Planet Mad

Simpering and handshaking never got a look-in tonight as I did my duty rounds, because it's the dreaded UCAS Personal Statement time of year. The kids get a limit of 47 lines of type (or that's what they seemed to remember that they had, based on their very vague memories of a VERY IMPORTANT meeting about such things, which took place all of 24 hours ago. But hey, such is life) One girl has written too much, another too little: my job is to prune, encourage and basically bonsai their rambling into something succinct but memorable. Given my tendancy to waffle on in a circumwobbulating sort of way, this is a tad ironic. (Ms Bennett, my English teacher, would be proud to note that I have resisted the temptation to use the adjective "ironical". I tried for a long time to persuade her that it really was a word. Alas, unbeknownst to me, she and Mr Chambers were in collaboration and she used a specially-doctored dictionary to prove me wrong. Gah!) (However, she would be most displeased to note the use of 'circumwobbulating', which is a word that must be used with extreme caution: don't try this at home, children!)

Anyway, moving swifly onwards.

Except I can't: my brain appears to have exploded. All I seem to be able to write is trite phrases about my enduring passion for all of my A-level subjects and my desire to read some extremely relevant subject - such as toe-nail curling for beginners - at university. Better go and make some tea to help me recover.