people of blogland

Good even oh great bloggers, people of the lost art of blogging. Sorry about that. Anyway, i am a Coral sitting in her dad's flat with her eight little gerbils scurrying around in their various cages, the females chewing up their cage, the males blissfully humping one another, practising in hope of a girl to join their ranks. Sorry, mate. I'm not looking after any more of your gerbil offspring thank you very much. Besides, i'm sure they get just as much pleasure out of humping their brothers, don't you?
I suppose you're wondering why i have eight gerbils. No? Well, i am going to tell you anyway! I got two from this run down pet shop in Hackney, and the woman said it was a boy and a girl. I said, ever so pleasantly, "Oh, well. We shall have to swing by another pet shop, shan't we?" In fear of losing a sale, the woman lied and said she had made a mistake. That they were two boys. Me, in the blissful mind-set of a twelve year old girl, fell for her cruel lies and ended up with six tiny little mole-gerbils, as Nathan so playfully called them, (they were bald and couldn't open their eyes).
In further news, i have been informed of a rather sick-making turn of events. I have a science exam on monday. Which i do not have any idea of how to revise for. As an unfortunate result, i have ended up writing this rather informative blog, when really i should be readying myself for the rude awakening i am sure to get on monday.
Oh well, as i always say, you can't have everything.
Although i only just said that - probably for the first and last time - i do believe it. And so, i have settled for the midless ramble that i am currently writing. It could be a novella, now i come to think of it. A short story about me. But it isn't, so i mustn't linger on that thought any longer. I have had a rather pointless week; hot and tired, Highgate Wood School of North London decided not to bother with the education of young minds, and instead concentrated their attention on fanning themselves in their offices, (or rather, being fanned by regretful students, who blissfully unaware of the job at hand had volunteered to be office helpers).
The weather this week has really been unacountable. Just imagine it, North London, hotter than anywhere in Europe, including Greece. It's more depressing than it should be. Especially to me. This is because of my body's obscure desire to get burnt when the sun carelessly gives out even a few rays of ultra violet energy. I am therefore forced to slather myself in sun cream every morning, and top it up practically every five minutes. But i did assume, as i am sure you would too, that at five o'clock in the afternoon the rays would be too feeble to penetrate even my thin skin. But of course not. I returned home as flaming pink as though i really was a piece of coral.
Besides, hot weather now usually means wind, rain and thunderstorms in August.
Joy.
I am sure you would like to go now and enjoy reading someone else's ramblings, so i will bid you adieu.
Cheerio x

Coral Berry