Dear Diary...

I don’t keep a diary, but if I did the past week would read something like this:

Friday:

Got an essay back today with the bizarre comment of, 'this is somewhere between average and good'. Hmm, I didn't know my beak was so inarticulate. I'll take it as a 'quite good'!

For some reason Friday Chambers always throws up the worst food of the week. Today we got given yoghurts. Yoghurts! Fridays is supposed to be the end of the week, a time for celebration - going to the next div to hear that your mate from the house opposite got a bacon butty is gutting, especially when the only flavours left by the time you arrived were peach or banana. Whoever is responsible for this debacle needs to sort it out!

Saturdays: 

Although I dislike having to work on Saturdays I’m not sure there’s a better feeling than walking out of last div knowing you have 40 hours or so of freedom. I wasn’t playing a match this afternoon so went down to the Field to watch the Fifteen take on Wellington. I'm afraid to say we got tonked - I didn't stay around to watch the whole match but from what I did see it was very one-sided. 

It's disappointing, but then again what can you expect from a school that laces its flu jabs with steroids and tell its players muscles will get them far in life?

Sunday:

There are lazy Sundays, and then there are lazy Sundays. With chapel over I glued myself to my room and rejected all suggestions of activity. Kickabout? Nah not now. Watch the footy? England’ll win anyway. Get some Percy Pigs in Windsor? Can’t be bothered mate. A walk?  Ha, you serious?!

This all sounds rather cool but I actually did nothing productive all day, and am now loathing myself.

Monday:

Sundays evenings are the time for dreading the week ahead, but once Monday comes around and you realise the world isn’t going to end anytime soon life isn't too bad. It helps when, like me today, you get told in the div that your latest work was 'outstanding'. 

Praise like this is more than just an ego boost – it makes everyday irritations fade away. Discovering someone’s borrowed your charger or has been using your shampoo just doesn’t matter anymore. Not even Runty bragging at lunch about some girl he pulled and asking questions about your own love life can erase those eleven letters from your mind: o u t s t a n d i n g. Yep, that’s me. Deal with it. Outstanding.

Tuesday:

Ok, I’m getting a bit annoyed now– someone’s definitely been pinching my shampoo. I normally leave it in the shower, and although people might use it now and then I noticed yesterday that the level was significantly lower than before. I suspect it’s an F blocker, because they don’t tend to grasp the concept of money and exchange systems and think everything is still purchased by Mummy’s bank card, not realising that I actually used my own cash to buy this stuff.

I mean, how cheap can you get? If an average squirt of shampoo is 10ml and my bottle contains 400ml at £1.99, then the thief is saving himself 5p per shower. Come to my room whoever you are and I’ll give you 5p if it keeps your dirty mitts off my Herbal Essences!

Of course, I could just stop leaving my shampoo in the shower. But there’s a principle at stake here – I feel it's my duty to catch the person doing this and order him to stop.

Wednesday:

Things have gotten worse - if I thought the robber might be considerate in his pilfering of my Herbal then I was mistaken – looking at the bottle, he not only thought he’d do his hair this morning but have a good body scrub at the same time, maybe even wash his pubes (if he has any). Why not of course, when it’s not even his shampoo?!

You might think I’m overreacting to the minor theft of a non-luxury liquid soap but I feel a part of me ravaged when I see my Herbal Essences emptier. This is a product that wakes me up every morning, makes me smell fresh and never criticises what I say.

This isn’t going to end here! I swear I will not stop till I find the person doing this and when I do I will inflict some serious damage on him and his property! Be warned.

Thursday:

Just found a bottle of shampoo in my cupboard. The one in the shower must be someone else’s.