Ooh la la

Now. I'm not saying I don't really enjoy the academic challenges of Sixth Form; I am, however, beginning to feel that they are overestimating our 'talents'.

Evidence: our AS French class will, if everything goes smoothly, be partaking in work experience in France next summer. For two weeks, we will be living, breathing and working French. All very exciting, but, in our class, trying to get some of the people to just do the homework, without copying it off the internet translator, est la pierre d'achoppement. But, I suppose, what is life without a bloody good challenge?

Questions from Lal's questionnaire: no. 1: What is the most-listened to album in your collection?
A. OK Computer, by Radiohead.

So, of course, it's been another hectic week, the first of the new half term. In which I have learnt the following:

• The key to retaining your dignity: don't drink.
• Victorian poetry: strangely endearing.
• The answer to every problem, in every subject: shut the hell up and make some notes!

Quickly sweeping the drunken debris of half term under the carpet, we're back, and we're trying to think. I'm reading both Mansfield Park and Possession; in fact, a scarily big chunk of my free time is now taken up with reading. I mentioned this to Mr. T in an e-mail and recieved the following reply:

"But you'll never be bored again. And, as a future university student of English, it's good to get somewhere close to the workload you'll receive."

Somewhere close? Bloody hell.

No 2. And the album you listen to when you feel the entire world is against you?

A. Martha Wainwright, by Martha Wainwright. Because no one spits accusations and laments lost love quite like her.

And, in our spare time, we've made ourselves Ayla's personal councillors. Apparently, we've made some wise suggestions, much in the manner of marriage guidance councillors. Yeah right. The thing is, though, even though we may offer completely ineffectual advice, like "kick him", our hearts are in the right place. And, for some sick reason, we really enjoy being in the thick of things when it comes to messy break-ups. My inner sadist, definitely.

Salisbury next week. Ten hours of fucking coach travel for ninety minutes of vaguely amusing social comedy. As Ben said, we should have just sent someone up there with a video camera. Now, it seems, we will be spending the day eating chips at motorway service station whilst the driver takes obligatory 'rest breaks'. I think I'm being strangled to death by red tape. Rules and regulations: who needs 'em?

And, finally, number 3: Does musical perfection exist?

Yes. Grace, by Jeff Buckley. The man had a voice like nothing else on earth - and the songs are beautiful. And anyone with the audacity to cover Corpus Christ Carol is, quite frankly, inspired.

- "Daniel Vettori is my future husband."

- "Oh really? You'll have to fight me for him!"