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» School Projects
GCSE German Speaking Exam
Basically I was sat in a room with my German teacher, who I shall dub Mrs. Künd, and she has to ask me a whole bunch of questions about my life, whch I have to answer all in perfect German, as the conversation is recorded and sent off to the examining board. Now, this teacher has been giving me a consistant stream of low marks over the years, has placed me into extra sessions with another asshole German teacher and has basiclly been a bitch all while I've been learning the language.
I am not prepared for this test. Though I am not too fussed about getting a high mark, I would nevertheless like to pass and get another GCSE under my belt. The test begins, and we begin to talk.
Very simple stuff to start with, but then it begins to get advanced and I begin to noticeably trip up. It is at this point Mrs. Künd starts giving me hints. Seriously, my final German speaking exam has turned into a game of charades. She is reminding me of past and future tenses, spelling words out in the air with her finger and generally giving me a lot of (I'm sure completley illegal) help.
I aced the exam, and am now able to fully appreciate Rammstein, all thanks to a nasty teacher having a Scrooge moment and helping me cheat.
(Thu 13th Aug 2009, 16:55, More)
GCSE German Speaking Exam
Basically I was sat in a room with my German teacher, who I shall dub Mrs. Künd, and she has to ask me a whole bunch of questions about my life, whch I have to answer all in perfect German, as the conversation is recorded and sent off to the examining board. Now, this teacher has been giving me a consistant stream of low marks over the years, has placed me into extra sessions with another asshole German teacher and has basiclly been a bitch all while I've been learning the language.
I am not prepared for this test. Though I am not too fussed about getting a high mark, I would nevertheless like to pass and get another GCSE under my belt. The test begins, and we begin to talk.
Very simple stuff to start with, but then it begins to get advanced and I begin to noticeably trip up. It is at this point Mrs. Künd starts giving me hints. Seriously, my final German speaking exam has turned into a game of charades. She is reminding me of past and future tenses, spelling words out in the air with her finger and generally giving me a lot of (I'm sure completley illegal) help.
I aced the exam, and am now able to fully appreciate Rammstein, all thanks to a nasty teacher having a Scrooge moment and helping me cheat.
(Thu 13th Aug 2009, 16:55, More)
» Buses
The No. 1
The Grantham to Lincoln bus that has taken me to school, college, university and now work for about ten years now. The thing is, I usually have to catch it at about seven in the morning, basically because it's incredibly unreliable, and usually goes at a snail's pace. But this means I get to see 'The Regulars', the same people who catch the bus at the same time each day. I'm serious, like freaking Groundhog Day, only more depressing. Because I am usually bored out of my tiny mind, I have felt obliged to invent nicknames and backstories for all the regular folk that catch this bus over the years. The two most interesting* people I have dubbed Madame Shuze and Mortimer. Basically Madame Shuze constantly gives me greif for smoking around the bus stop, until one day she apparently reported me to a bus driver, who did ABSOLUTLY NOTHING. Win! Anyway, the other, Mortimer, looks exactly like Boris Karloff only skinnier and with glasses, but also appears to be in complete black and white. he has never smiled, never made eye contact with anyone, and never said anything to any of the other regulars, except for me. One day I was exercising my face-of-thunder because the bus was late for the umpteenth time, and I accidentally let out a rather uncouth obscenity. He leaned over and muttered (in a voice resonant of early Hammer Horror villains): 'It's OK, I can't afford to drive either'.
*Not really.
(Tue 30th Jun 2009, 22:41, More)
The No. 1
The Grantham to Lincoln bus that has taken me to school, college, university and now work for about ten years now. The thing is, I usually have to catch it at about seven in the morning, basically because it's incredibly unreliable, and usually goes at a snail's pace. But this means I get to see 'The Regulars', the same people who catch the bus at the same time each day. I'm serious, like freaking Groundhog Day, only more depressing. Because I am usually bored out of my tiny mind, I have felt obliged to invent nicknames and backstories for all the regular folk that catch this bus over the years. The two most interesting* people I have dubbed Madame Shuze and Mortimer. Basically Madame Shuze constantly gives me greif for smoking around the bus stop, until one day she apparently reported me to a bus driver, who did ABSOLUTLY NOTHING. Win! Anyway, the other, Mortimer, looks exactly like Boris Karloff only skinnier and with glasses, but also appears to be in complete black and white. he has never smiled, never made eye contact with anyone, and never said anything to any of the other regulars, except for me. One day I was exercising my face-of-thunder because the bus was late for the umpteenth time, and I accidentally let out a rather uncouth obscenity. He leaned over and muttered (in a voice resonant of early Hammer Horror villains): 'It's OK, I can't afford to drive either'.
*Not really.
(Tue 30th Jun 2009, 22:41, More)
» DIY Techno-hacks
The day my iPod died, and was reborn.
I distinctly remember it was on the midnight the final Harry Potter book was released, and I was trotting in the direction of my local Waterstones to pick it up (yes, I am a fag). My iPod, which I had been in loving posession of for about a year at the time (2007), suddenly topples out of my hoodie pocket and falls right down onto the concrete, basically resulting in the front coming off the back, and the various innards spilling out, shattered, onto the moist ground.
One Harry Potter book and a music-less walk home later, I hastily squeeze the innards of the iPod back into the casing, however one piece won't fit. It got left on the table as I clicked the front and the back together again, held the play button and waited.
My iPod is still working fine, and is still missing a clearly non-vital piece. I am not a technical wiz by any standards, I put this repair down to dumb luck.
(Thu 27th Aug 2009, 0:14, More)
The day my iPod died, and was reborn.
I distinctly remember it was on the midnight the final Harry Potter book was released, and I was trotting in the direction of my local Waterstones to pick it up (yes, I am a fag). My iPod, which I had been in loving posession of for about a year at the time (2007), suddenly topples out of my hoodie pocket and falls right down onto the concrete, basically resulting in the front coming off the back, and the various innards spilling out, shattered, onto the moist ground.
One Harry Potter book and a music-less walk home later, I hastily squeeze the innards of the iPod back into the casing, however one piece won't fit. It got left on the table as I clicked the front and the back together again, held the play button and waited.
My iPod is still working fine, and is still missing a clearly non-vital piece. I am not a technical wiz by any standards, I put this repair down to dumb luck.
(Thu 27th Aug 2009, 0:14, More)