Every weekend I tell myself that this weekend, I’m going to be a proper little student and spend the free days preparing for the tests in peace and quiet. Come Friday, the mobile phone starts buzzing, and before you know it I’m at a pub and it is two thirty in the morning, and I’ve had one too many.
It is great for my romantic life because it means drunken snogging on the threshold at three in the morning when we come home, but it’s doing nothing for my academic prowess, and to be brutally honest I don’t really mind because I’ve played the model student for so long that I feel that I deserve to unwind and act more like a normal guy my age.
I am not very prone to binge drinking or getting into fights on High Street, but just because I’ve been at one extreme doesn’t mean I have to hurl myself at the other end of the spectrum. And I am reasonably confident that I will fulfil my prerequisites for getting into University, and therefore I do not strictly speaking need to study like a little squirrel in a nut yard.
Today thus I feel, to quote Tolkien, like to little butter spread out over too large a sandwich, and I’ve been fussing about here doing very little that has any purpose or plan. And tonight we’re probably going to go over to Stephen and do it all over again. And I have no energy to open my pile of notes and books.
I was supposed to have gone driving with Auntie today, but since there is not anything more despicable than a drunk driver, I will have to pass. And it would look really bad if I was locked in the nick for DUI before I even have a driving license, wouldn’t it?
I think it’s probably for the best that my parents don’t read my blog. Or maybe they do. Maybe I should ponder which posts to immediately nuke from this blog. If they do, maybe they’ll revoke my adult license. And mine is still so new it’s in the plastic wrapper. 🙂