Monday, May 07, 2007


Today I set myself less revision than I had time to do, rather than the other way round, which makes a rather refreshing change, although sadly I feel compelled to fill this final hour with at least some work. I have been informed, during a drunken evening of debauchery (well, a drunken evening anyway) that I have to go to the ball, and thus, cinderella like, I shall go. But probably not in a pumpkin. In all probability there will not be a carriage involved. Apart from a bus, which does not count.

I have problems with balls, mainly because they conjure up ideas of the hideous things we had at school, were loud, awful music would play while we would sit bored glancing across the room at the girls, or the handful of couples that were attempting to slow dance to agadoo. Then at some point the dj would make us sing along to summer loving.

Actually the most appallingly embarrasing part of discos was a later development, when someone would play that song from the full monty, and a bunch of guys would get on stage and strip. Or rather, they'd be too embarrased to strip, so would unbutton their shirts INCREDIBLY slowly. Oh memories.

Bizzarely, a friend of mine wrote a song about me failing to ask a girl to dance at a ball (entitled "Do it Next Year,"), which I actually quite enjoyed. Even more bizzarely, this is not the only time one of my friends has written a song about my love life (or lack thereof).


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