And by Literati, I mean those hundreds of kids my age currently analysing everything they've ever read, ever, for all traces of love. Yes, I refer to those: English Literature students.
I'm writing this laying on the floor on top of a piece of paper nearly as big as me, gridded and shaded and scrawled on. This is merely the first part of the prose section of my wider reading - there's another prose, a poetry and a drama grid leaning against the wall.
For it is the Easter holidays, and my 'friendly class rival' has posted pictures on Facebook of his completed grid. It is beautiful. Mine must therefore be spectacular! (Except I'm now finding out just how long it takes to fill in sixteen one inch-by-one inch boxes about a book. About an hour a pop, if you're interested. It's tough stuff.)
Anyway, I'm rereading/skimming several books. This morning, I did Eve Green, Wuthering Heights and Atonement, and I'm just about to begin on Chronicle of a Death Foretold, thereby revising Spanish while I go...
Next time I get bored (in approximately 58 minutes), I shall write about my amazing trip to see Antony and Cleopatra in Stratford on Monday.
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