School's Out Forever

"Well, it's a bit of a danger area, isn't it? Everything seems really funny until you wake up with a hangover and a penis."

- Looking back on five years of inimitable experiences and conversations; myabove musing has proven to be Kirstin's favourite.

. . .

Well, it's over.

We've finished high school, save the small matter of exams. And it ended in a flurry of photographs, group hugs and a fair few tears:

"But I can't leave! I don't want to leave!" Kathryn wailed, kissing the wall of the Science block with a wistful "Bye, wall". The thing is, though, we'll all be back soon, and wishing we were in year thirteen so could leave for good. My yearbook is wonderful; I never knew that I knew so many people, nor that they were all so photogenic. Mostly.

And so, exhausted by Uma's pleading, I went to the party on Friday evening, where she and I (and a couple of inebriated young men) did an excellent karaoke version of I Will Survive. Uma, being a Year Ten, didn't quite understand the enormity of the 'end of school' situation.

"But you hate school," she said, entirely missing the point as she sipped a Bacardi Breezer, "You should be glad."

Yeah, well.

And Sophie, ever the goddess, called me on Saturday morning to enquire about the night before:

"Hi Sophie, "chirped my mum, picking up the phone, "Have a good night? Still drunk? You didn't get arrested, did you?"

And so now I see why they get on so well.

. . .

But I have to revise this week; Monday and Tuesday bring the art exam, and on Wednesday I'm going for chinese at lunctime with Sophie, Gem and Ben. And, on Thursday evening, I may be line dancing.

It is a long, long story which I will save for another time.

And finally, in the words of Kim: "Bring on Sixth Form!"