When all else fails, counting ceiling tiles can sometimes work.
My left arm is currently almost numb. Why, you ask? Well, as my friend Garrie carried out his new/old Performa, I was laden with a printer under each arm until we reached his car. At that point, I put one in the boot and took the other for myself. I think he got the better deal, since he took the one with the power cable.
There's something wonderfully ironic about the fact that prizewinners at school are rewarded by having to sit through a three hours of the mind-numbing boredom known as a "Speech Day rehearsal". During this "rehearsal", those that have been chosen as the most talented pupils in the school who haven't gone on holiday already practice "sitting down for a long time" before a brief interlude of "walking" followed by more "sitting down".
This is normally an exceptionally dull affair, made worse by the fact that everyone else just gets to goof off, but I was fortunate this year. Several of my friends managed, by a combination of flukes, bribery and freak accidents, to get prizes this year and, by yet more flukes, I ended up sitting next to Sam during the proceedings.
Thus, a running commentary was kept on the bowing and curtsying abilities of the primary school pupils, jokes were made about a certain overachiever simply going up on the stage with a bag marked "swag" and, when we grew tired of mocking the proceedings, we simply discussed all manner of topics from Doctor Who (an obvious favourite) to the problems and wonders of old computers (another obvious favourite).
For some reason, nobody clapped during the practice and they weren't overly strict about us talking during it, so the whole thing seemed to pass much faster. The moral of the story is that, even in a boring situation, a good conversationalist can make all the difference. A book to read and something to play games on can also help. But the best defence against boredom is, according to the educational system, to be an underachiever or to be on holiday.
On a vaguely related note, something else which helps time fly is comedy sketches on YouTube (I'm not linking it; you shuld know what it is). I've just discovered the Reduced Shakespeare Company and become addicted to the Robot Hell song from Futurama, which I looked up on a whim.
There's something wonderfully ironic about the fact that prizewinners at school are rewarded by having to sit through a three hours of the mind-numbing boredom known as a "Speech Day rehearsal". During this "rehearsal", those that have been chosen as the most talented pupils in the school who haven't gone on holiday already practice "sitting down for a long time" before a brief interlude of "walking" followed by more "sitting down".
This is normally an exceptionally dull affair, made worse by the fact that everyone else just gets to goof off, but I was fortunate this year. Several of my friends managed, by a combination of flukes, bribery and freak accidents, to get prizes this year and, by yet more flukes, I ended up sitting next to Sam during the proceedings.
Thus, a running commentary was kept on the bowing and curtsying abilities of the primary school pupils, jokes were made about a certain overachiever simply going up on the stage with a bag marked "swag" and, when we grew tired of mocking the proceedings, we simply discussed all manner of topics from Doctor Who (an obvious favourite) to the problems and wonders of old computers (another obvious favourite).
For some reason, nobody clapped during the practice and they weren't overly strict about us talking during it, so the whole thing seemed to pass much faster. The moral of the story is that, even in a boring situation, a good conversationalist can make all the difference. A book to read and something to play games on can also help. But the best defence against boredom is, according to the educational system, to be an underachiever or to be on holiday.
On a vaguely related note, something else which helps time fly is comedy sketches on YouTube (I'm not linking it; you shuld know what it is). I've just discovered the Reduced Shakespeare Company and become addicted to the Robot Hell song from Futurama, which I looked up on a whim.
posted by Alasdair Corbett at
11:25 PM
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