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Wednesday 6.3.02 | Major panic this week is looming oral exams. German is not so much of a problem becuase I can't possibly prepare for it (I actually am relishing the challenge of talking crap in a language which isn't my own about a topic which I probably haven't the first clue about - reckless fool that I am,) however French is much more problematic. I am examined on the material which we are meant to have collected throughout the year in our oral classes (no smirks, please, teacher was rank), which may I just say were crap, shit, bollocks, balls, rubbish, de merde, scheiss; in short, deplorably bad .This meant that, through my dumb rage at being made to sit through these classes, I skived loads and took no notes in the ones I did attend. Silly me. The dossier (have just tried to write soddier - I think this says a lot, personally) is in tomorrow morning, and then finally 'in' for my examiners to look over next Friday. Before then, I need to dream up about a terms' worth of material to fill out the damn thing in order to have something to say in my exam and not fail. And goodness me am I having fun. While I'm on the subject, I might as well say that I'm also trying to fling together ideas for what the hell I'm going to write the French side of my dissertation on next year. I have wondered whether female arm-pit hair is a viable topic (given that there's so much of it over the Manche,) but sadly not, it seems. I'd love to put up on here Max's suggestion, but I fear some ardent feminist would come along and rip our collective balls off - either this or I would be arrested for offending the public. Having said this, I'm still giggling at his suggesion. Perhaps I will put it up. Tomorrow. Thursday 7.3.02 You may be aware that I was writing yesterday's entry mostly as a way not to go back to writing this French dossier thing. You are right. I have just come back to it this morning, and what I produced last night is quite amazingly bad - it's so shoddily put together that I can actually see the sentence where I run out of things to say and start to write crap. Oh how I'm looking forward to getting this piece of work back... Monday 11.3.02 Sort-of nice to be back in civilisation after whistle-stop tour to Yorkshire. Knew I'd arrived up north after the electricity failed, the water-supply cut off and the temperature dipped low enough to freeze-dry one's nether regions, but it was vertiable bliss compared to the stresses and and smells of the Big Smoke, which made arriving into the dark rain of King's Cross all the more painful. Train back also stopped every between here and West Bumblefuck, which didn't really help my mood. Saw lots of old faces (including the classically-named lab technician, Mrs. Bollard,) and lots of scary people I didn't know too. Plus ca change...
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