother) if Mr Hood and Miss McWatt were shagging.
"What?" was my exact response.
"Shagging," she said.
"What did she say?"
"Just said, 'Don't listen to rumours.'"
Rumours are all over the place. Apparently it may well be true. Katrina asked Sophie what she knew (she's Emma's younger sister and so privy to teacher-type gossip), and Becca, mindful of the fact that Sophie is a first-year, asked Kat what word she used. "Shagging, banging or bonking?"
"Having an affair."
Ah.
We later asked Mr Evans what he knew about it, and carefully chose the moment when he was standing on the radiator hanging off the windows (he's against window poles, for some reason). He can't lie to save his life.
So there you have it. You heard it here first, etc. I said later that this is the best thing about sixth form: "Teachers tell you about stuff teachers are doing to other teachers."
