Nosebleed Season

That's right, kids. It's back again. I woke up this morning drenched in my own blood, my pillow absolutely soaked in the stuff. Oh good, I thought. Here comes the time of year where I have to make sure I've always got plenty of tissues in my pocket to prevent that all-too-likely blood flow from tainting everything it touches. Here comes the time of year where I have to rush out of lessons, followed by bewildered looks from the teachers, as I dash out, leaving chairs overturned and work sheets floating round the room like big floaty sheets of paper that, uh, float. And here comes the time of year where Emma has to mop up the splots of blood I leave on the desks/chairs/carpets/worksheets/Katy.

Woohoo.

But as I've said before, I don't actually mind the nosebleeds. In fact, I look forward to them. It means that I can spit blood at people who I don't like (ie. everyone). It means that I can escape lessons for a bit, and visit the rest of the Qs who are inevitably seeking refuge (also known as bunking, skiving etc.) in the Year 11 toilets . And, the blood is such a nice colour. I think I had my hair that colour once. Before it went orange, of course. But really. And it's really fun if you sneeze whilst in the midst of a nosebleed. All the blood splatters absolutely everywhere. It's like modern art. Well, I'd buy it, anyway.