Drama

[raven]

Not such a bad day, all told. I got into the drama thing! I was going to take my name off the list, but because I didn't think I'd get in anyway, I didn't bother. But apparently they went round the teachers of all forty-five applicants, and picked only the ones who generated no negative comments. Apparently my teachers love me, because I got in!
There was another reason... the drama teacher Mr Dunne, his cat's name is Iona Peccalo Moonbeam, so naturally, my name caught his eye on the form lists.
I got in, so did Becca (chanandlerbong), Jess (cosmogrrl) and Beverlina. And we got priority lunch, which was refreshing as we were in lunch even before the thirds, and the class itself was good, as we were doing spontanous improvisation - me and Becca fighting over who got to watch what on television, and then spontaneous reactions to the telly blowing up. The teacher told a story to explain why he uses this sketch... when he about thirteen, living in a block of flats in Camberwell, London, there was a new channel - BBC2! But you could only get it with a new telly, and they had an old one, and their mum said that as long as the old one worked, they weren't getting a new one. So, one day, him and his brother pick up this telly, carry it down three flights of stairs, across the street to a Second World War bombsite, and throw it over the wall. The tube smashes, big explosion, windows shattering, people coming out to see what's going on...
These two kids go quietly back up to their flat and wait for their mum to get home.
"Where's the telly?"
"We threw it away..."
As he put it, they were "strapped within an inch of their lives." But two weeks later, brand new telly complete with BBC2...
And that was the parting thought. Would you have the bottle to throw away your mum's telly?
So, this left me on a vague high until last double lesson, maths, what else. I was in silent-internal-crack-up mode, characterised by my sitting there and saying "Ouch" every time eniddy poked me. Poke. Ouch. Poke. Ouch. Poke. Ouch.
But something did happen, which I am only writing about for eniddy's benefit. While we were sitting there getting bored with statistics, some random bloke comes up to the windows at the back of the room (we were in M5) and says something like, "What are you teaching in there?"
Mrs Jopling strides across, shouts, "Maths! Will you please go away?"
He went, but we were all in a state of minor shock and startlement - who was that, and why did he do that, and who and why and the rest of it...
That's it. More later.
[Edit - anyone know why bellebohemian's deleted her journal?]