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#camilla macaulay

(And now I’m sad because I’m reminiscing but hey lets go)

-Guy came in on the day of Brexit wearing a cape made out of flags of EU countries, waving the EU flag on a big stick. When our history teacher asked him to put it away he jumped up and starting singing Ode To Joy, taking out a lightbulb with his EU flag. 

-”I got a 7 in Latin GCSE”

“Well I got a 9 in Latin GCSE”

“That’s great but this word is actually in German” 

-Guy who was probably high tbh walking in slow motion to the front of the class to plug his laptop in, then slowly walked back to his seat, whispering “mission complete”

-Someone asked me if Hitler’s first name was Heil

-”Look this guy can’t be that much of a Nazi- his wife was half jewish!”

“I cAn’T bE a nAZi, I hAvE jEwISh fREiNdS”

-Playing Kahoot and naming ourselves after key historical figures like “King Lous XVI” & “Robespierre”

—–

Not to get too sad on the main, but I am really going to miss my a-level history class & teacher, it was so chaotic and a lot of my favourite memories are from that class, and it really is a shame that we didn’t get to finish it in the way we wanted to. Stay home and stay safe kids x

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Donna Tartt “The Goldfinch”
Kids shouting and skidding in the playground with no idea what future Hells awaited them: boring jobs and ruinous mortgages and bad marriages and hair loss and hip replacements and lonely cups of coffee in an empty house and a colostomy bag at the hospital. Most people seemed satisfied with the thin decorative glaze and the artful stage lighting that, sometimes, made the bedrock atrocity of the human predicament look somewhat more mysterious or less abhorrent. People gambled and golfed and planted gardens and traded stocks and had sex and bought new cars and practiced yoga and worked and prayed and redecorated their homes and got worked up over the news and fussed over their children and gossiped about their neighbors and pored over restaurant reviews and founded charitable organizations and supported political candidates and attended the U.S. Open and dined and travelled and distracted themselves with all kinds of gadgets and devices, flooding themselves incessantly with information and texts and communication and entertainment from every direction to try to make themselves forget it: where we were, what we were. But in a strong light there was no good spin you could put on it. It was rotten top to bottom. Putting your time in at the office; dutifully spawning your two point five; smiling politely at your retirement party; then chewing on your bed sheet and choking on your canned peaches at the nursing home. It was better never to have been born—never to have wanted anything, never to have hoped for anything.
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