In the run up to Easter, this was the penultimate day of the Spring term.
At sixth form our forms were split up into three groups; let’s call them houses for want of a better word. One of the activities that was being arranged to celebrate the end of term was a three way football tournament.
A mate of mine (yes,I did have the odd one) was charged with sorting the team out for our ‘house’. In my latest diary entry, I accused him of being ‘a bit slow’ in getting the team sorted for tomorrow. Bearing in mind that this was the lad who had gotten into a ‘real mood‘ with me in February, I was probably being diplomatic in not mentioning it to his face. Or cowardly, you decide.
I was pleased to report that I had experienced the last Maths and Physics lessons for a good while. I did question whether or not this was good or bad news, but I don’t really think that there could be much debate really…