I’ve never quite understood why people needed drugs to make them feel happier, but I have to say that if there existed a drug that made you more organized and disciplined, I’d be shooting up every hour.
My mooting semi-finals are on Monday. On the same day, I have to go to the English-Speaking Union and discuss a debate I have to do for Commonwealth Day.
Given my history of real-time mooting i.e. I only come up with most of the arguments as the moot’s actually in progress, which is Really Not Fun, I do think I should put a bit more trouble into preparing for these, since they’re semi-finals, and I’m not into public humiliation. The problem is that the Commonwealth Day debate is sort of important, because it involves going to the Foreign Office and Westminster Abbey and meeting ministerial types, and they’re broadcasting it over the Internet. So I think I should try and bridge the rather large gap between my current ignorance and apathy in matters Commonwealthy, and the paragon of post-colonial, politically informed, politically correct, Commonwealth youth which I’ll have to be on the day.
Bit of a tall order for a rather small girl.
But I said I’d do it, so I guess I should then do my best to make it a successful event. Anything less just wouldn’t be cricket, as my past colonial masters would say.
But musings on a dying (some would say dead) Empire making vain attempts at clutching tattered shreds of dignity around it as it shivers in the cold winds of a unipolarized world in which it crouches, lapdog-like, at the heels of a speech-impaired elephant wearing a rodeo hat aside, this all means that I really should get started on things today.