Genre-spanning, kebab-grilling bank holiday fun

Saturday morning I was saddened to realise that the sleep button on my radio remote does not, in reality, make allowances for extended snoozing. When I rang the Hairdressers I was offered an appointment for in five minutes time, and went for it. I was only fifteen minutes late. This was followed by a trip to Rhode Island, then to Niall's house (to get said Niall) then to Manchester. There was no foreseeable space in the multi-story on Deansgate (yes, we foolishly travelled by car), so after much aimless meandering we parked near Canal Street.

We were being fashion gurus, shamelessly style-hunting in all manner of shops. It was disheartening to find nothing of worth in all of Manchester. All manner of establishments were graced by our presence, including the Disney Store, Harvey Nicks, Affleck's Palace, Topman, the Arndale Food Market and Queer.

We decided that a BBQ was necessary, so on Sunday, instead of going to Varsity, we went to Niall's house. That was fun. We ended up watching various comedians and tormenting the many cats.

There was a crazy gizmo for opening wine bottles. So we used it. It looked like something used to put the corks in, but it wasn't. Now there's a full, open bottle of white wine in my fridge. Not for loonnnggg.

Today (Monday) was a wasted day. I got up too late and couldn't motivate myself to do any work. Ah well. Four days on, then study leave time. Gahh. Exams.

Death by mockery

I feel rather swamped. Perhaps because I am.

This evening was an interview skills affair at school. Interview practice, in short. Louise's Dad was doing some interviewing, and hers was (with someone else, called Dr Christmas. I colour to admit, I giggled) early on. I was looking for Mikey, and she for Elliot. Then we discovered that they had both gone, so we decided we would follow suit. Her Dad was still interviewing away (very well, I might add) so I offered a lift home. She lives nowhere near to my house as I thought. I got lost on the way home, and had to call her from a library car park. I now realise where I was, but had no idea at the time. Regina Spektor kept me calm.

As I type, the bell on my desk, the kind you imagine on the reception desk in Fawlty Towers, attempts to sound. It's most odd.

My words-underlined-with-a-red-squiggle count is now up to four. Werhayy.

Anyway, as I adverted to before, I have much to do. So anon.

Andante in Db

Twitter + Wordle =

My delightful Easter is over, much to my chagrin. I went to see Mikey in the Lakes for a day, and climbed Skiddaw. A play at FLT, a dinner party. Rather good, all in all.

I seem to have lost the facility for prosaic verbal effusion, thanks to twitter. All my words want to come out as snippets suitable for a Tweet. This must be rectified with haste.

Mechanisms of chemical reactions are calling: we expect a surprise test in chem tomorrow. God, she's evil. Can one expect a surprise test?

Oh, and I passed by driving test. There is much more smugness behind that sentence than you can see.

I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with C...

CAKE! Crispy cakes, chocolate chunk cookies. All in all, a good baking session, even if Dr Oetker's icing did fail us. The Backstreet Boys served as a perfect background to our Delia-inspired all-in-one sponge "]. Our cookies combined forces to form two giant supercookies. And as crispy cakes can't go wrong, they were flawless.

Fuck you, Dr Oetker

However, we have found that Delia isn't as saintly as we all thought: the first F in her index is "Faggots and peas." We'll give her the benefit of the doubt on that one, though.

This is mine and Kath's amazing cake.

Amazing, non? Bien sure (j'adore le franglais.) We really have baking skills, as an article I was reading yesterday would have put it.

<poorhumour> What a mess! And I got the oven glove dirty  HAHAHAA </poorhumour>.

I wish I could carry on, with more of the wonderful pictures we took, and details of the jollies we had. But I need sleep. Perhaps on the morrow.

Out to lunch

We were getting more and more listless, so Kath and I decided to lunch out together today. Two o'clock may be a little late for lunch, but we were desperate. And hungry (I'd had breakfast at twelve, ten minutes after I woke up). We chattered about the play, and how awful it's going to be. Costumes were planned, then we went to The Phoenix and chanced upon Wendy in the costume room. That was a shock. Great fun was had by all as we planned our characters' outfits, and Wendy offered to lend us various garish items for the weekend.

We decided that one round of "coffee" (I usually have tea, and Kath a milkshake or hot chocolate) is never enough, and went in Nero for the first time in ages. Loyalty cards and free drinks ftw. Thinking of possible costumes increases one's propensity to peoplewatch. That was entertaining. Creme eggs were bought, then we went to out respective stations of public transport, pour rétourner home.

My driving test is in less than three weeks! Aaaaaghhh! Hopefully, it will be fine. Then I will be able to drive wherever and whenever I want. Except to school, because my Dad feels the need to drive several miles away to the tram station, when he could walk to the train instead. What silly parents I have.

I want to screenprint something. Cakeybakey delights tomorrow, at Kath's house, with a number of people from school. Then off to the theatre. Reports tomorrow, perhaps.

Oh-wa, ta-gu, Siam.

A day of wins and losses

I woke up hideously early (fifteen minutes more so than usual) inorder to get to Bolton to take my driving theory test, which I passed with one wrong answer. Win 1.

A nice walk to school, then I was going to get some work done. It should be noted that today was house day, so chaos was very much the theme. There was biology to be done, and still is, but Michael was managing year 8 board games on his own, so I stepped in to help. Witty epigrams on the board much? Actually, no, witty is far too optimistic. Amusing year 8's though. I think Manchester won. Win 2.

More free time, so I sat in the library and tried to fill in a form and do the omnipresent biology. I ended up reading the studentBMJ. Loss? Perhaps. Loss 1?

Lunchtime was results time - module 1. Pandemonium in the library, then a great deal of mixed feelings. Lots of reconsidering to be done, apparently. And a lot of resits. I did quite well, although my general studies mark beat my chemistry one. Shameful. Win 3, loss 2.

The afternoon meant managing year 9 climbing. Jonny was doing nothing, so I dragged him along. It was quite amusing: timed relay climbs finished with a shout of "STOP COOKING!". Then some year 11s who were doing the same thing after break came into the gym and started dicking about with astounding proficiency. We wanted to go, so had to spend ten minutes getting them to leave so it wouldn't be our resposibilty if they injured themselves and/or each other. Win 4, loss 3.

The language quiz was amusing. Enough said.

Then the BEAT final. We didn't win! I'm livid, but I did a good job of convincing everyone, inculding myself, that I didn't mind. We had a nice chat over food with our supportive teachers. That was nice. Win 5, losses 4, 5 and 6.

Dad was late, so Michael was late to cubs (I'd offered to drive him there). Took Jonny home, then realised I was supposed to be at explorers, so went. Madness.

I want to talk about yesterday, but this post is too long already. Calssics reading. Fisher won everything (actually all three categories). David had me in hysterics. It was a very gay afternoon, in all regards. Definite win.

And that's more than enough. And you just lost the game.

I know a title that'll get on your nerves

Niall rightly pointed out that we were in need of biscuits. He went to the shop and bought a large pack of bourbons for 90p. We decided to eat them all. After finishing his half he felt rather unwell, and tried to lock me in the kitchen until I finished my half. I was not impressed.

Beavers was otherwise quite demoralising. I hate it when that happens. The room is full of people who aren't beavers is ludicrous. Even after we got rid of two there were too many. They're really impertinent too. I can't stand it.

I managed to drive home without putting anyone in danger, which is more than can be said for Phil on the way there: he came very close to knocking into of the Beavers as he parked. The mother didn't look happy.

Too much maths. Always the way.