Got an F on the Biology exam. I DESPISE Biology. We ended up not having the French test. What did I learn what agriculteur pauvre means for?

When William, the biggest dick in our form asked our Latin teacher if she “supports fags?”. She said: “God made man and woman to live in love and harmony. That’s all I’m going to say.” She also said that 10 years ago she had witnessed an exorcism. People with this level of unprofessionalism should be fired. At once. You aren’t a religion teacher. You’re a Latin teacher. At you are good at explaining neither of those two subjects. So shut the bloody fuck up.

When I got home, I made guacamole. I called Dad to tell him to get me some cream for the tarte. I swept the floor in the pantry, tidied and cleaned the two bathrooms, put the laundry to dry, put bathroom mats to wash at 95 degrees Celsius and dusted my piano. Hailey came round to deliver the dough for the tart. Studied English for my literature test tomorrow. Baked cases for the tarts. Then Violet came round to “help” with the dessert. She brought chocolate and. . .margarine! How can you even? How?! It was supposed to be butter. This is blasphemy!

So we made the filling in 45 minutes’ time. It wasn’t unbearably awkward. I tried to give her a hint that it was time to leave once we had finished with the dessert. She didn’t get it. Also, this is vital to the story which I’m now ending, but this is of great importance, I assure you. When I told her to pour the cream into the pot (which was in a bigger pot filled with boiling water) she asked: “Which one?”.
That’s it for today.

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