Leaver's projects

To fully appreciate this post, you might want to take a look at this other post. Or then again, you might not.

When faced with nothing, make something. This, I'm pretty sure, is the general idea behind the Leaver's projects. The school having done so much for you, you do something for them. Generally, this is something practical: maintenance of golf tees, for instance; however, creative and organisational tasks are also open to the less technically adept. The possibilities are, proverbially speaking, endless, although there are some projects that tend to crop up periodically. There has, for example, been a tradition of making sculptures out of musical instruments for display in the Music School, and for contact purposes a Leaver's address book is essential.

Talking of which, I must email some of my friends, if only so they know I actually have an email address. Some slight problems led to it not being included in the address book, so hopefully a quick message will set the record straight. I can only hope they're not all too busy trying to find my non-existent Facebook account. That's if they've got a copy of the book with my contact details in it at all, that is. Did I say slight problems? I meant big ones, though most likely on my part. My form-filling ability must be deteriorating.

School's out!

Wooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohoooooooooooooo! The Summer Holidays are here!

So, where's the sun?

For the benefit of my international (i.e. non-English) readers, I think it's worth mentioning that the weather in the UK is a little inclement at the moment.* However, this does give me an excuse to write this post, if I actually needed one in the first place.

So, what work have I been doing in the last few weeks of term? Not much, as a matter of fact.

I know. Criminal, isn't it?

Cast your mind back, however, to this post. Loath as I am to bring the matter to your attention yet again, you may remember that I had gained a scholarship to Eton College, which in most respects made any large amount of work a little pointless. Far from being my situation alone, however, this affected six others of my general category, not to mention a further 22 to come later on. But what, with no mean amount of time at our disposal and our lessons judiciously cut back upon, were we to do?

Before I embark upon the full, excruciating detail of recent happenings, however, it is worth making some important clarifications regarding the description gobbledegook given above.

• Me and the 28 others** are all in Year 8, in other words 13 years old (again, I can't vouch for this being true in countries other than my own). This was our last year at prep school.
• All the year 8's (and indeed the rest of the school, for that matter) are boys.
• The overwhelming majority of them - or rather us - are at least a little excitable, and needless to say this trait has been exploited to its full potential.
• The official name for us, should you ever come across it, is the Leavers.

Rather than tell you everything in one long, ultra-boring blob of a post, however, I'll split it up for you. First stop, the Leaver's projects!

* It should be noted that, due to the ongoing nature of the writing of blog posts, the time referred to as 'the moment' at one point may no longer be anywhere near the time at which the post is published. As it stands, the 'moment' referred to in the part of the post so handily marked with an asterisk was some time yesterday, with today being when this footnote was written. At least for the moment, anyway.

** I know a number of people who would most likely kill me for saying this rather than: 'The 28 others and I.' But be honest, which do you think sounds better?

All is revealed...

On Tuesday 6th May, in case you were wondering, the Eton King's Scholarship exams took place.

Now, I know perfectly well what you're thinking. You're thinking: 'What on earth is he talking about? Has he finally flipped? Has his blog been taken over by the Eton College ICT Department resident hackers? Has he come up with some stunning piece of wit on the subject of the Scholarship exams? Or has he (heaven forbid) taken to advertising?

You'll probably be pleased to hear that none of these could be further from the truth (although the advertising idea certainly sounds tempting). The simple, straightforward and several orders of magnitude less exciting answer is that I took the exams. I sat down in a hall with around 100 other people and took some tests. See, I told you it wasn't a very exciting answer.

The more interesting - and indeed fortuitous - part, however, is that I passed. The results were pretty good - in at least one case (I'm not telling you which) surprisingly so - and I somehow managed to grab 4th Scholarship.

So what about the title? 'All is revealed..'? What, you are thinking, does that mean? Nothing's been revealed. Or has it..?

Well, I suppose I'll have to tell you now. Getting an Eton Scholarship was the ultimate aim of my secret plan, despite the fact that it was neither very secret nor much of a plan. But you can't be picky with these things.

So now you know it all, and a very good thing that is too. But I think I'd better cut this post short before it gets too heavy and unwieldy, or possibly before I get unbearably smug, whichever is the sooner. Until we meet again, Adios!

Damned statistics!

The question of statistics is, without question, an oft visited topic, but what sort of bearing does that really have on a rural teenage schoolboy? A very good question, and the blunt answer is 'The wrong sort'. At the very moment I write this, I am surrounded by people who, on a daily basis, can and will spout out, argue over and compare numbers and facts containing not the slightest meaning to the uninitiated.

Let us start with probably the most recent and divisive statistical craze to hit us around here, that of the trading cards called 'Match Attacks'. The basic premise of these is based, not altogether surprisingly, around football. Each card depicts a footballer and quotes their estimated 'Attack' and 'Defence', the calculation of which is beyond me. I would put the entire number of different players available somewhere in the quadrillions, and the number grows alarmingly. As one might suspect, they can also be traded for other cards, either to get some better numbers or just to build one's collection. There is, apparently an associated game on top of all this, but I am unable to say very much about it.

But, as I mentioned earlier, the worst part is that the very mention of the words 'Match Attack' will cause an explosively wide range of reactions. Some love it and play it with wild abandon, others despise it with a passion. So much so, in fact, that there exists an 'Anti Match Attack League' that actively encourages the destruction of cards. Being a stalwart fence-sitter it doesn't really bother me either way, although if I could turn a corner just once and fail to find a single card awaiting me then it would probably please me quite a lot.

Even worse than these on the 'my pointless number is bigger than yours' front, however, are those maddening and almost unbelievably lucrative trading card and media franchises such as Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh. I quote for you here an imaginary, but not entirely implausible, conversation between two fans: "Hi! Do you play Me-No-Good?" "Why yes, as a matter of fact. Fancy a game?" "Of course! You start." "Right. I'll play Mr Bun the Baker. That's two Basic Paperclips to me." "Curse you! Now it's my turn..." [Some time later] "Ha! My Triple-Conjoined Tyrannosaur beats your Mega Sardine of Doom! 9847583758 Bing-Bong points!" "You *@%$£^~!" "Just surrender now, and avoid a slow and painful defeat!" "I'm not done yet! Take a look at my Double Pikachu with added Wham-Wham!" "Flipping ^*%@!!" "Plus that means I can play my Inverse Riffle-Shuffle, gaining me an extra 13842237834467 Bing-Bong Points and a Quadruple Cheese Grater! I win!" "Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!" "Well, there we are then. Good game, eh, old chap?" "Yes, old man. Splendid."

You see what I mean by 'pointless numbers'? Who would have thought it was possible to gain so much joy from such a premise?

My school - a day in the life

• Time: Early
• Location: My bed, My dorm, My boarding house, My school, Berkshire, England

I wake up, as always, early in the morning. My brain is, to put it lightly, not working to its full capacity. I try and gather my thoughts for several minutes, until eventually the house master opens the door and sweeps all them all away. I am expecting this, as half the doors in the house make an appalling racket and my dorm is near enough to the end for there to be a significant creaking build-up. The curtains are rattled open also, leaving the room bathed in a pleasant light. I haul myself up to sit and peer through the two windows visible from my current position, one in my dorm and one in the room opposite. Both reveal largely tree branches, but the lighting difference is evident. Behind me, the many spreading twigs are flooded from the front with the sunlight, revealing every scrap of lichen and change in colour. In front, a little way away in the opposite dorm, very similar twigs are silhouetted against the bleached white sky. Pleasingly different.

---

• Time: A little later
• Location: See above

The light is turned on, and I climb out of my top bunk blinking.Painstakingly, I tear another leaf from my 'Easy Answers Science Calendar' - or something like that - in search of this morning's enlightenment. I read the day's entry and feel a little cleverer. Then I dress and trudge downstairs for washing, teeth brushing etc. It's a little quirk, albeit quite logistically sensible, that everyone does their teeth before breakfast. With this done, I go to the main common room and attempt to divine which sofa has lost the least stuffing. I sit down and watch the news, which is showing inaudibly on the television in the opposite corner. Soon afterwards we go.

---

• Time: Quite a bit later
• Location: Lower field, just outside the house

The main portion of the school lies a short way from the house, meaning that to get there you have to cut across one corner of the playing field. There is a lot of frost this morning, which is surprising - given the fairly warm weather of late - but not entirely unexpected. It really is quite cold.

---

• Time: Breakfast
• Location: The dining hall

I have breakfast, unsurprisingly. Cereal, some food or other, and toast. Highly nutritious.

---

• Time: Lessons
• Location: Various

Lessons go along nicely, as always.

---

• Time: Break time
• Location: Somewhere

Dull.

---

• Time: More lessons
• Location: Various

As before.

---

• Time: Lunch
• Location: The dining hall

Chinese New Year recently, so Chinese food for lunch today. Chopsticks too. Quite how the Chinese can live with eating implements like that is quite beyond me. I imagine it takes them an entire day just to eat breakfast one piece at a time. I have some unidentifiable curry and some rice. The headmaster says that it is traditional to eat the animal whose year it is, so as it is the Year of the Rat I'm thankful for once that I am a vegetarian. It later turns out to be something mediocre like beef, but not before someone has thanked the kitchen staff for 'the rat'. What a laugh! We also have watermelon, easily the most disappointing fruit known to man.

---

• Time: Rest
• Location: The music school

A quick tinkle on the ivories before the sports session. Practice makes perfect!

---

• Time: Games
• Location: The sports ground

I do sports. Badly. It's a miracle they've actually managed to find people my equal. I am what the more sensitive teachers call 'in it for the enjoyment';, and they are what I call 'wildly overstating'. Putting all that to one side, I do actually enjoy it.

---

• Time: Yet more lessons
• Location: Pretty obvious

Lessons. You know what I mean.

---

• Time: Tea
• Location: Brink of insanity, somewhere in the dining room

This is about the time when I start feeling like throwing myself in the path of a large ballistic missile. I have to supervise one of the tea tables, even though there are probably a number of human rights regulations explicitly banning it. Trying to serve 10-12 unruly school pupils an entire meal, and get them to clean up afterwards, is no easy ride. Take it from me.

---

• Time: Bed
• Location: The house, again

Thank goodness for sleep! One moment you're yawning beneath the sheets, the next an entire new day of pure horror has arrived. Goodnight.

Les vacances, ils sont presque arrives!

You thought I wasn't going to get my blog done on time, didn't you? (Blog, what a weird word!) Well, you thought wrong! As to the title of this entry, I can only hope you know French. Only joking, it says "The holidays, they're almost here!"* And how true it is. After a frenetic, exciting and, at times, sweaty term, there's only a week to go! Then, it's the summer holidays!!! On to other topics now. Boarding is fine (though not as good as home!) and I think *insert doubtful expression here* that the others have got used to me. I am currently writing a book (yes, you did read that right), though I intend to share it with the world for free. I'm going to post the first part of it here next week, and from then on it can be a serial (that way I have time to write some more of it!). Bear in mind, however, that it'll only happen if the small soggy lump of sawdust that passes as my memory doesn't fail me. Still, I have hope! I'm afraid my 'I want to do this' tank is running a bit dry, so this entry will have to stop here. Third, Choules the Third * Why use French? Because I'm too clever for my own good.** ** And modest, too.

Just in time...

...to get my blog done! This time, my sudden weekday appearance is no fluke. This is, believe it or not, a delight of independent schooling (or at least, my independent school) known as an exeat. This is, if you like, an 'extended weekend', although in which direction (before or after) the extension takes place is by no means predictable. I have *consults computer clock* 13 minutes remaining before I go back tonight, but I just have time to write this (I hope!). Hopefully I will get it done sooner next week, as I'm afraid I haven't got time to say much more. In much the same way as before, my school beckons. Farewell! Choules 3

Goings on

I am currently taking advantage of a Wednesday evening at home to write this, that's why I love the summer term. This is just a quick update. For reasons unknown, my school managed to lose the entire of last week into the administrative ether. Don't ask me where it went, it just went. I slept so badly the night before that I may well have really missed out a week. Just one more thing before I go. I looked at the monster for next week's Doctor Who in the Radio Times. I do not suggest you do likewise. Yours very worriedly, Choules 3

The week past

My faithful computer tells me it is 19:10, so I may have left this a little late. Still, better late than never. Turns out I will be doing the aforementioned French trip after all. The French teacher seems adamant that we all come, and it should be good fun. Then again, why don't we go somewhere different? Oh, well, France is nice. I've been quite busy recently, they certainly plunge you into it here. We've got a large blank display board to fill with rather few pieces of paper. I think we've got it sorted, though. Adios, amigas! Choules 3

So, then...

...my first few days back at school! This does, unfortunately, mean that I am only going to be able to post at the weekends. Mind you, that's probably a significant improvement. As I lay in bed the night before I went back, it took only a small calculation to work out that I spend 11 hours a day - 11! - at school. After another small calculation, I worked out that if I had gone to school since birth I would have spent around five and a half years there! And most of the rest would have been sleeping. However, I am of course missing out a myriad of other factors. I have half an hour of break-time, about the same amount of quiet reading time in the afternoon, a games session, plenty of time for activities and mealtimes. Plus ample holiday time. It's not all bad. Still...11 hours!