The Sweetness of Truancy

Thank the Force that blogging , unlike podcasting, doesn't require me to use my voice.

Currently, my voice sounds like an oboe- weird, reedy and reminiscent of a duck honking.

All I did yesterday was schnuffle into a box of tissues, trying to keep it quiet so I wouldn't interrupt the guest lecturer with a nasal symphony during her hour-long presentation on grammar and syntax. I had uni from 9 to 5 (technically) but after I finished my class at 2 p.m, I was faced with the horrifiying prospect of three hours of Contract Law. Three SNIFFLY hours of Contract Law.

Let me set the scene here: every Tuesday, I have three hours of Contract Law in the most dingy lecture theatre in the whole campus. The theatre is as dark as a prison cell and just as inviting, and every square inch of the desks are covered in graffiti proudly proclaming "Land Rights For Gay Whales".

(Before you ask, I have no idea either.)

Yesterday was sunny. Gloriously so. It was so warm and lovely and the birds were singing and gates were open and the hills were beckoning, and oh, Reverend Mother, I just couldn't help myself...

...I didn't leap onto the Science Lawns and swing my arms around in wide circles singing about how the hills were alive, but the temptation was certainly there.

But like Maria, I ran. I did run through that gate, away from the musty confines of the science theatres and the mysteries of contract law...

...and I spent my afternoon playing soccer in the park with Kris and Chrissy. Chrissy tried to give me a few pointers on how to not-look-like-a-total-idiot when kicking the ball, but it didn't quite work- she's a brilliant goalkeep and an even more deadly striker...whilst most of my time on court involves me flinging up my arms in terror to avoid being hit. I think her most important piece of advice from the session was this:

"Daph...when the ball comes towards you, don't scream."

Duly noted :D

We capped off the afternoon by spending an hour running about on the playground- trying to run up the slides, going on the swings, discovering that the little horsey see-saws aren't really meant for people over the age of seven...it was awfully refreshing knowing that even though we were oh-so-sensible, mature young women going on 20, we still had a combined mental age of about three.

It sure beat fallling asleep in a lecture theatre listening to three hours of talk about misleading and deceptive conduct.

However, I heard the ultimate truancy excuse today, when I was talking to a friend who hadn't shown up to class in more than a week. His reason?

He'd fallen in love.

If that ain't a reason to skip class, I don't know what is.