Bubble Baths and Macaroons

Aaahhhhh... That was a sigh, not a scream, so fret not dear reader. I'm ready for a little sleep after being treated to tea and cake by A (oh, the joys of having a friend avec automobile), and now that my shoulders have been prised down from around my ears in knots of turmoil and stress. So much for attempts at being cool and blase about impending oral; the tension and downright fear made itself evident through means other than mental breakdown and instead crunched my neck muscles, and twisted sinew. Mind you, the whole french (shudder, even the mention of the word makes me break out in hives) oral build up was far from histrionics free, as is the kirk way, the brunt being borne by the surprisingly unfased and dependable stalwart of pops. Mental note: really need to work on the whole procrastination issue, I really should know this by now. Guess I'm just putting it off. But, and mark this comment as it will most likely not make a repeat appearance, Mr R came good. A wholeheartedly relaxing, stress free, and dare I say it, successful experience. Well, for a sheer terror inducing, heartstoppingly scary, brain frazzling exam that is. Ritual burning of oral notes and french ramblings will occur this evening, complete with victory dance.

I am planning the Wednesday evenings of all Wednesday evenings. Newspaper (the interesting, superficial section as opposed to the serious issue based news bits that require thought, sympathy and a tuned in brain of course), luxurious bath complete with bubbles galore and hefty magazine, cup of tea with macaroon, and saving the best till last, the great modern miracle that is Neighbours. God bless Bree, Stinger and all the other spiggin' hufters. Parfait. And the cherry on the top is that I don't have to feel guilty about these indulgences as the french oral is o-v-e-r. No more exams for, ooh...atleast five days.

Lie ins, frantic and intense Currie sessions, mindless reading of unimproving literature, daytime tv, and pencil sharpening in preparation await in all their bounteous glory. Study leave (a contradiction in terms if ever there was one, is any 'study' going to take place for the vast majority? I cynically think not), I salute you.

Hmm... I wonder if there's a blank sudoku kicking around this haven of industrial activity and hotbed of intelectualism (quite literally actually; it is more than a little toasty and airless, perhaps beneficial to the molding of minds) that is the LRC. Is that Leach Ridden Circus, or Lame Reading Cage, or indeed something entirely different I muse as I head off for lunch.