Saturday, 5 July 2014

You're thinking about something, and it makes you forget to talk

I hate the summer term.  It's nearly the end of the year, but it simultaneously drags and races by.  The days are long and the weeks are short, I suppose, would be the best way to describe it.  Reports, assessments, rewrite reports, format assessments, reformat assessments, cry quietly, try to run on a pulled calf muscle, swear loudly.

We've been busy too.  A social life, who would have guessed it.  A rather fine wedding, where I wore my new Anna dress, and I still haven't got a decent photo of it being worn, drank rather a lot of vodka and danced a lot, ending up with the pulled calf muscle.  I could barely walk on Sunday, but still just about managed to limp round to the pub for lunch.  By the way, if you are in Ealing, the Drayton is not as good as it used to be.  The food is good, but not great for the price - salmon and spinach, roast beef, sausage and mash, twice, orange juice and a diet coke came to nearly £50.  Ridiculous.

I even went out last night too, and I'm going out twice next week.  I don't know how I'll cope with the whole social whirl.  The party on Friday is in Peckham, God only knows how I'll get there, and more importantly, get home. I do not want to drive, as there will be cocktails and dancing and I like both of those things.

There's not a lot left to say really.  I'm overtired and fed up with this term, and really looking forward to the holidays.  That might kick start me into actually writing more.

No comments:

Post a Comment