Loose Ends

"I think this is what being dead feels like."

And so we danced our little hearts out on Friday, all in the vague hope that Miss XXX, in a flash of humanity, would give us all the fabulous grades we really didn't deserve. It was indeed like a slow, torturous death; by the time I was performing Geisha, every limb had siezed up, and it seemed perfectly plausible that Kat would have to drag my onto the stage by my hair. But no. I went to my doom of my own free will...

Manchester has been and gone, and I have learnt the following things:

• Yes, I really am right when I say that my family are insane.
• However much my aunt professes to being "just down to earth, you know", she is in fact the most obvious social climber I have ever met in my life.
• And, according to her wisdom, every restaurant in Manchester has "gone off".

And so, really, I could have just stayed at home.

Today I had my English poetry exam. Mixed feelings. The analysis was OK, my response to the analyse & comment section was, I think, a bit wishy-washy. But we shall see. At least I finished it, unlike some of the class. Or those who finished forty inutes early and stared gormlessly at the window until the bell went.

I am re-reading Birdsong, thanks to Ben. I had forgotten how stirring it is. If I could make a recommendation for today, that would be it.

This is short, but so is my attention span this afternoon.