The Writing on the Wall
Our form class took the assembly at school this morning. Thanks to the suggestion of some imbecile in the year below us, our topic for the assembly was... ABBA. Yeah. I don't know either. I just had to read some sentence about the Eurovision Song Contest then stand on stage looking awkward until it was all over. We hadn't done so much as a full rehearsal and it was widely agreed afterwards that on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being craptastic and 10 being craptacular, we were a solid 5.
A funny thing happened in school today. We have one wall of our room (i.e. the room with all the consoles in it) in the Sixth Year common room that's blank, the others having all been painted on in some way. I came in this morning and, while I was doing my usual tidying up of all the cables that somehow get tangled up every day, I noticed that Skippy had written his timetable on the wall. Actually on the wall. In pen.
Philippa, a friend of mine who normally takes up responsibility for keeping the room tidy, asked me about it, since she had been off school for the previous two days. I had to admit that I had no idea and so we questioned Skippy about it when he came in. Well, maybe questioning is the wrong word. I pointed at the wall and said “WTF, Skippy?”, but the end result is the same.
It transpired that somebody had thought yesterday that, since it was a pain in the neck always having to look up your timetable when you forgot what lesson you were missing the first five minutes of to play just one more lap of Mario Kart, they may as well write their timetable on the wall.
There's now about a dozen of the things up there, mine included.
The strange thing is how we each did our own one in a kind of unique way. Mine, as Sam pointed out, was probably the neatest one up there, clearly marked with more or less straight lines and room numbers in the corners of the boxes. His own was a more or less illegible scrawl with half the lessons filled in by trial-and-error and wild guesswork. Sam Potter's was barely visible but written in large letters and with the rows and columns reversed from everyone else's. Skippy's was fairly organised and in a convenient spot by the door, neatly arranged along with several other people's that I think he had also put up.
Other people that I don't mention so much did their timetables in their own way too. Philippa quickly just wrote up one that, while practical and visible, took up about five times as much space as any of the others. Joss's (I've never mentioned him before and probably won't ever again) was left unfinished and mostly blank until Sam Stafford came along and randomly wrote “Biology” in a few places. I have mentioned Jimerson before and his... well, I didn't get a good look at it, but it was near to Skippy's and some of it was probably wrong.
I'm not entirely sure what all this says about each person and I wouldn't want anyone to draw any conclusions based on how my friends draw their timetables on a wall, but, in context, all of them make some kind of sense for each person. Of course, writing your timetable on a wall might not seem to make much sense to begin with but... somehow, for my little crowd of friends and non-hated acquaintances, it does. Otherwise, I don't think I could count them as friends.
A funny thing happened in school today. We have one wall of our room (i.e. the room with all the consoles in it) in the Sixth Year common room that's blank, the others having all been painted on in some way. I came in this morning and, while I was doing my usual tidying up of all the cables that somehow get tangled up every day, I noticed that Skippy had written his timetable on the wall. Actually on the wall. In pen.
Philippa, a friend of mine who normally takes up responsibility for keeping the room tidy, asked me about it, since she had been off school for the previous two days. I had to admit that I had no idea and so we questioned Skippy about it when he came in. Well, maybe questioning is the wrong word. I pointed at the wall and said “WTF, Skippy?”, but the end result is the same.
It transpired that somebody had thought yesterday that, since it was a pain in the neck always having to look up your timetable when you forgot what lesson you were missing the first five minutes of to play just one more lap of Mario Kart, they may as well write their timetable on the wall.
There's now about a dozen of the things up there, mine included.
The strange thing is how we each did our own one in a kind of unique way. Mine, as Sam pointed out, was probably the neatest one up there, clearly marked with more or less straight lines and room numbers in the corners of the boxes. His own was a more or less illegible scrawl with half the lessons filled in by trial-and-error and wild guesswork. Sam Potter's was barely visible but written in large letters and with the rows and columns reversed from everyone else's. Skippy's was fairly organised and in a convenient spot by the door, neatly arranged along with several other people's that I think he had also put up.
Other people that I don't mention so much did their timetables in their own way too. Philippa quickly just wrote up one that, while practical and visible, took up about five times as much space as any of the others. Joss's (I've never mentioned him before and probably won't ever again) was left unfinished and mostly blank until Sam Stafford came along and randomly wrote “Biology” in a few places. I have mentioned Jimerson before and his... well, I didn't get a good look at it, but it was near to Skippy's and some of it was probably wrong.
I'm not entirely sure what all this says about each person and I wouldn't want anyone to draw any conclusions based on how my friends draw their timetables on a wall, but, in context, all of them make some kind of sense for each person. Of course, writing your timetable on a wall might not seem to make much sense to begin with but... somehow, for my little crowd of friends and non-hated acquaintances, it does. Otherwise, I don't think I could count them as friends.
posted by Alasdair Corbett at
11:33 PM
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