Must. Get. Rid. Of. Hangover. It's been five days. Spent the weekend in Surrey getting drunk in the conservatory with dad while mum whizzed around the house like a poltergeist with a pastel paint fetish. In two days she turned the utility room into a relaxation space and the bog under the stairs into an inglenook. Personally I blame Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen.
Monday. The new head asked me to give an assembly on gratitude. Spent the morning fretting over what I'm supposed to feel grateful for. Then opted for a poetry reading and a rendition of All Things Bright and Beautiful. Which was great, apart from the phrase "purple-headed mountains" which appeared to have a peculiar effect on Year 10.
Down to my last pound;50. This is stretching relations with my lawyer flatmate to breaking point. She appears to think that sauntering about like some haute couture Mother Teresa dispensing cast-off clothes is the way to win my affections. She has even suggested I keep her skinny jeans because they're, "More your size". Translation: I have a backside like a Megabus.
To cheer me up, Annette offered to take me for a pint. Two hours later, I was cowering in a booth at the Green Man while she slid around the dance floor on her knees belting out Lady Marmalade. Sadly, the two decorators she was eyeing up looked more interested in a coin-operated Who Wants to be a Millionaire? quiz machine. I dragged her off to the bus stop. But not before she attempted the vertical splits.
Shock news. Oliver from drama has already started writing the staff Christmas panto. He won't reveal the plot yet but apparently it's going to be "very cutting edge". Steve is going to play Princess Diana, I'm down for Osama Bin Laden and Annette has bagged the plum role of Jesus. "Let's face it, it's the only part where you can just lie around burping and farting," she said. "Nothing like a bit of method acting," mumbled Steve from PE.
Anyway, sorry to hear about the textbook shortage in Kuala Lumpur! Would lend you mine but can't afford the stamp.
Love Kate x