Dirty Downstairs

It’s still arsingly freezing cold in this house. I had to get a blanket out of the emergency supplies yesterday evening. I don’t care that Matron gave me a look that suggested she thought I really ought to be a lot more hardy about things. It’s cold. I’m trying to stay warm. It’s as simple as that. Why deliberately suffer?

Unfortunately the Siberian temperatures are making it almost unbearable to set foot in the showers. That water is never really what you could describe as hot. It doesn’t matter most of the time but in weather like this you really need it to burn. So I’m not feeling at my most hygienic. Which means I should probably steer clear of Zoe Hall this evening. Don’t want to find that she’s suddenly up for a bit of how’s your father when I’m less than spring clean down there… I’m sure I’m being overly cautious. We’re doubtless several months away from the fellating stage of our not-yet-started relationship but with girls sometimes they just whip it out and get to work. Of course I don’t speak from experience but Henry (whom I'm inclined to believe when it comes to matters of the bedroom) said he’s been caught unawares on two occasions. It’s not that he’s particularly handsome. But his position of alleged power, being head of house, does funny things to females perception of him. It’s a nonsense of course but it’s sadly true.

I’m going to call home this evening. I’m imaging it’s safe now. I’m going to confess that I didn’t pass the test again. It’s obvious to all that I’ve just been the victim of unfortunate circumstance and Dad would never give me any grief over these things. I just feel it would be polite to advise him in advance this time that he’s about to be billed for a third test in the next week or so. I’m hoping I can get it in before Christmas. Especially if things kick off with Zoe at her party. I’d look so damn cool if I was able to drive over to her house.