Hello All,
Apologies to Seb firstly, for me not posting as frequently as I would like. My GCSE's start next week, so it's been somewhat of a cram-fest trying to imprint french verbs into my brain so I won't actually fail my French Oral *erk*. But anyhoo, back to the title. 2 weeks ago now, (god was it that long ago...) I went to France with two of my Year 11 friends, Sophie and Tanya, and a bunch of lower and upper sixth formers, on an 'educational' trip entitled 'In The Footsteps Of Wilfred Owen'. I'd expect most of you to know who Wilfred Owen is, but for the illerate among you I shall breifly divulge.
Basically, he's one of the famous war poets of the 1915-1918 period, i.e the main bulk of the 1st World War, including the barbaric Battle Of The Somme (which he himself fought in). It was surprisingly interesting actually, although I do admit to falling asleep on the coach a couple of times when I was meant to be learning about the battle formations of 1917 or something...but yeah. During the day we'd go over the poems and visit various burial grounds (bit depressing), including Owen's on the last day, where we placed a wreath. The evenings however, were a different kettle of chips altogether...(she says, as the embarassing photos come out...)
Our first hotel was a bit of a disappointment, as it was in the middle of nowhere. The food was abysmal, but sadly there was no Supermarche to satisfy our give-me-junk-food-and-booze-fast lust. However some of the A level students had the sense to bring some alcohol with them so we had ourselves a little cocktail party right there on the hotel patio. As the teachers were sharing a floor with us, we decided the best way not to arouse suspicion would be if we all climbed out the window of one of the sixth-formers that had a room on the ground floor. That got pretty interesting I can tell you. Can't really remember much about the first night except for drinking some FOUL peppermint liqueur, before collapsing onto my bed and consequently breaking it (i'm obese). Here are some of the deeply embarassing photos from that night:
This is what happens when you eat too many pies, my friends.
No idea why I was posing like this - I can only envisage it was my friends provoking me into posing like superman in my vulnerable, drunk state.
And this is why you should never let your friends drink alcohol. They turn into EVIL ZOMBIES.
Dancing in the bathroom for some reason, don't really know why I felt the need to wear sunglasses at night, but hey.
DAYAAAM we could give Billy Elliot a run for his money! (Me and Tanya in Saint Quentin Square).
Me and Tanya in a rape field (rape, hahaha yeah, grow up) somewhere in the country. About 5 minutes after this I lost my camera in this field and we spent about half an hour looking for it. We also emerged strangely covered in yellow powder.
Apologies to Seb firstly, for me not posting as frequently as I would like. My GCSE's start next week, so it's been somewhat of a cram-fest trying to imprint french verbs into my brain so I won't actually fail my French Oral *erk*. But anyhoo, back to the title. 2 weeks ago now, (god was it that long ago...) I went to France with two of my Year 11 friends, Sophie and Tanya, and a bunch of lower and upper sixth formers, on an 'educational' trip entitled 'In The Footsteps Of Wilfred Owen'. I'd expect most of you to know who Wilfred Owen is, but for the illerate among you I shall breifly divulge.
Basically, he's one of the famous war poets of the 1915-1918 period, i.e the main bulk of the 1st World War, including the barbaric Battle Of The Somme (which he himself fought in). It was surprisingly interesting actually, although I do admit to falling asleep on the coach a couple of times when I was meant to be learning about the battle formations of 1917 or something...but yeah. During the day we'd go over the poems and visit various burial grounds (bit depressing), including Owen's on the last day, where we placed a wreath. The evenings however, were a different kettle of chips altogether...(she says, as the embarassing photos come out...)
Our first hotel was a bit of a disappointment, as it was in the middle of nowhere. The food was abysmal, but sadly there was no Supermarche to satisfy our give-me-junk-food-and-booze-fast lust. However some of the A level students had the sense to bring some alcohol with them so we had ourselves a little cocktail party right there on the hotel patio. As the teachers were sharing a floor with us, we decided the best way not to arouse suspicion would be if we all climbed out the window of one of the sixth-formers that had a room on the ground floor. That got pretty interesting I can tell you. Can't really remember much about the first night except for drinking some FOUL peppermint liqueur, before collapsing onto my bed and consequently breaking it (i'm obese). Here are some of the deeply embarassing photos from that night:
This is what happens when you eat too many pies, my friends.
No idea why I was posing like this - I can only envisage it was my friends provoking me into posing like superman in my vulnerable, drunk state.
And this is why you should never let your friends drink alcohol. They turn into EVIL ZOMBIES.
Dancing in the bathroom for some reason, don't really know why I felt the need to wear sunglasses at night, but hey.
This is some of the stuff we did during the day:
Me and Tanya in a rape field (rape, hahaha yeah, grow up) somewhere in the country. About 5 minutes after this I lost my camera in this field and we spent about half an hour looking for it. We also emerged strangely covered in yellow powder.
Me, Sophie (left) and Tanya (right), trying on some berets in Printemps, Saint Quentin. I'd later buy this pink beret for my brother, Jono. [xD]
The last night, I thought I might as well go all the way and get completely wrecked. Baaad idea. I found out later i'd wandered into random sixth formers' rooms while my friends sent other sixth formers on a search party round the hotel looking for me. I remember the lift opening and being physically pulled inside, bemused. In my pajamas of course. Ahh, so dignified.
Well now i've bored you all to death with my drunk (mostly) photos, I shall wrap it up here and just say it was a fantastic trip, the weather was gorgeous, the guides were great, and god bless France for having the legal drinking age of 16.
~ Stargirl.
3 comments:
YAY FOR PINK BERET
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