I visited the Watch Tower. We had a Morgannwg Barbecue on the cliffs. We celebrated the second years finishing exams. We ran back from Marcross. We had a Second Year show, mocking them as they did to us. We signed yearbooks, made promises, hugged constantly.
From being the homesick girl across the Atlantic, leaving AC was horrible. I didn't want to. Much to my mothers dismay, when she told me '3 sleeps left!', I nearly began to cry. I didn't want to leave my second years. It was proof to me that I was in the perfect place. If not wanting to leave for summer vacation is my biggest problem... well life is good.
So I apologise for not writing in the blog. I suppose the beginning needed constant updates... and then I became comfortable that it didn't seem necessary.
I love AC. August 7th I get to go back. Third Term is 'death term'. Or so they say. Challenge accepted.
***Two of the first years wrote a song for the Graduation Ceremony, and Jacob from Denmark sang it while playing the guitar. It was beautiful. It described my love for the castle, and the people that made it my home.
docs.google.com
If that doesn't work, here are the lyrics:
If that doesn't work, here are the lyrics:
Oh second-years, are you still leaving us tonight?
We heard that you missed bus 145.
To London Heathrow
You're ever welcome with us, any time you like.
Let's go to the sea side and revive our nocturnal night rides.
And we won't get worried, no. X2
And you won't get weary.
We're sure you'll be fine!
We love you, we love you, oh siblings so kind.
In the quivering forest,
where the dead Lady Anne rests.
There's a withered old castle,
that we made our dear nest.
And the valley got rainy,
and the fridges got empty.
And the dayrooms lit up the night,
till the morning light.
Promise you'll miss your flights,
or at least that you'll write.
In the quivering forest,
where the dead Lady Anne rests.
There's a withered old castle,
that we made our dear nest.
And the valley got rainy,
and the fridges got empty.
And the dayrooms lit up the night,
till the morning light.
Promise you'll miss your flights,
or at least that you'll write.
Please...
