I'm getting an insight into what life would be like if I were to fail miserably. That's what holidays feel like. You know that period of the day in-between revising and sleeping where you sit in front of the t.v. with a bland expression, and you watch some random crap and finish off the rest of the shreddies, without the milk because you forgot to get it from the fridge when you went next door. That, I reckon is how unemployment feels. Without the 3 hours in the morning of drawing Tartuffe in a 19th century french outfit and doing hazard perception until you can practical regurgitate the answers. Alcohol gives an increased, false sense of confidence.

Anyway. On the plus side, tomorrow night I have Miss Evans coming round for dinner. That means I can give her the gin I bought her (or Dad bought her... "I'll pay you back Daddy love you lots and lot forever and thing...") and we can talk about how ugly the school toilets are and how stressful art is. It's going to be a larf.

My Dad went back to work today. He came to wake me at about 11, so I got grumpy at him for waking me early, and he was all like... 'see you sunday' and I was all like... 'yeah whatever' and then he left and I registered what he said and I felt quite bad. Sorry Pa. So he left, Dad and I have a tradition when Mum goes away where we have bangers and mash for supper with real pork sausages without apple or lemon in or whatever crap Mum puts in them. Anyway tonight, Dad went away and Mum made bangers and mash. Except the mash had celeriac in and the sausages were herby fried with onions and beetroot. It made me chuckle.

ANYHOO.