Leavers' Ball

‘There’s nothing more repulsive than a drunk woman’ my father used to say, and after the leavers’ ball I have to agree. I probably wouldn’t be so condemning if the woman in question wasn’t the girlfriend of the Ginger One, who is the cutest bloke on the course and therefore should be with a perfect woman so that it’s okay for him not to be hitting on me. Poor thing, he spent most of the night outside with a limp body falling through his hands, he probably also had to listen to her slurry monologues and hold her hair back when her stomach finally gave up trying to digest all she’d poured into it.
Another highlight of the evening was seeing the Cow dressed in a washed out beach dress and pouring out of it wherever possible. Which didn’t make her less condescending as she told me that I looked very nice in a tone of voice implying an utter surprise.
Nevertheless, I had lots of fun. We danced our feet off (or, in my case, literally my shoes off) and cigarette breaks with Jose contributed highly to my Spanish vocabulary – I am now capable of making very explicit sexual advances indeed. We annoyed the lady in charge of catering by requesting first bread then butter, both of which were inaccessible. And the tuna really needed butter – I have never had fish so dry in my entire life! What is it with overcooking things in this country?