Stomp the Yard.

I couldn't wait for today to begin. Today, you see, we were due to attend a "creative industries workshop" day oddly set at a local dockyard.

There I was - cola in one hand, inspiration in the other. I waited for the bus to pull up in order to start our epic journey which became very interesting very quickly.

After the mad panic was over to secure the back seat of the bus for myself, as that is where all the cool kids sit - I secured myself to my newly-claimed seat, which was stained with 10 years of service to an all-boys grammar school. Moments later, the bus lurched to life - but we didn't even reach the end of the drive before the bus following us in convoy used Team America's secret signal to stop us as if we were about to die.

Little did we know - we were. And if you remember correctly, I already died once on Friday - I'm not doing it twice in one month. Reason for our close brush with death? Our exhaust pipe had pretty much fallen off, and had drawn an artistic black line down a good length of the drive. With that, the driver expertly captained the bus back up the drive in reverse whilst the students sat silently - terrified that the whole bus could collapse at any given second. Fortunately, the expert staff found and resolved the problem (by duct taping the exhaust back to the bus which is in no way a health and safety breach) before our journey set sail to the promised land once again.

However, as the day started - It was obvious I had made a terrible mistake. My mistake? I shouldn't of woken up that morning - my own, twisted dream world would have been a far safer place.

Instead of learning the things I thought I'd learn - like camera operations, or film production - I was taught (and I use the word "taught" very loosely) to "street dance". Now, you've probably never met me Mr. Forty-year-old-stalker-from-Holland, but let me tell you something. There is a reason you don't see camera operators dance - it's because we can't.

In front of us stood a good looking young lady in her mid-twenty's who was able to pull of the various "street" moves with a touch of class - and there we were. A group of teenage media students, wobbling alot on the spot - looking about as "gangster" as a double bill of "Songs of praise". After 'Pop locking' for an hour and a bit, it was time to part company with our newly-met dance teacher. She smiled when we left. I can't blame her. I smiled too. I'll save my dancing for embarrassing my limited number of friends at nightclubs when those places no longer terrify me with there loud music, flashy lights - and "fashion sense".

Tomorrow, however, I will attempt to get a new hair style. I'd say I'm optimistic, but, my hair is good at one thing. Looking sucky. Check tomorrows post to find out what happens in my incredibly manly hair styling session-type-thing!

Peace.

PS. We also heard a band play some music today. They were very good. Mind you, that is in my opinion. You might not like them.