Sunday 3rd June, 2012
The mother of all hangovers. I am an idiot. I have no idea why I do it to myself, but suffice to say, marking essays with a stinking hangover is as little fun as it could possibly be.
In fact not much happened other than that, so this won’t be the most detailed of posts. Once I’d got stuck into the paracetamol, I realised that I really needed to get this marking done, and with no concert I knew that this was the day to knuckle down and graft. So I did.
All the marking is now done. In fact, all the marking was done with time left over to eat and start drinking heavily, but amongst most of us there was an air of “why did we drink so much last night” so a quiet night ensued. All around us, idiotic students were being idiotic and having a lovely time, where ‘lovely time’ mostly consists of either people stealing other peoples’ clothes, or people taking people’s clothes off them whilst they’re wearing them. So it’s all pretty much clothes based high jinx of an evening. Still, morale was high and at least they’re the sort of bunch who can amuse themselves and not constantly come to us saying they’re bored. They’re anything but bored and indeed they’re so no bored that as I write this none of them are anywhere to be seen or heard. It’s probably for the best. I have more work to do now that the marking is done. Oh, and the other marking needs to be done but I’m not in charge of that.
So there we go. A day spent within an area of no more than twenty square metres, when almost nothing happened and certainly nothing exciting. Like I say, this is not a holiday.
Drinking done: A reasonable amount of red wine and a few beers, but my brain wanted more than my stomach was prepared to accept.
Marking done: Fourteen essays. Boom shack-a-lack!
Morale: Want to go home.