For numerous reasons, I have decided to jump ship to Blogspot. My newer, groovier and much more niftily named blog can be found here. For the sake of nostalgia I will keep the old blog, but I've moved all the previous posts to my new place. See you there!

    “Not another one!” Cried the headmaster in dismay, once again in confrontation with the inspector. “How long will two murders take to investigate?”
    “As long as necessary, sir.” The policeman replied, employing the age-old tactic of question evasion. “With a serial killer involved, it could take months.”
    “It was a member of staff as well.” The head sighed. “I mean, pupils we can overlook…”
    “No-one must be overlooked, sir!” insisted the policeman, skipping from ‘tepid’ up to ‘bubbling’. “Your pupils are no less important, if not more important, than your members of staff!”
    “Now, now, no need to get tetchy.” Said the headmaster, offended. “The pupils are obviously of more concern to you than to us, I see that. But if the government can’t keep these homicidal chaps under control, then it’s hardly our fault is it?”
    It was the policeman’s turn to be cutting reply-less. Casting desperately around the study, in which they were currently residing, he caught sight of a new officer clumsily fingerprinting the head’s terrier. Hastily he made off.
    “When I said ‘fingerprint everything’, Spanton, I didn’t actually mean… Ouch! Blasted dog.” The head allowed himself a secret smile. He had always thought ‘Nipper’ was a very appropriate name.

    Meanwhile, in the cricket pavilion, Mr. Mallock was trying to do both of these things at the same time. With the teachers being ousted from everywhere else, he was lucky to have got there before the others. He’d always said his class needed to get more exercise.
    Sir, can I? Whack! Ouch! Sir? Sir? Whack! Ouch! Whack! Whack! Ouch! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
    Mallock surveyed the scene with satisfaction. Several boys were nursing their bruises, several more were unconscious, and the survivors were tactfully cowering in the corner. He had always prided himself on his solid palm, and it had undoubtedly done its job. There was another whack, but this time it wasn’t him.
    It was a cricket bat, and this time he was the one being whacked.

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    “I still don’t see what all the bother is about,” sighed the headmaster, thrusting the crime report back into the inspector’s hands, “it’s not as if anyone is going to miss the little nuisance.”
    “The police must treat all suspicious incidents with extreme caution, sir.” The policeman replied, thinking it an appropriate phrase for the current situation. “Besides, we don’t get many cases of schoolboys lying in pools of blood. Especially their own blood.”
    “He was asking for it,” the head snorted, “it’ll be the last time he ever tries to dodge lessons.”
    “There are no excuses for murder, sir.” Retorted the policeman, his mental saucepan of water rising from ‘tepid’ to ‘simmering’. “If we don’t catch the culprit soon, you could be the next victim.” He had worked with the headmaster’s kind too many times before. They didn’t do things for the good of the public; they did things for the good of themselves. As he had expected, the head suddenly looked flustered and adjusted his collar nervously. He continued. “So long as no-one interferes we can do this quickly and easily, and we’ll try not to disturb you too much.”
    Unable to come up with a suitably cutting reply, the head strode off feeling irritable. Coming to the games board, he surveyed the position of the enemy – as he liked to call the boys. It was afternoon by now, and a Monday afternoon at that. 1 Monday afternoons were the work of Lucifer, he was sure of it. There were a predictably vast number of names under ‘Venezuela’ 2, and he decided against cross-referencing with the dog-eared signing-in book. Boys neglected to sign in and out at their own peril.
    ‘Why Venezuela?’ he thought to himself. Did it look like Venezuela? Was it related to Venezuela in any way? Were the people there complete strangers whose language and ways you couldn’t even comprehend? He decided not to answer the last one. Instead, he strode some more. Irritably. Suddenly a boy came up to him, looking worried.
    “Sir, sir, the policemen have taken over our classroom and we can’t get in and we don’t know what to do and what are we going to…”
    The headmaster caught the boy a slap around the face without even breaking his stride. As the boy staggered away, he tried to remember who it was. He had never held with knowing boys’ names. After all, you only needed to teach them…and hit them occasionally.

    1 After considerable pressure from several groups including the ISI (Independent Schools Inspectorate, if you must know), Ofsted and - for some bizarre reason – Oxfam, the school had been forced to make Monday a half day. The main reason, however, was that if they didn’t the NSPCC might get involved. Personally, the headmaster thought the RSPCA would have been more of a problem.
    2 A large wooded area used as a sustainable alternative to the boys venting their ‘excess energy’ on the school buildings and/or staff. Strangely, it was one of the few things the ISI had never investigated in particular detail.

    With the wary looks of a professional, Aaron slipped cautiously down the main corridor. Ducking into every doorway, he made his way with meticulous care. There was, he knew, no need for such precautions yet; but They struck without predictability. At the last room he pressed his body to the wall, and with perfect timing. For at the other end of the corridor, shoes started moving with familiar, rhythmic slaps in his direction. They were here. His breathing became unstable, despite his efforts to restrict it. The footsteps rang in his ears louder and louder, his breath came out faster and faster and faster and…
    The footsteps stopped. His hand instinctively slid down to his trousers, protecting the eternally bruised band of muscle. Indistinct mumblings echoed into the room and thundered around his mind. He mustn’t lose his nerve now, but how tempting it was to rush out and beg Them for mercy. Yet, slowly and uncertainly, the footsteps started again. Waiting until the echoes finally died away, he let out his contained breath in a prolonged sigh.
    Sometimes, he thought, skiving lessons was barely worth the trouble. It was the last thing he ever thought.

Gripping, eh? Tune in next week for the second gripping installment!

You thought I wasn't going to get my blog done on time, didn't you? (Blog, what a weird word!) Well, you thought wrong!
As to the title of this entry, I can only hope you know French. Only joking, it says "The holidays, they're almost here!" And how true it is. After a frenetic, exciting and, at times, sweaty term, there's only a week to go! Then, it's the summer holidays!!!
On to other topics now. Boarding is fine (though not as good as home!) and I think *insert doubtful expression here* that the others have got used to me. I am currently writing a book (yes, you did read that right), though I intend to share it with the world for free. I'm going to post the first part of it here next week, and from then on it can be a serial (that way I have time to write some more of it!). Bear in mind, however, that it'll only happen if the small soggy lump of sawdust that passes as my memory doesn't fail me. Still, I have hope!
I'm afraid my 'I want to do this' tank is running a bit dry, so this entry will have to stop here.
Third, Choules the Third

...to get my blog done! This time, my sudden weekday appearance is no fluke. This is, believe it or not, a delight of independent schooling (or at least, my independent school) known as an exeat. This is, if you like, an 'extended weekend', although in which direction (before or after) the extension takes place is by no means predictable. I have *consults computer clock* 13 minutes remaining before I go back tonight, but I just have time to write this (I hope!). Hopefully I will get it done sooner next week, as I'm afraid I haven't got time to say much more.
In much the same way as before, my school beckons. Farewell!
Choules 3

But it's only by fluke!
You see, I decided (well, I didn't have much choice) that what I wanted to do for my weekend at home was to catch cold. Some passing germs, always ready to lend a hand, obliged. I'm going back to school this morning, and I've decided not to keep you lot in suspense.
A much nicer surprise came yesterday in the form of a new keyboard. Rather unhelpfully, it didn't come with any software that could pick up the MIDI signals it sent down its USB cable. I have managed to find a program called SimpleSynth, and simple is the word. Still, it's better than nothing.
I must go, my school beckons.
Choules III

So you thought you could get rid of me, eh?
This is like that part in the horror movie where everyone thinks the monster is dead, but then it just 'appears' again. I can only hope that you take a slightly more optimistic view on me.
Anyway, what was I going to say? Oh yes, exams (shock horror!). Lots of exams (double shock horror!), and some of them one and a half hours long (double shock gulp horror!). And that means revision (double shock double gulp horror!), which is what I've been doing all this time. And when I get back to school (tonight!) I'm going to start boarding (double shock double gulp horror horror scream!). All of this explains my variable mood, jumping between:

• A smidgen worried.
• Mildly sad, rather sad and everything in between.
• Utterly terrified.

I'm sure it'll be alright, though.
But before you go off and feel depressed, some news. We went to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3 yesterday (very good, watch it!), and are going to the Reading Museum today. We were planning on visiting a stately home, but Berkshire is a little on the rainy side today *laughs sarcastically*. On the computing side of things, I have downloaded Jave. A clever little program, it allows you to create ASCII art just like that...
...'Just like what?', I hear you cry. 'Like that!' I reply. I'm smarter than my soft toy looks.
Here is an example:
        ,-------.
     ,-'         `-.
   ,'   _       _   `.
  /    /.\     /.\    \
 /     \_/     \_/     \
;                       :
|           ^           |
:          / \          ;
 \        /___\        /
  \  \             /  /
   `. \___________/ ,'
     '-.         ,-'
        `-------'
Cool, isn't it?
All for now, bye!

As you heard, I have taken the pledge against Doctor Who. If you too wish to join Overanxious Anonymous, please drop a comment! In the meantime, I hand you over to Prof. Lazarus and his dedicated psychiatrist:
Shrink: So, Mr. Lazarus, do enjoy your life as a horribly deformed lobster-thing?
Lazarus: Frankly, no. People scream, run away and even try to kill me, would you believe it? And there's more...
Shrink: No?
Lazarus: Oh yes. Despite the fact that I can destroy iron bulkheads and crush coconuts without batting a limb, I'm still ineligible for the Mr. Universe competition!
Shrink: So life's not great?
Lazarus: You're quick. Say, you look tasty. Slurp, slurp.
Shrink: I'll refer you to a plastic surgeon, is that good?
Lazarus: Great! He'll do for afters!

But don't go yet! There's more! I learned from my sister that there is a poem to do with children leaving assembly. Great! Those with the insanity to read/listen to it are treated to the varied manners in which they leave. For instance, Mrs. Water's class trickled out. Bored yet? Do not fear! For here (to quote an American phrase) is my two cents:
Mr. Procrastinator's class left it until tomorrow.
Mrs. Indecision's class weren't too sure, or maybe they were...
Miss. Atheist's class didn't believe it was time to go yet...
...and Ms. Skeptic's class weren't convinced either.
Mr. Communist's class thought they all ought to have left at the same time.
Mrs. Pessimist's class didn't see the point.
And Miss. Apathetic's class just couldn't be bothered.

Some quick news. I'm listening to Classic FM (not the Yugoslavian version that I had previously) and I'm going to see a recording of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue this evening.

I need a lie down now!

I will not be watching Doctor Who tomorrow. When they start coming up with stuff usually found in dodgy fish restaurants, my precious hours of sleep drop fast. No thank you!
Byee!

I am currently taking advantage of a Wednesday evening at home to write this, that's why I love the summer term. This is just a quick update.
For reasons unknown, my school managed to lose the entire of last week into the administrative ether. Don't ask me where it went, it just went. I slept so badly the night before that I may well have really missed out a week.
Just one more thing before I go. I looked at the monster for next week's Doctor Who in the Radio Times. I do not suggest you do likewise.
Yours very worriedly,
Choules 3

My faithful computer tells me it is 19:10, so I may have left this a little late. Still, better late than never.
Turns out I will be doing the aforementioned French trip after all. The French teacher seems adamant that we all come, and it should be good fun. Then again, why don't we go somewhere different? Oh, well, France is nice.
I've been quite busy recently, they certainly plunge you into it here. We've got a large blank display board to fill with rather few pieces of paper. I think we've got it sorted, though.
Adios, amigas!
Choules 3

...my first few days back at school! This does, unfortunately, mean that I am only going to be able to post at the weekends. Mind you, that's probably a significant improvement.
As I lay in bed the night before I went back, it took only a small calculation to work out that I spend 11 hours a day - 11! - at school. After another small calculation, I worked out that if I had gone to school since birth I would have spent around five and a half years there! And most of the rest would have been sleeping.
However, I am of course missing out a myriad of other factors. I have half an hour of break-time, about the same amount of quiet reading time in the afternoon, a games session, plenty of time for activities and mealtimes. Plus ample holiday time. It's not all bad.
Still...11 hours!

...the things that have been happening! Let's start from the beginning (of the holidays that is):
Firstly, my school choir went on a trip to France. Being a chorister myself, I went too. After several days of singing (of course), interesting activities, traumatic experiences on the minibus and similarly frenzied experiences in the 'supermarché', I came home to find a letter detailing another French trip. Non, non, et thrice non!
The rest of the holiday has so far progressed in the usual way: taking the occasional walk, catching up on reading or just enjoying the weather...
Ah. Not very good weather at the moment. But then you can't expect it to be sunny all the time, can you? Well you can if you live in the Sahara, but living in Berkshire, England doesn't give that much of an impression of the Sahara.
Until later, but not much later (I'm Spartacus!)
3, Choules 3

What's unusual, I hear you cry? The fact that I've actually made an entry, for once! It must be too much sun.

Referring to my 'famous last words' in my first entry, I'm sorry I seem to be so wonderfully incompetent at writing a regular and coherent blog! It's set to be quite chilly here in England, but then again, it always is. All is well in the Choules household, and hopefully we can keep it that way! I will post later to let you know a bit more (I wish!).

Hello, it's been a long time since my last entry, but I hope to do this more often. I've definitely turned towards computers now, I'm all over the place with div tags and other confusing stuff. I've got to get a flu jab today (ouch) but that should be alright. I'd rather have a sore arm than flu any day! Jake (a.k.a. Choules 3)

Hi! If this is how easy it is to maintain a website, then I'm all for it! Thanks for coming to my website, and I'll try and kepp you updated as often as possible!