A Day In My Life 20/03/2013

Wednesday's really are a bore. Not only does it start with an early morning meeting at 8.15, but it then proceeds to further maths, more further maths and music theory. And of course today would be the day coming back after missing 2 lessons of further maths that my teacher decides to as me whether or not I copied my friend's homework. How do you say, "Well sir, yes I did" in the best possible way to a retired headteacher? "Oh and by the way Tom, I am not sure about the commitment you are showing to this subject." Yet another tricky question. How to explain politely a sickness virus.

So after my little run in I was asked by my welsh music teacher to go and fetch a drum kit from the church in the village in which the school is situated. As you do. And one thing I know is you can't say no to a welsh person. So I grab my ginger friend and off we went in Lucy, my 1968 morris minor. Plenty more to come about Lucy in the future. 

The next challenge of the day was fitting a drum kit into the back of a morris minor traveller. For those who don't know, my car is basically an old fashioned Hurse. But for dwarfs. So after retrieving said drum kit from the vestry of this very nice church we jammed it all in the boot. Then came the shopping. So my friend had asked casually in the 6th form common room if anyone wanted anything from the shop. It came out to be a list on A4 paper which we needed a basket for and in the end came to the grand sum of £17.65. For a bunch of snacks for teenagers. The manager of the local supermarket must have been rubbing his hands together.

My friend made an outstanding job of settling everyone's bills though with a colour co-ordinated highlighting system on the receipt to show who had had what. He really did not hold back with making sure everyone had paid up either! It is quite difficult shopping for other people though. Someone asked us, "Can you get me something that is reduced?" To which we responded by buying them a broken Easter egg. Well what do you expect when you send 2 lads shopping in a morris minor?

With drum it safely retrieved from the God's Holy House and the hungry 6th form room fed and watered, it was time for my lunch time to be filled with yet again more monotonous drivel about matrices and second order differential equations and implicit differentiation. And if that wasn't bad enough, how about a musical history lesson of composers from the 20th Century. And trust me, there were some awful composers in the 20th Century!

Finally home, relaxing with a cuppa and enjoying a quiet evening in... Not. Working and then teaching some poor kid the clarinet. But on the bright side, one of my friends has got a part time job working at the Royal Shakespeare Company in Stratford, as in the one that does all the Shakespeare plays. I mean that beats cycling round the village delivering people's newspapers or serving up fish a chips to a load of builders! 

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Adventures in Minifigures - Part 2. The Boxer with a License to Kill

While the Royal Guard stood there pondering his role in life, a hulk like silhouette staggered proudly over the crest beyond the city and strode up the the city gate. 1 eye was blackened like soot and there were bloodied stains on his chest and gloves. His chest pushed out falsely, asserting what he had once been, while his eyes showed what he had become. 

With the storm clouds leading of in the distance, like a flock of geese, the setting sun bronzed the dilapidated walls of the city in cold winter sunlight 1 last time before it would set for a long and cold night.

The Boxer stood in front of the Guard, frozen still as a statue.The Boxer opened his crumpled mouth and uttered inquisitive words of the place which stood before him in booming words of pain and depth of knowledge deeper than the ocean. The Guard stood there is stony silence. He saw what confronted him and was puzzled by his movement and his grace. The Boxer grew impatient for an answer, and with no warning, lashed out at the Royal Guard with 1 clean and well timed punch. It hit the Guard with significant force. He just swayed backwards on his heels ever so gently, as if moved by the wind. This surprised the Boxer and he stood there with an expression somewhere between confusion and astonishment. The only response from the Guard was a tiny twitch of the nose, not noticeable to the human eye

There was a grinding rumbling noise coming for deep within the wall. The Boxer swivelled his head quickly to see a rusty and wind beaten wrought iron port cullis grumble and groan before him, before it grated against the sandstone that encased and started to rise painfully slowly upwards. 

As the Boxer stood bravely across the threshold, there was one last triumphant gush of wind which fluttered the Boxers shorts around his muscular thighs before dying away into the distant horizon which surrounded the walled city. The Boxer took in his surroundings...