It's the end of the week as we know it, and i feel fine...
Hell, so it's only two days off. Better than nowt. I've just come back from Cadets, having discussed how exactly I am to be injured. This is what happens when you sign up for First Aid section, I think to myself. Would be doing a stretcher run but the stretcher's already taken, and I draw the line at being carried around like a sack of potatoes by brain-dead cadets, so it looks like this is going to be a static excercise. TK has acquired some disturbingly realistic fake blood and a fake wound kit, normally used for training paramedics. Given that he intends to become a doctor, I find his glee at the whole idea slightly disturbing; that and the high-pitched giggling. And he also ate some of the fake blood gel. Hmm...
The modle aircraft section, meanwhile, has suddenly lost its aircraft; their owner, after half a year or so at uni, apparently returned for them this week. No they have four sets of wings, a comprehensively smashed glider - I and three others attempted to fly it in gale force winds, firing it on its brief voyage skywards with a hundred-metre bungee rope - which we've tried and failed to resurrect, and most of a petrol engined plane with a broken prop. That too was our fault; it being too windy, we removed its wings and sent it wirring around the tarmac. This was great until the wind blew, and the prop, whirring busily, encountered said tarmac and shattered. MC is of the opinion that his expertise is not up to the challenge of fixing the engine; he seems to believe that he will cause it to explode, and to be honest I wouldn't be all that surprised.
I have, it would appear, got a half-hour History talk to sort out for Monday. Oops. I've known about this for three months, but t seemed sensible to leave even deciding what to do it about until now, of course. I'm sure I had a good reason. "Idiot" was the somewhat uncharitable non-constructive feedback that I've recieved about this so far. And this from a year Nine who has declared himself Furby high priest and ruler of the universe.
The modle aircraft section, meanwhile, has suddenly lost its aircraft; their owner, after half a year or so at uni, apparently returned for them this week. No they have four sets of wings, a comprehensively smashed glider - I and three others attempted to fly it in gale force winds, firing it on its brief voyage skywards with a hundred-metre bungee rope - which we've tried and failed to resurrect, and most of a petrol engined plane with a broken prop. That too was our fault; it being too windy, we removed its wings and sent it wirring around the tarmac. This was great until the wind blew, and the prop, whirring busily, encountered said tarmac and shattered. MC is of the opinion that his expertise is not up to the challenge of fixing the engine; he seems to believe that he will cause it to explode, and to be honest I wouldn't be all that surprised.
I have, it would appear, got a half-hour History talk to sort out for Monday. Oops. I've known about this for three months, but t seemed sensible to leave even deciding what to do it about until now, of course. I'm sure I had a good reason. "Idiot" was the somewhat uncharitable non-constructive feedback that I've recieved about this so far. And this from a year Nine who has declared himself Furby high priest and ruler of the universe.


0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home