Friday, 8 April 2011

Week 8...Yawn...

Week 8) Yawn.
The reasons behind my mid-morning fatigue remain unclear. It’s fair to say, however, that I was utterly exhausted from the onset, and the thought of two long hours of monotonous droning on about the source of the Nile did nothing to entice me out of my coma-like state. I shall therefore name this condition WEA syndrome. A psychosomatic slumber-inducing ailment, which afflicts those devoid of a pension book on a once weekly basis, in my case on Wednesdays.
It was clearly going to be one of those days when I entered the classroom in the middle of know it all in full political debate with his long suffering neighbour.
In a futile bid to avoid the inevitable, I spun round to make good my escape to the less politically inclined ladies lavatory, but I was evidently not quite swift enough.
"And why aren't you protesting in London?" was my rather extraordinary greeting from the old bore.
As class rebel, certain disruptive activities are habitually expected of me, but I don’t consider marching in the capital as one of them.
Momentarily lost for words, it suddenly dawned on me that he was harping on about the US Presidential fiasco, and when I replied with a plain and simple "Because I couldn't care less" the old fool’s jaw hit the deck in absolute astonishment.
With that, I wandered off in the general direction of the coat rack, leaving his bemused companion to cop the flack.
It did rather beg the question that if he felt so passionately about it, why wasn't HE there, rather than sitting on his fat backside annoying the rest of us, but life really is too short to be asking know it all anything.
I can’t recall large parts of today's lecture, and my reasonably valid excuse is that when bombarded with dozens of strange place names, bizarre tribal names, approximate dates of particular conflicts simultaneously, the little power switch situated deep within my overburdened brain automatically switches to the off position. (Assuming that it was in the on position to begin with).
Nescafe at elevenses didn't really help, despite the three heaped spoonfuls of sugar I dumped into my cup, and I was highly suspicious of his motives when know it all offered me some of his firewater. I figured that alcohol would probably not be a very good idea for session two, and I became even more unsettled when, after complaining about the numbness in my legs that the plastic chairs had bestowed upon me, the dodgy old perv offered to give them a rub!
I declined his offer as politely as I could under the circumstances, and sought sanctuary back in the classroom.
Everyone had been complaining about the lecturer during the break. He has a rather disconcerting tendency to skip from 500AD to the 17th century in one breath, and then back to pre-history for no particular reason. This makes note-taking rather a hit and miss affair at best. I’ve actually now opted to wait until the very end of the course and take up his offer of a set of photocopied lecture notes, rather than make any more attempts to spell weird and wonderful place names, spoken by a twit with a bad speech impediment.
A strange and highly irritating beeping sound had been occurring every 15 minutes throughout the morning, and it was only at the very end of our session that the lecturer drew attention to the shiny new watch he was wearing. It transpired that he hadn’t had the time to read the instructions regarding switching the damned thing off before class.
I have a sneaking suspicion he deliberately set it to go off at regular intervals in order to ward off any potential snoring.
I’m now feeling quite unwell, bearing all the familiar signs of an imminent cold.
I'm not entirely certain which particular decrepit crone passed me their old person germs, but it only adds weight to my theory that the WEA is, without a doubt, bad for your health…..and therefore I shall not be returning once I’m back to good health. Life really is too short!

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