Hmm. It seems Jamie has found the entrance to my lair.
I'd like to say that I did know you had tonsilitis, but only after that post, if you recall. And no, this wasn't meant to be secret, it's just you don't use msn, so it never came up in conversation.
Blurgh. Three year 8 groups tomorrow. Ugh.
28 November 2005
27 November 2005
Have gifted myself some lovely, fluffy socks from Gap. One of the things in which one can find true joy is a pair of comfy socks. Or three, in various colours of stripe. I have a theory about feet and hands: if you keep them the right temperature, everything else will follow. It takes longest to get blood to them, so, theoretically, if they're right, everything before them has to have been right. A slightly tautological argument, but thus it stands. Hence, if you're too hot in bed and you stick your feet out, it solves the problem. I have terrible trouble with sleeping bags: I can't roll the bottom up under my feet, so they get cold and I can't sleep properly.
Fled from flat to shop with H and discuss Desdemona's terrifying dress sense (tee hee). Since S is still under house arrest, Des, it's going to have to be you who gets married next. We've got it all planned out - that and H's dream house complete with stripper barracks and boudoir (which she pronounces quite strangely).
Everyone is going out with Dutchmen. R (can't remember whether I've mentioned her. Trainee Accountant) shagged one last the night before last (6'4") and Jamie announced that one of our mutual friends was out on a date with another one last night (height as yet unrevealed). Bah. I want one. Failing that, a Roboraptor.
Hmm. Listening to the Goblet of Fire soundtrack. Jarvis Cocker seems to have rhymed "spectre" with "out to getcha". That's been a hum of mine since I was 8. I've always thought it was crap, but never been able to eradicate it from my memory. Apparently I'm a songwriting genius after all.
Fled from flat to shop with H and discuss Desdemona's terrifying dress sense (tee hee). Since S is still under house arrest, Des, it's going to have to be you who gets married next. We've got it all planned out - that and H's dream house complete with stripper barracks and boudoir (which she pronounces quite strangely).
Everyone is going out with Dutchmen. R (can't remember whether I've mentioned her. Trainee Accountant) shagged one last the night before last (6'4") and Jamie announced that one of our mutual friends was out on a date with another one last night (height as yet unrevealed). Bah. I want one. Failing that, a Roboraptor.
Hmm. Listening to the Goblet of Fire soundtrack. Jarvis Cocker seems to have rhymed "spectre" with "out to getcha". That's been a hum of mine since I was 8. I've always thought it was crap, but never been able to eradicate it from my memory. Apparently I'm a songwriting genius after all.
26 November 2005
Gotta love painters of chubby women
Reubens definitely had better taste than most men of today. That's all I'm saying. Every single woman he painted definitely has a less than svelte midriff.
Having posted my gown to my jolly pal in Plymouth (she gets to wear it for her school awards thingy - pah), I thought I'd go and see about the only major exhibition left in London that I haven't seen. I've taken to doing this on a Saturday, to get out of the vicinity of the fuckwit. Said Obnoxious Flatmate and I seem to have come to an unspoken understanding - literally. We simply pretend we're invisible to each other. The exhibition was pretty good.
On the way, went on a Christmas present research mission. Mother's pestering me and threatening to ring at seven tomorrow morning if I don't come up with some ideas. I'm thinking a Nintendo DS... to make up for that Gameboy I never had. :p
Having posted my gown to my jolly pal in Plymouth (she gets to wear it for her school awards thingy - pah), I thought I'd go and see about the only major exhibition left in London that I haven't seen. I've taken to doing this on a Saturday, to get out of the vicinity of the fuckwit. Said Obnoxious Flatmate and I seem to have come to an unspoken understanding - literally. We simply pretend we're invisible to each other. The exhibition was pretty good.
On the way, went on a Christmas present research mission. Mother's pestering me and threatening to ring at seven tomorrow morning if I don't come up with some ideas. I'm thinking a Nintendo DS... to make up for that Gameboy I never had. :p
20 November 2005
Prospect of Tranquility
A descision has been made. The Gruesome Twosome are moving out on the 18th of December. Now, since we all have to hand in our keys together, that means I am too. Thus, dear readers, that means we have less than a month left in each others' (not sure about that apostrophe) company. I've managed not to exchange a single word with Obnoxious Flatmate all week, which has improved our relationship immeasurably.
Isn't Goblet of Fire awesome? The acting has improved, the CGI is spectacular, and Alan Rickman looked like he was wearing Armani. Felt a bit cheated by the brevity of certain bits, such as the World Cup, but in general, pleased with the film. Shame they skipped the blasting of the rose bushes, though. Much funnier than the previous three, also.
Jamie has a sore throat, despite which he manages to moan about it quite manfully, i.e. a lot. Kept him company yesterday while he sat on the sofa ensconced in a duvet and blanket watching crappy TMF number ones.
Just had coffee with H. Apparently S's father and brother have found out about her secret boyfriend and put her under house arrest so that she can't see him. Her mum's in Sri Lanka sorting out a bloke for her middle sister, and won't be back for a couple of weeks, so S is housebound in the company of two hurt, suspicious men. Said boyfriend, as I think I've said before, is actually eminently suitable - it's not like he's a non-Tamil unemployed guitarist or something. However, the menfolk remain as yet unconvinced that he isn't just after a visa. Very Jane Austen.
Desdemona has far more fun than me. It's not fair. All I have to look forward to is the year 11s going on study leave at the end of this week.
Bah.
Isn't Goblet of Fire awesome? The acting has improved, the CGI is spectacular, and Alan Rickman looked like he was wearing Armani. Felt a bit cheated by the brevity of certain bits, such as the World Cup, but in general, pleased with the film. Shame they skipped the blasting of the rose bushes, though. Much funnier than the previous three, also.
Jamie has a sore throat, despite which he manages to moan about it quite manfully, i.e. a lot. Kept him company yesterday while he sat on the sofa ensconced in a duvet and blanket watching crappy TMF number ones.
Just had coffee with H. Apparently S's father and brother have found out about her secret boyfriend and put her under house arrest so that she can't see him. Her mum's in Sri Lanka sorting out a bloke for her middle sister, and won't be back for a couple of weeks, so S is housebound in the company of two hurt, suspicious men. Said boyfriend, as I think I've said before, is actually eminently suitable - it's not like he's a non-Tamil unemployed guitarist or something. However, the menfolk remain as yet unconvinced that he isn't just after a visa. Very Jane Austen.
Desdemona has far more fun than me. It's not fair. All I have to look forward to is the year 11s going on study leave at the end of this week.
Bah.
12 November 2005
3-2
Watching the game against Argentina. Bloody hell.
Now why couldn't they have done that in the last World Cup?
Now why couldn't they have done that in the last World Cup?
Make the brushstrokes go away...
Saturday seems to have been designated art and chillaxing day. I usually creep out of the flat at about 11, trying for as little interaction with the gruesome twosome as possible - managed no speech at all today. Glorious feeling of freedom hits me as I walk up and down the hill to Costa, where I avoid ex-Year 11s and buy a small vanilla latte. I used to get an almond croissant as well, but the combination of those two and trains doesn't always turn out well. First sip of coffee produces an almost post-orgasmic glow. I try to speak to people as little as possible.
When I was at university, I craved company all the time. Couldn't stand to spend more than an hour on my own. Never would've imagined desperately needing a day out of contact with anyone. The longest conversation I've had today was with the woman who entered my membership details into the Tate computer.
The Degas etc exhibition was very good. Much more satisfying than Munch at the Royal Academy. Going round to Jamie's tomorrow for lunch and an Almodovar film about bondage.
When I was at university, I craved company all the time. Couldn't stand to spend more than an hour on my own. Never would've imagined desperately needing a day out of contact with anyone. The longest conversation I've had today was with the woman who entered my membership details into the Tate computer.
The Degas etc exhibition was very good. Much more satisfying than Munch at the Royal Academy. Going round to Jamie's tomorrow for lunch and an Almodovar film about bondage.
05 November 2005
Six Weeks til the End of Term
Fairly banal week. The problem with teaching is that one feels the grind of doing the same thing at the same time every week more profoundly, methinks. Happily, the schedule changes every year.
Highlight of the week was the first episode of Rome. Apparently my head of department recommended this to Year 9 (13 year olds)... oh dear. What struck me most, unexpectedly, was the opening credits - no blaring trumpets and creatively animated Pompeian graffiti. All the more excellent for not being anticipated. Accuracy's generally good, other than shifting the death of Caesar's daughter back two years. I loathe Octavian (should really be called Octavius at this stage, but I'll let that go), so well done Max Pirkis for making him seem an utter tosser. Raaah. Having Mr Collins (David Bamber) play Cicero was a stroke of masterful genius. The two characters are very similar, which I'd not considered before: sycophantic, yet self-important. Perfect.
One of my form has invented a religion: Ishism. We've decided that we'll all espouse this and its principle creed of having as many relgious holidays as possible. I'm going to Oxford to see Helen and watch fireworks tomorrow. In the rain. And I've left my umbrella at school.
Ungh.
Highlight of the week was the first episode of Rome. Apparently my head of department recommended this to Year 9 (13 year olds)... oh dear. What struck me most, unexpectedly, was the opening credits - no blaring trumpets and creatively animated Pompeian graffiti. All the more excellent for not being anticipated. Accuracy's generally good, other than shifting the death of Caesar's daughter back two years. I loathe Octavian (should really be called Octavius at this stage, but I'll let that go), so well done Max Pirkis for making him seem an utter tosser. Raaah. Having Mr Collins (David Bamber) play Cicero was a stroke of masterful genius. The two characters are very similar, which I'd not considered before: sycophantic, yet self-important. Perfect.
One of my form has invented a religion: Ishism. We've decided that we'll all espouse this and its principle creed of having as many relgious holidays as possible. I'm going to Oxford to see Helen and watch fireworks tomorrow. In the rain. And I've left my umbrella at school.
Ungh.
Well, this is depressing...
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: |  6.1 |
| Mind: |  6.6 |
| Body: |  5 |
| Spirit: | 6 |
| Friends/Family: | 5.6 |
| Love: |  0 |
| Finance: |  7.7 |
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