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To get the obligatory review over with, I watched Stargate - Space Race. Three words. What the fuck?
Okay, it had its moments (particularly the Daniel/Jack-ness, which has been rearing its pretty head a lot lately) but seriously. What were they on? The whole thing played out as a head-on collision between the Phantom Menace and the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Actually, more the latter. Such a blatant, blatant reference to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe (and the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation, now I come to think of it). I have to say I thought it was fun. But not good. Just fun.
Going back to real life, today has been a warm, fly-buzzing sort of day. The sun is shining and the skies are blue, and it's like everyone is just waiting for life to stop. I went to Chemistry in the morning, did a practical with bleach (sodium hypochlorite, because I like the old names) which Fidan, Sarah and I managed to make a mess of. Somehow or other we persuaded the starch to turn brown as opposed to colourless. Not a clue how we did it.
Talking of Fidan and Sarah, our preparations for going down to Oxford are well underway. I hate to think of my friends, the people I know and like and want to see do well, as rivals, but it's not as if we'll all be accepted. I suppose I'm lucky in one way - of the ten people I know of who are applying, seven are trying for medicine, one for law, one for history, and one for PPE. I leave you all to work out which is which.
Following that, a Biology mock. While revising, I managed to eat a bag of mini Rolos entirely without noticing. I eat so much. I probably ate more than I revised, if that makes sense. Thankfully Bev had the mock before I did and told me a bit about what was on it, so I revised the polymerase chain reaction and was later grateful I had. The mock wasn't actually that bad - I wrote too much about CFTR, and not enough about gene therapy - and enjoyed myself pontificating about ethical considerations (my Physics GCSE comes to mind - when asked a disadvantage of the prevalence of surveillance technology, I wrote about "potential Orwellian dystopia") but made a mess of radioactive probes. We shall see how well I did. At least I have the comforting thought that I spent months convinced I had failed module 1, and hadn't. Rice-Oxley is tramping through fields next week, though, so it will be a while before I get any results.
By lunchtime, it was getting hotter. The common room has large plate-glass windows, and the sun was coming in and staying in. By the time I got back in the afternoon, I was hot and uncomfortable and feeling claustrophobic, and had the sudden idea to go out to the village and get something to eat. The something turned out to be an ice lolly. I hadn't had one for years, and the one I got was refreshing and strawberry-flavour and there was something curiously decadent about sucking on it in the common room while Becca got stressed over English Lit (she later sent a note to Mrs Enstone that went something like "I am very sorry and if I don't get this essay to you tomorrow you can chop me into bits and bury me all over the country) and Bev and Meg cursed Mrs Williams and Chemistry but mostly Mrs Williams. When I left for Politics, they were yelling about silver halides and what a pain in the arse that woman is. And she is.
I went home at the usual time, walked home in the sun and the heat and coped with my protesting feet (the old problem is back, plus the sympathetic pains in the other foot) and reached home to find my room is nearly done. I've moved back in now, and there's now a mirror on the wall, but less wicked queen and more drag queen. It has lightbulbs on the sides and makes me feel uncharacteristically flamboyant.
Pedar's getting back from London tonight. Cue panic getting to the station. What a life I lead, to be sure.
Okay, it had its moments (particularly the Daniel/Jack-ness, which has been rearing its pretty head a lot lately) but seriously. What were they on? The whole thing played out as a head-on collision between the Phantom Menace and the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Actually, more the latter. Such a blatant, blatant reference to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe (and the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation, now I come to think of it). I have to say I thought it was fun. But not good. Just fun.
Going back to real life, today has been a warm, fly-buzzing sort of day. The sun is shining and the skies are blue, and it's like everyone is just waiting for life to stop. I went to Chemistry in the morning, did a practical with bleach (sodium hypochlorite, because I like the old names) which Fidan, Sarah and I managed to make a mess of. Somehow or other we persuaded the starch to turn brown as opposed to colourless. Not a clue how we did it.
Talking of Fidan and Sarah, our preparations for going down to Oxford are well underway. I hate to think of my friends, the people I know and like and want to see do well, as rivals, but it's not as if we'll all be accepted. I suppose I'm lucky in one way - of the ten people I know of who are applying, seven are trying for medicine, one for law, one for history, and one for PPE. I leave you all to work out which is which.
Following that, a Biology mock. While revising, I managed to eat a bag of mini Rolos entirely without noticing. I eat so much. I probably ate more than I revised, if that makes sense. Thankfully Bev had the mock before I did and told me a bit about what was on it, so I revised the polymerase chain reaction and was later grateful I had. The mock wasn't actually that bad - I wrote too much about CFTR, and not enough about gene therapy - and enjoyed myself pontificating about ethical considerations (my Physics GCSE comes to mind - when asked a disadvantage of the prevalence of surveillance technology, I wrote about "potential Orwellian dystopia") but made a mess of radioactive probes. We shall see how well I did. At least I have the comforting thought that I spent months convinced I had failed module 1, and hadn't. Rice-Oxley is tramping through fields next week, though, so it will be a while before I get any results.
By lunchtime, it was getting hotter. The common room has large plate-glass windows, and the sun was coming in and staying in. By the time I got back in the afternoon, I was hot and uncomfortable and feeling claustrophobic, and had the sudden idea to go out to the village and get something to eat. The something turned out to be an ice lolly. I hadn't had one for years, and the one I got was refreshing and strawberry-flavour and there was something curiously decadent about sucking on it in the common room while Becca got stressed over English Lit (she later sent a note to Mrs Enstone that went something like "I am very sorry and if I don't get this essay to you tomorrow you can chop me into bits and bury me all over the country) and Bev and Meg cursed Mrs Williams and Chemistry but mostly Mrs Williams. When I left for Politics, they were yelling about silver halides and what a pain in the arse that woman is. And she is.
I went home at the usual time, walked home in the sun and the heat and coped with my protesting feet (the old problem is back, plus the sympathetic pains in the other foot) and reached home to find my room is nearly done. I've moved back in now, and there's now a mirror on the wall, but less wicked queen and more drag queen. It has lightbulbs on the sides and makes me feel uncharacteristically flamboyant.
Pedar's getting back from London tonight. Cue panic getting to the station. What a life I lead, to be sure.
