It's Sunday now, but when this will be posted I do not know.
The Survey is finally published! But my computer is muffed. I guess it's a compromise. But today I put my sites into various search engines, I can expect them to be put in the directories in 2 weeks to several months, but it's quicker than my IT teacher marks practise coursework.
So this past week saw, literally, the downfall of the helium balloon. Finally succumbing to gravity, the teddy bear head floated down onto the lecturn in the middle of assembly on Thursday. But not before captivating an audience of about 800 on Monday...
It all began in Kum bay Ar (is that right?) on Tuesday. The balloon had been spotted in various areas at the front of the hall in th week before, floating discontentedly between the panels in the ceiling. These panels are painted the nastiest shade of red known to man, and I don't blame the balloon for being restless. So we stood there singing weakly as we always do, when the balloon began to slowly drift downwards, then towards the balcony, where we were, and the up and away again on the line "Oh, Lord, kum bay ar", this being the only line that anyone really knows. We are supplied with hymn books, but no one wants to sing, really we don't.
So the balloon wafted around as Mrs Tann, she of the deformed toes, gave another of her demeaning, belittling assemblies. I can't remember if this one involved fuzzy-wuzzies or not, I wasn't listening. And neither was anyone else. We were all transfixed by this single pocket of helium in the hall, floating dreamily above year 9. Lucky for us we were on the balcony, so we could watch it all t eye level.
And then it happened. After being told to ignore the balloon, and after ignoring being told to ignore the balloon, we watched, horrified, as it ducked under the front arch of the stage, only to rise again in the panels above, out of our view! Was all lost? Was the saga's ending lost forever? An audible sigh left the mouths of every upperschool girl as we lost, seemingly forever, our morning's entertainment. Never again would assembly be so amusing, and never again would a helium balloon offer us such light relief (ba-dum cha).
Or so we thought.
Thursday met us with the second half of the Africa appeal assembly, which I actually found interesting, but I think I was a minority of 1. But then, suddenly, a glint caught the communal eye. Everyone turned hteir heads slightly and there, wafting in its own, lazy style, fell the balloon, into the lap of Mr Mancey (what DOES he do? No one knows!). He hustled it off into the wings of the stage, spending longer than can be healthy with this balloon, in the wings.
And so the story ends. What fate befell the poor balloon, no one except Mr Mancey knows, and by the amount of time he spent off-stage, I'll be glad if he takes it to the grave.
