traduire?

I should be writing an essay on the changing influence of public opinion on the conduct of warfare, or at the very least trawling through a truly horrific amount of French translation, but it's a Monday night, and as such, I am watching Glee. I am also quietly celebrating the return of my wireless connection, so instead of freezing my metaphorical balls off in Helen's room, I am nice and cosy in the lounge, drinking endless cups of tea to keep me sane in the face of all the trouble I will get in tomorrow due to the general lack of work I have done this half term. This year in fact. I really need to step up my game, get back on track and any other sports metaphors you can think of.

Now I know I do tend to ramble on a bit in my writing, but I have finally found a way in which I can channel this misdirected enthusiasm. Anna Muggeridge came into sixth form earlier having bought two Mills and Boon books for her mother's birthday. I was leafing through in my usual, cynical manner, expecting the books to be poorly written, but they weren't. They were abysmally written. I even spied the phrase "He whispered stuff in her ear." Then, to my horror, several of my friends admitted to reading these books without any sense of irony. One of these friends, I won't name names, is eighteen in two months, and it hit me. For her birthday present, I am going to write my very own romance novel. My friends and I set out the rules. It has to be as cheesy as possible, but I'm not allowed to be mocking. It will genuinely be my best effort at a story that the birthday girl will actually enjoy. Who knows? I may have found my calling... I hear those substandard authors are loaded!

Five days into the veggie thing, I have had my first proper meat craving. I was lusting over a greasy, disgusting sausage roll this morning. I didn't even eat those when I was eating meat! Nevertheless, I am determined to see this through. I haven't cheated at all!