The voice in my head said so.

With Sixth Form swinging in full swing, I thought it was time to fill all my avid readers (ahem) about the latest shenanigans that have bequeathed the world of Sixth Form in the past weeks, with excruciating detail that Stephanie Meyer would envy.

The post that has most recently graced your computer screen was one on the subject of Nottingham University, and how it has taken it's spot as the gold medal winner in the marathon that was getting yours truly into our University. And I would just like to clarify Nottingham's victory, one final time.

NOTTINGHAM FOR THE VICTORY.

Moving as swiftly forward as Usain Bolt succeeding in catching what he thought was his missed bus.

Now, where to begin? My A Levels have gotten into gear 5 already - except for the Menna Lewis half of my Drama course, where we haven't even started. History is as interesting as ever, with the Third Reich being the main character in my upcoming coursework, played by the main man himself, Peter Griffin. Yes, I have decided to write my coursework in the style of Peter Griffin*, with the inclusion of flashbacks that coincide with the context of the pre-written sentence.

I would like you the reader to know that 5 minutes has passed since I wrote the last word of that paragraph. The whole time spent trying to think of a Peter Griffin-ism that would undoubtedly make you chuckle, either in your head, or out loud. Sadly, no such hilarious moment has passed...like that time I was a stand-up comedian. Gah, it took me a long while to think of that, and I didn't even chuckle myself, although you shouldn't really laugh at your own jokes, even though I nearly always do. Like that time tod... - I'll stop.

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the coursework. We've been looking at different...oh god, I've forgotten what ffynhonnellau is in English (I'm actually serious, I can't remember)...sources! Got you in the end, you sneaky word that escaped me**. Yes, we've been looking at sources and evaluating them and thinking how useful they may or may not be in our essay. Which, by the way, has to be 4000 words. 4000 words! That's...mental arithmetic (or mathemateg pen for you lucky bilingualites) coming in handy here...double a 2000 word essay! Hard does not come into the same bracket on this one. Difficult*** fits the bill, I think.

Stumbling forward like a drunkard, we've finally started reading one of our two Drama's - Electra - but we didn't get very far, due to one of the character's names. The name was Clutomnestra. Take your time to figure out why that caused us to not get very far in the play itself. I'm not going to bore you with a rant about Menna Lewis (in this post...a sequel to this post will follow in the coming weeks) but, I will say that Manon Edwards is, in my book, possibly the coolest teacher ever. That's probably why I don't like Menna Lewis actually, due to Manon Edwards being so cool, but Menna Lewis has always been an annoyance in Rhydfelen.

French. My final, and most important subject, due to this being the subject I am desperately keen to study further to University level (a sentence for my personal statement, or?), and we've started by...

--Advert break--

And now, the Sudoku Forecast.

6, 3, 8, 4, 7, 1, 9, 2 and 5.

That was the Sudoku Forecast.

--Voice over man-- Yes, we stop and put our weather on in the middle of things now, because we're ITV, and we can. Welcome back to post 23, an extract from the upcoming book, Mindless Blogging, by Rhys Bowen Jones.

...finding out that we're to study a book, a play and a number of themes involving the Media World. The book is called L'Etranger (The Outsider) about a man named Mersault who kills a man accidentally, gets arrested, sentenced to death and dies. The play is called Les Mains Sales (Crime Passionnel is the English title, but the French title literally translates to Dirty Hands), which is also about a death or a murder, but is much more interesting and tense than L'Etranger, due to it actually being well written (yes, I'm talking to you, Albert Camus). On the plus side, my French Grammar is gradually improving having discovered my Bible, in the form of a French Grammar book.

Now, I think that's just about as much as you'd like to read, am I right? My insanely random insights will naturally confuse and mind-boggle you all, but I hope you've had fun reading this post, because I know I did. We'll see what the coming months of Sixth Form life behold for this blogger. We'll see.

Said the blind man.

*I'm not actually going to write it in the style of Peter Griffin by the by, any such fool doing so would immediately get a zero. Or one mark for creativity. Or the Peter Griffin-ism being underlined by the examiner and writing "wtf?" along side it. Now that, I'd love to see.
** My my, I'm going off on all different tangents in this one, aren't I? I don't know why I'm doing it, I'm literally writing what comes into my head at that moment...Fish. Ahh, stop it!
*** I have to apologise for my rather zany humour. I thought that was quite amusing myself, but the chances are no one will actually see my joke...

Things have just become so much clearer.

Remember my blog about my hopeful Universities? Well, that blog has now lost complete relevance. My top 3 at that point were Bath, Nottingham and Oxford. One of those has vanished off the list completely, and the other has dropped into fourth place behind two new candidates. But, these new candidates have also lst all relevance, because my first choice is now, in my book, my only choice.

The University of Nottingham. "Why?" I hear the question asked in your head right now, bouncing from left to right, and it shall be answered in the coming sentences.

Saturday, 12/09/09 was the day I made the 161 mile journey down to Nottingham, approximately 3 hours and 10 minutes in the car to take a look around the University on those ever inoccuous periods of time they call open days, they being the University Board folks that decide whether a University is any good or not. We arrived at the University at around 10 AM, and started off with a look around the Catered Accomodation Hall, Willoughby. Which was, in all fairness, a very, very nice place. The rooms were big enough for all my stuff, the Dining Hall was as big as Vanessa Feltz' stomach after Christmas, and there was a lovely little bar with a widescreen TV, Sky and a Nintendo Wii. What more would an 18 year old student want? A question I found out soon after. Broadgate Park.

Broadgate Park has everything Willoughby had, but on a 1000000x scale. Broadgate is like a mini-village, with about 9 different flat buildings, it's own Londis, it's own bar and it's own common room. It's a self-catered accomodation this time, however, which means I'll have to budget my money with my other flat-mates regarding Tesco visits and so forth, but that doesn't matter, it's all part of University life.

I then made the 10 minute walk up to the Trent Building, in which I would have my French and Spanish talks. The French talk really certified that I wanted to come to Nottingham to do French, the head honcho of the French department was a really funny guy, and the courses look brilliant too. The Spanish talk, however, was not so good. The Spanish head honcho was argueably the most boring man on the planet. His English wasn't very good, as he was obviously Spanish, but he could speak it quite fluently, but that wasn't the issue. Let me give you an example.

A point this guy wanted to make was "To study Hispanic Studies, then you must learn Portuguese." How long did that take, 3 seconds? Well, this guy managed to stretch it out to over 10 minutes. Do not ask me how. And that's how the rest of the talk went. Long explanation after long explanation. And, the irony is, that right at the beginning of the talk he actually said "I apologise before hand because I won't be able to go into enough detail about the courses...". Sorry, what?

After a post that's been a long time in writing, due to the fact of me being interupted every time I went back to it, it's been rather anti-climactic.

See you soon, Nottingham. Hopefully...

Apparently, 85% of scousers admitted to having shower sex. 15% said they'd never been in prison.

Apologies for the random title. I couldn't think of anything, and it makes me laugh.

And so my final year at Ysgol Gyfun Rhydfelen has begun to a, err, not that much of a start. I went in on Friday to get my timetable, and we were set to start our lessons at lesson 3 to the end of the day. I had free lessons from lesson 3 to the end of the day. So I just sat around doing my best to socialise with all the people I didn't talk to over the summer.

Today was slightly better, sort of starting my 3 courses - Drama, History and French. I say sort of. In Drama, we were given the low down of the course and what's to come. Which is basically an amalgamation of acting (oddly) and doing an exam that sounds quite difficult to say the least. 2 and a half hours of writing, where we have to write about two drama's, and write your direction for a passage of a script we've never seen before. Fun.

In History, we got absolutely ripped into. Miss Adsett wasn't so bad, she just said she was very angry when she saw the results, but that'll be sorted in January with the re-sits. Miss Bryan-Jones however. Goodness me. She played the whole "I've never had a U" card on the class, and she's had the worst results in 30 years of teaching. So, on that basis, I'm royally fucked. I didn't get a U, but I know I'm not the best in the class by a country mile, so I need to work my bloody socks off if I want to go to University. Something I want to do more than anything.

And finally in French. To start, I'd like to say that I absolutely can't stand Miss Rees. So imagine my reaction when we realise that we have Miss Rowlands (my favourite teacher) twice, Miss West (my joint-favourite teacher) twice, and Miss Rees four times. In the space of two weeks. So we get the good teachers once a week. Brilliant. Oh, and we're studying a French script and a French book in those once-a-week lessons. And studying different themes in the twice-a-week lesson. Which sounds more difficult? Books or our current theme, La Radio? Ridiculous.

Oh, in the lesson we started our theme. That's it.

In other (literal) news, Kakutagate. Not heard of it? Maybe "Chelsea have been banned from signing any players in the Transfer Window until January 2011" will ring a bell? Yes? Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but that is slightly harsh. Let's review.

According to FIFA and FC Lens, Chelsea are guilty of "inticing" a French youngster, Gael Kakuta, into breaking his contract with FC Lens to sign for Chelsea. Okay, that sounds bad. But, what strikes me, is that FIFA have banned Chelsea because of details that they're not completely certain about. Where in the flying fudges of Hell does that make sense? Oh and about this supposed contract that Kakuta had. He'd signed an agreement with Lens when he was 14, saying that as soon as he turns 17 (the legal age to be signed for a proffesional club in France) he will sign a proffesional contract. Okay, so if Chelsea sign him before he signs that contract, it is an issue. And they did sign him before that pro contract was signed. However. You have to be at least 16 to sign an agreement. So, Lens were breaking the law when they signed that deal in the first place. So, how can Chelsea break a contract that shouldn't exist in the first place? Lens didn't get done for doing that. But as soon as they find out Chelsea are involved, bang, they forget the original rule break and blame Chelsea for everything. As usual.

Sorry for the football rant for those who don't like football. But it's something that really, really pissed me off.

To conclude, I'm going to see District 9 on Wednesday, which I can't wait for.

So long, goodbye.