Not enough cake corners. Help.
We are a flurry of activity at the moment, us sixth-formers. The only thing keeping me going is my amazing square lemon drizzle cake. Every time I walk into the kitchen in search of distraction in the form of a mug of tea, I am overcome by an incredible urge to gouge another corner from the cake. It is now completely corner-less. I am aiming for it to be perfectly round (with not a hint of its previous squaredom remaining as evidence) by this evening.
We are all free for a whole month in the sense that attending college is no longer compulsory. On the other hand, we are shackled to our desks (or in my case, the living room carpet) by the load of studying we must do to pass. Passing probably isn't the issue. It's more something psychological. A peace of mind thing. I have stocked up on pens and revision cards and gummi bears. Just in case everyone has the same idea, and the shops run out. It could be a bit like the whole rationing thing. With coupons. And hording. And ... an angry bang on the door signalling the arrival of an angry person come to angrily check you are not possessing too many gummi bears/pens/revision cards. Or maybe not.
My days are establishing a sluggish routine. A revision class in the morning, usually with a rendition of Land of Hope and Glory (or the National Anthem, depending) sung by the History lecturer to prep us up.
A few hours in Edwards with a coffee and my copy of Miller's Death of a Salesman/Blake's song of pebbles and clods/Film notes, surrounded by smoke and chain-smokers and smoking ashtrays and smoke-rings blown from all sides in a sort of protest against my unwillingness to brandish a cigarette myself.
Home to eat the corners of cake, check mail, revise for a few hours. Bed in the early hours of the morning, after having rambled away at some poor person for at least an hour about nothing much other than the state of my socks, and how if I put them on in a certain way, they resemble knitted ice-picks.
A month of this. And I am already stir-crazy. There is a limit to the number of square lemon drizzle cakes I can make in a day.
We are all free for a whole month in the sense that attending college is no longer compulsory. On the other hand, we are shackled to our desks (or in my case, the living room carpet) by the load of studying we must do to pass. Passing probably isn't the issue. It's more something psychological. A peace of mind thing. I have stocked up on pens and revision cards and gummi bears. Just in case everyone has the same idea, and the shops run out. It could be a bit like the whole rationing thing. With coupons. And hording. And ... an angry bang on the door signalling the arrival of an angry person come to angrily check you are not possessing too many gummi bears/pens/revision cards. Or maybe not.
My days are establishing a sluggish routine. A revision class in the morning, usually with a rendition of Land of Hope and Glory (or the National Anthem, depending) sung by the History lecturer to prep us up.
A few hours in Edwards with a coffee and my copy of Miller's Death of a Salesman/Blake's song of pebbles and clods/Film notes, surrounded by smoke and chain-smokers and smoking ashtrays and smoke-rings blown from all sides in a sort of protest against my unwillingness to brandish a cigarette myself.
Home to eat the corners of cake, check mail, revise for a few hours. Bed in the early hours of the morning, after having rambled away at some poor person for at least an hour about nothing much other than the state of my socks, and how if I put them on in a certain way, they resemble knitted ice-picks.
A month of this. And I am already stir-crazy. There is a limit to the number of square lemon drizzle cakes I can make in a day.
kiwiqueen - 14. May, 20:27
I am a font of knowledge when it comes to your studies, what with my awesome help with the french and now this...*grows big head* :P
I like this post. And lemon drizzle cakes.