All days must end thus - at half past one in the morning in a carload of boys.
Friday was awful, I spent practically the whole day in bed, missed my play pratice, got completely disoriented and ate my breakfast at ten in the evening. Also, I couldn't do any work, watch any television or sit at the computer; imagine my plight!
Saturday was better; I slept till eleven, which is always a plus, and then went to my presentation practice at one p.m. Well, I tried, anyway. Landed up at slightly past two thanks to unexpectedly heavy traffic. Then followed some rather bizarre theatrics; because our overseeing directors all seemed to spend more time either saying "Chill, guys. Chill." and then pausing for rather an illogical amount of time, presumably to ensure we were all at the requisite temperature; or blowing up in a most spectacular way by reiterating a very pointed thought, such as "He said, 'All of you listen.' Not my problem if you didn't hear. No, he said 'All of you listen.' He said that." It was all the drama and tension anyone could desire, manifold. But they're such dears that it's impossible to stay mad at them too long. Until the next time, anyway :)
Then followed rehearsals and mess-ups, forgotten lines, dangerous props and sets, costume changes and a whole lot of confusion.
We put up our presentation at seven thirty, and it was a delicious success. I only wish I hadn't been directing my own play, I think I would have had an easier time; unfortunately it turned out to be rather unavoidable. But in the end, when you make your teacher cry because he feels rewarded, you can't really ask for more, can you?
Except perhaps three hours of laughing like loons, stuck between your two favourite people in your class, with a third a little way off; talking of grammars and phantasmagoria and other unmentionables. Oh, but it was a time. Pretty turns of phrase, agreeing to be agreeable, and the bites :) Indubitably, eh?
Back home at nearly two, and no scoldings forthcoming! Trust really is the key to freedom. And the brothers Singh are the keys to brains leaking out one's ears.
Life makes up for discomfort in rather spendid ways, to be sure.
And now the fever threatens again, so I will away.
Someone said I looked good in a sari.
And my parents are the best.
Friday was awful, I spent practically the whole day in bed, missed my play pratice, got completely disoriented and ate my breakfast at ten in the evening. Also, I couldn't do any work, watch any television or sit at the computer; imagine my plight!
Saturday was better; I slept till eleven, which is always a plus, and then went to my presentation practice at one p.m. Well, I tried, anyway. Landed up at slightly past two thanks to unexpectedly heavy traffic. Then followed some rather bizarre theatrics; because our overseeing directors all seemed to spend more time either saying "Chill, guys. Chill." and then pausing for rather an illogical amount of time, presumably to ensure we were all at the requisite temperature; or blowing up in a most spectacular way by reiterating a very pointed thought, such as "He said, 'All of you listen.' Not my problem if you didn't hear. No, he said 'All of you listen.' He said that." It was all the drama and tension anyone could desire, manifold. But they're such dears that it's impossible to stay mad at them too long. Until the next time, anyway :)
Then followed rehearsals and mess-ups, forgotten lines, dangerous props and sets, costume changes and a whole lot of confusion.
We put up our presentation at seven thirty, and it was a delicious success. I only wish I hadn't been directing my own play, I think I would have had an easier time; unfortunately it turned out to be rather unavoidable. But in the end, when you make your teacher cry because he feels rewarded, you can't really ask for more, can you?
Except perhaps three hours of laughing like loons, stuck between your two favourite people in your class, with a third a little way off; talking of grammars and phantasmagoria and other unmentionables. Oh, but it was a time. Pretty turns of phrase, agreeing to be agreeable, and the bites :) Indubitably, eh?
Back home at nearly two, and no scoldings forthcoming! Trust really is the key to freedom. And the brothers Singh are the keys to brains leaking out one's ears.
Life makes up for discomfort in rather spendid ways, to be sure.
And now the fever threatens again, so I will away.
Someone said I looked good in a sari.
And my parents are the best.
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