The Dances of Despair

"Oh, God, what if I go deaf? Hmmm. Well. As long as I don't go blind then I'll be OK."

It is, or, at least, it has been, dance show week, and the strain is showing on all of our faces. Kat lost most of her senses over the past few days, but managed to regain them in ample time for a spectacular final performance on Saturday night. Unfortunately, there were few tears from Ms. XXX, and so we were deprived of a final moment of enteratinment. But all's well that ends well, and we definitely seemed to do, in the grand scheme of things, alright. I even managed a smile as I danced over the remnants of Kirstin's grass skirt during the finale. It was almost a divine moment. But only almost.

And I'd just like to take this opportunity to completely un-thank the boys from my form for an utter lack of samosas and cookies on every single performance evening. We were hungry and we got nothing. Cheers, boys.

Though I suppose I must pay them a reluctant thanks for not collapsing with laughter when they saw our African costumes; they hid their smug grins very well.

. . . . .

The other 'event' of this week was the unveiling of our art exam theme: 'Structures'. I must admit, it didn't grab me at first, but having thought about it, and scoured the earth for Lennart Nilsson photographs, I'm feeling very inspired, and am curently formulating a final piece in my head involving psychadelic colours and crazy brush strokes. Just my cup of tea.

Ooh. And speaking of events, Alistair Cook has this week gone from my brother's favourite Essex player to everyone's favourite England debutant, making a very classy century in the second innings of his debut. True, the final score was a mere draw, but I'd be bold enough to suggest England had the upper hand. And Hoggy's bowling was great; he totally deserved that ride on the outfield atop his Man of the Match motorbike. And, even better, Austraila were demolished this week in South Africa; the sheer joy on my Dad's face from seeing that they were 7-4, or something equally dream-like, was a sight to behold. Woo!

. . . . .

"...Well, you're not on for a while, you're going to have a long wait."

"Oh, really? Are we? Are we, you little ginger man?"

- Backstage helpers: really not all they're cracked up to be.