Saturday mornings are less to my liking. And it’s getting cold. Brrrr. That means practically chiseling ice off the car before going off to work. I know, I know. Everybody else has to do that. I just like whinging. Humour me.
I got to work, only to find that even more of the school is being renovated. I found this out by turning the corner to where my classroom normally is only to find the corridor boarded up and a sign (written by my boss) that was an affront to the English language. I’d try and remember how it went, but I think I’ve suppressed it. Needless to say, it was devoid of punctuation and any notion of spelling or grammar.
Instead, I taught in the staffroom, giving me a wonderful view of the M2 and the ability to have nine million cups of tea over the day. It wasn’t too bad. As always, the lesson for the Year 7 class was a lot more interesting, and involved reading the Jabberwocky and then making up nonsense words. The Year 8s had to read an extract from a book set in outback Australia. Eugh.
Then home, briefly, before going out for Rhys and Steph’s birthday. I caught the train in with Andrew, who was with a friend of his (that was going somewhere else). It became obvious fairly soon that she wasn’t quite normal. Shrooms will do that to you. Things like uncontrollable giggling and being freaked out by people’s shirts. There was also a girl in a corset and gold pants juggling. Trains are always fun.
We went first to a pub in Melbourne Central called The Lion. It was good to see people from high school I hadn’t seen in a while and the music didn’t make me want to vomit, so I’ll chalk that up as a win. After a while, we moved to the Toff, which was good. Didn’t really get too many photos of the night; I’m a bit self-conscious using flash in case it annoys people, and in any case it makes the photos look less interesting. Today’s Photo is instead a long-exposure one I took of people dancing at The Lion, with some waving of glow-sticks on the right.
We left and went to Maccas (of course) and then Scott drove me home. How nice of him. I lent him my Richard Branson autobiography in exchange. Quid pro quo, Agent Starling.