Date: Sat, 24 Sep 2016 15:26:45 +0200
From: alongweekend@gmail.com
Subject: Reed 'em and weep - Ch. 1: 3 March 2008

3 March 2008

Today in history: Gandhi started a hunger strike in Bombay in 1939. And
Time Magazine published its first ever issue in 1923.

Nothing quite as exciting or memorable as that going on here, I'm
afraid. My news of the day is that after only two full weeks of actually
being at varsity I am dangerously fucking close to failing Maths 1. Okay,
so it's probably like waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too early to say for sure, just 10
lessons in, but I am so fucking lost already. Grumpy old Mr Botham back at
school was right - I'll need to work much harder to keep abreast of things
here at university.

In other news, none. It's another week; I'm still feeling my way through
this whole thing. More and more, though, I wonder if I shouldn't have opted
to go away to college, like they always do on tv. It would be a worse
education, technically, since UCT is the only African university ranked in
the Top 200 institutions in the world, but the guys who are here at UCT
from up-country or abroad just seem to be having more fun than I am. I
mean, if I'm going to bomb out in class I might as well at least be
enjoying my time here!

Trevor is also really starting to work on my nerves. He's as thick as a
plank but doesn't seem to know this; how in the name of Chr!st he got into
university is beyond me. His mom must be sleeping with someone powerful;
it's either that or some or other witchcraft. We have another sodding
Physics practical this afternoon as well, and if the last two are anything
to go on it will be another late day with me doing all the work while he
bumbles along cocking everything up behind me. He already spent the first
quarter of an hour of my day up here talking about some pointless crap
while I was trying to mingle with my classmates and attempt to actually
meet some new people. New people seem to know to shun Trevor instinctively,
something I can't do since we're paired up for some pracs - thanks, dad,
for having a shit surname.

Okay, be fair - I'm cranky because I'm not getting any sex yet (as usual)
and I still haven't found out the name of the Mystery Man in the front row,
the cute one I mentioned last week with the serious haircut and the
steel-framed glasses. In my mind he's built like a tank, and I say
something witty to him and he laughs and then for no reason I fuck the
bejesus out of him with little ceremony and/or foreplay. I suspect The
Clergy would not really appreciate my use of the J-word (even when hidden
in another word) when talking about gay stuff, and less so when I should be
focusing on my maths, but G0d, he's hot. Oops - did it again.

More as it happens. I like this free period in the middle of the day so I
can write this stuff down, even though I should probably use it to try to
fix my maths.

-C