<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://draft.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttps://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d7615377689624956874', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I got a letter in the post today, sent to me by the horrible school that I went to for the last 2 years of my secondary schooling. My parents, having finally seen the light and realised that being educated by crazed nuns who were insistant on grabbing every opportunity to tell me that I and my family were on the fast track to hell was not helping my educational career, moved me to a lovely "non-denominational" (read: protestant) school. Fee paying, posh as hell, and full to the brim with rich bitches with manicures and hair extensions. I fitted in, you would expect, exceptionally badly there, but happily managed to pick out a group of equal misfits and drag them down to my level. Those misfits,I'm happy to say, are still my best friends to this day, even if they do insist on having proper grown up careers.

Well, today that very school that put me in detention every week for swearing and forced me to attend religion classes (in which I sulked like a baby and was terribly rude to an old lady who was really only there to get out of the home once in a while) has written to me to ask me to celebrate the full 10 years I've been out of school.

10 years. I did my leaving cert in 1994. That makes me a very elderly lady indeed. And not a very happy one for being reminded of it.

We've talked over the years, me and the girls, about going back to the school for a reunion, should such a thing ever come up. We'd all decided there was no way that we would. And today, the sheer horror of the thought of ever going back confirmed the fact that they will not be getting €29 from me to attend their sherry reception and reunion luncheon. To heck with that, I say.

Because, you see, I've got nothing to show off about. I don't have a fancy job or a rich, rich husband. I have no children that I'll admit to, and I've got no ambitions that have been achieved. I currently don't have any job at all, I live at home with my parents, and my only claim to any kind of excitement in the last ten years is that once a scottish comedian threatened to kill me. It's all so dull.

0 Comments:

Post a Comment