Am I glad that week is over.

Yes, it's finally finished, thank goodness, with all its stress and hecticness.

So, on Wednesday night when I got home from the show (more on that story later, agh) I found three letters waiting for me. One was a letter from my lovely girlfriend, which made me exceedingly happy, and I didn't do it the justice it deserved at the time by not really taking it in. This was because the two other letters were from RADA and LAMDA respectively, offering me auditions. Why is this bad? I hear you ask. Naturally, it isn't bad. I was ecstatic, until I turned the sheet over, and nearly fainted when I read the audition date on the RADA one. Wednesday 14th December, it read. Yes, that's right - next Wednesday. And me not remotely prepared. I got not a wink of sleep that night and frantically learnt all of my King Lear speech the next morning, and then went and screamed at poor Amanda and Rose for about ten minutes continuously.

Fortunately, my life is now saved - the ever lovely drama department have constructed a web of lies for me in order to get the audition put off until January, and we're currently waiting for a new date from RADA. This is good, this is very good. I don't ever want to come that close to heart failure ever again. Now it's postponed I can look on the bright side, and maybe indulge in some appallingly joyous dancing - theyactuallygavemeanaudition!!!! Now, to get the audition pieces up to RSC standard. *gulp*

Life can begin again, as that damn show is over. The phrase 'bloody thankless task' comes to mind. It really does. Not a word of thanks from Jonathan, and really, I think he could have managed it. I was surprised to be thanked by lots of the boys, actually. They were very nice, even though they hadn't really enjoyed the whole makeup - slicked down hair experience. Girls get no prizes, however. Am distinctly glad I didn't go to the after show party, although many encouraged me too. I feel such events are a feature of my reckless youth, particularly this morning, when everyone was talking about the Events of Saturday night. I'm pretty sure somebody would have tried to compromise me, which they would have certainly regretted. And I'm also sure that nobody will quite be able to look at dear Henry in the same way again - him and odd little pink knitwear Nell who everyone thought was mad for Andy - became...more than just friends, shall we say. I never thought Henry was the type. He looks like he'd just sit quietly in a corner nursing a beer. Still, glad the damn thing's over, even though I have made some new friends. I can get my social life back and stop singing the damned songs. They're just so...irritatingly catchy.

Also, the history coursework is done! Done forever, ahaha. Now, just to finish the last rewrite of the English coursework, and I shall be freeeee! Free until early January, at any rate. And that's good enough for me.

I went on my first foray into the terrible world that is Christmas shopping on Saturday. I didn't make as much progress as I'd have liked, but I got a couple of good things. Am starting to panic slightly about what to get my mum, however. Possibly a trip into Acessorize with a large amount of money I never want to see again is in order. I may have to wrap everyone's presents in silver foil if I don't have any money left for nice wrapping-y stuff. Sorry, you lot. It'll be...very nice, upmarket silver foil? I'll iron it, or something. Those of you I haven't got anything for yet - damn you, you buggers. Why are you so awkward? Obviously it must be something deficient in you, and nothing to do with the fact I simply cannot think of a good gift to get you.

Tthis is all for now, as Ev has come online, and that's rare and wonderful enough to tear me away from all other lesser pursuits.