Barmy Blue's Bland Blog

Right. Next up, last Saturday. Mum and I went to look at another university. To cut a long story short, it was great. We went to the English literature talk, then here and there, then we had lunch. They had these really tasty little sandwiches. There was a wide selection of cold finger foods on offer, like orange slices, melon slices, sandwiches and hot beverages or apple juice. Mum and I took some time to admire the abstract artwork on the walls. One looked like a pile of lettuce to me and another was a vegetable stir-fry. After that we went to the creative writing lecture. It was one hell of a let down. The teachers didn’t really say enough to fill 20 minutes and the main point of the discussion was bragging about the new website they were designing where students can submit their work and others can hear it. It ended with “any questions?” “Does anyone have any questions?” etc at least 5 or maybe even 7 minutes early. I was bored stiff. And I wasn’t the only one. The girl in the row behind me was pretending to take notes, but I could hear her pen coming down on the paper a lot, meaning she was making dots on the page. Now, if a talk is really griping your attention, you don’t draw dots. She was clearly as bored as I was. Then we had a pre booked tour. It was very good because we were the only ones that signed up for it so it was just us and our guide. Then we went to a rather fun lecture on student life and then wandered into finance. Everything about that University was perfect save for one thing. The creative writing. The one subject that I really want to study, my main subject.
Fair enough, for all I know they could be amazing teachers, but if they can’t hook me at the open day then I’m not so willing to risk my future.

Not much until yesterday.
The journey home was normal. I got to the station. Patiently waited for my next bus. I amused myself by watching a couple of pigeons savaging some discarded fried chicken bones. Then they flew away and I got bored waiting, so I figured I might look into mothers day gifts. Half way to BHS I came to the conclusion that it would be best when I didn’t have my huge bag and (If I decided to get that orchid I’d seen advertised at M&S It’d wilt by Sunday) I decided that I’d save it for Saturday. It was then that I discovered the commotion on the high road (The road my bus runs to and from the station on). I’d heard a bunch of sirens while watching the pigeons, so I guess I suspected something as up. People kept estimating that there were about 15 police cars, so I decided to count as I went. 11 cars, 3 vans and about 2-3 ambulances (Some more reinforcements arrived as I went along). I couldn’t be bothered to hang around and hope to find out what had happened, so I just walked home (It’s not that far, even for me). (I made a note of how many I saw on my MP3, so I wouldn’t forget when I got home, because I knew I wouldn’t blog last night.)
And that was that.

Today in Ms Miller’s English class we were bored and having trouble with the texts we were given to help us with our synoptic papers. I was sure I heard a fly somewhere, but I figured that it may have been a lawnmower somewhere. During the third lesson, when Ms Miller went out I stated I was sure I heard a fly. I got the odd mocking comments but I didn’t mind. Then I saw it. It wasn’t a fly at all. It was a wasp. I screamed. It was buzzing right next to another girl in front of me called Carly Holloway. I warned her. She got up and ran out with her friend Lana Ashford with her. I backed up against a wall and screamed, seeing as the wasp was cutting off my retreat to the door. Anita just put her hood up, afraid that it may be attracted to her red hair and huddled in the corner. Ms Miller came back and acted all teachery saying she’d swat it, but when it got near her she ducked and cowered like the rest of us. I started laughing, I couldn’t help it. It was all so funny really. Eventually one of the male staff came along and asked what was wrong. The wasp rested on a light and he swatted it with some rolled up paper and put it in the bin. Anita estimated it had taken fifteen minutes from discovery to disposal .
Dad dropped by, got his post and tried to install an aerial in the loft. He failed. When he came downstairs I began antagonising him with my MP3, to get him to say something. It was fun to listen to when I played it back to myself (I was really bored you see).
Well, I think that’s it.

Bluebiird out.