Well I've been back since Sunday night, but what with all the sleeping and unpacking and um...catching up with the Bear and sleeping some more, I'm only getting around to my poor neglected half of the blog now. I'm sorry little blog, don't look at me like that, here have a Jaffa Cake...better now?
So the month that was Summer School was truly one of scandal, scoring, cross dressing, cheese factories, sombrero eating, rum drinking and the odd hospital visit thrown in too for the craic. But more of that later. For the moment you'll just have to be happy with these pictures of me very nearly getting thrown into the swimming pool by a priest, a monk and the school doctor's nephew. Cheeky bastards.
The only reason I didn't end up with my new spotty gúna soaked in chlorine was because they had forgotten the key for the gate into the pool. Even then I was lucky though, since they've been known to pitch previous victims over the railings and then into the water, so all in all a broken button on my dress wasn't too bad an outcome I guess.