and all that I have is all that I want

Results day are bittersweet affairs. With some people crying from happiness, there are always others that are crying from pure disappointment. Whether everyone earned the marks they got or not doesn’t matter, you have your marks and all you need to do now is look forward, whether that means looking forward to resits in June or not. As it happens, I got 100% in my psychology module but that’s neither here nor there (I hated saying that to people I know who do psychology, especially in my class, but I am hugely proud of myself . And, instead of allowing myself to be complacent , I’ve been working hard on the current module cause I have a mark I can’t even beat… but getting close to equalling it would be amazing.)

That was yesterday and most people are over it all. Right now I’m sat in the computers at college, wasting away my afternoon off. I didn’t go home because of Jazz Band at lunch meant I missed my bus and I’m not doing work right now because of Jazz Band exhausting me out. One of my earphones isn’t working but I managed to alter the settings on the computer enough to make it sound like it was working. It was an act of pure genius, seriously.

I was walking to the bus stop today, with my bari sax because it’s a Friday and therefore Jazz Band day… Maeve was running off somewhere in front of me and I moved my shoulder slightly, I don’t even know why. My baritone chose that moment to slip off my shoulder and fall to the floor, colliding with the back of my calf as it did so. I sat down on the bari case, yelling after Maeve and trying to act as classy as possible without showing myself up too much (a coach load of Bolton School kids was parked on the other side of the road and, no doubt, I was being watched. It’s not the most conspicuous of things to carry.) My natural painkillers kicked in but they’ve worn off now and my leg vaguely hurts every so often. It promises to bruise quite satisfactorily.

I go to Montpellier, France on Sunday with college. We’ve been paired off to stay with French families in and around Montpellier (mine has a 17 year old daughter and live dead in the centre of the city.) and there are set things planned for each day. It’ll be like my summer trip, but with more people I know and less chance of it being like a plane crash (and totally killing my self esteem, which I’ve only just got back.)

Good times.