"And then they force them to marry them and do sex with them"

Well, I am now partaking in a three week long placement at Salesian school. I know, I know. But there have been no bottle throwings, as of yet. It is almost an accomplishment for me to still be alive, actually. That might have more to do with the fact that none of the children know that I am a posh lesbian from the school down the road. It's just easier that way. And safer, I think. But school is school. I sit in lessons, my head resting on my chin, my eyes struggling to remain open as I stifle a yawn. I make sparse notes that relate little or not at all to the topic. I doodle stars over the title and the corner of the page. Not much has changed, except that now I have to wear smart clothes, which are, surprisingly, more uncomfortable than school uniform. As at school, I am nervously awaiting results that I should have worked harder for, prepared more for, hell, I should have actually read all three of the novels that I wrote about in my dissertation (I'm sure you can guess that it was Shirley that proved to be an impossible read. I mean, it's called SHIRLEY, it was never going to be good). School tends to be dull, it has to be said. The children do say some amusing things, though, from 'May I use incest?' to 'The moon looks like a Babybel in the sky'. Both of which I liked. The teachers themselves are entertaining, and are actually just as immature as the children. Which I also like. The notice board, which said, 'The dress code for Monday is Inset dress', someone had changed it to 'Insect dress', and drawn wasps all over it. I liked that a lot. Yeah, alright, it loses something in translation, but shut up.

In other news, next week I am going to Glastonbury, although the coach tickets have not yet arrived, meaning that we are unable to get there, and then also unable to get the actual tickets meaning that we will not be allowed on to the site, which, in turn, would mean that I would miss Muse. And that's not good. If this non ticket arriving thing continues, I will be forced to board the coach in a buccaneering, piratey way, take over the controls, drive helter skelter down the motorway, steal ALL the tickets so that no one else can get into the site, meaning that I will be able to see my Muse, with as much space as I like to lie around and listen to the nice nice music. Failing that, I will call the hotline, and request that they send my ticket ASAP. So yeah. Logic and whatnot.

I'm not really sure what inspired my return to the blogosphere, apart from the fact that the computer was near, and that it popped into my head. I'm not even going to pretend that I will continue to write on this. It's just another sporadic post. For no one to read.