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. . . as I have undeniably resumed activity on the journals. As concerned parties may have noticed, I have been conspicuous in my absence of late. I did, as no doubt completely fails to shock long-time residents, spend the majority of last week in one of my many stints in the Medlab. As I have only have this short time before I am admitted -- for reasons which are, incredibly, entirely voluntary -- I thought perhaps the time had come to enlighten the general populace about my whereabouts this summer.
No doubt some have wondered at the coincidence of one Jennie Stavros and I returning simultaneously to the school. In fact, this miraculous timing was no coincidence at all. For you see, this summer Jennie and I eloped.
It was magical. We met in Paris, and in that city of romance realized our love. It was a very beautiful ceremony. Jennie wrote her own vows. I cried like a baby. A hungry, angry baby. Alas, our fragile young marriage faced many trials: my wandering eye, her wandering heart, and the fact that she is taken by some previously unmentioned religion that sets mysterious prohibition on sex with Australian nationals. By the time the school set about to retrieve us from our errant ways we had already grown quite tragically estranged.
For an excruciating month these sad circumstances endured, until, happily, last week I fell victim to the mismailed efforts of a former staff member's stalker. The subsequent extremity proved sufficient to force a reconciliation, possibly aided in some small part by the tree she dropped on my head. Now, with the approval of my loving parents (who I feel compelled to mention that after a year's separation from their beloved son will not leave) we plan a renewal of our vows.
And that, my friends, is what I did on summer holiday. Duty thus fulfilled, I return my attentions to ma petite chou, who perhaps now that I shall tomorrow undergo a new and thrilling medical procedure will suffer my touch upon her. But probably not.
No doubt some have wondered at the coincidence of one Jennie Stavros and I returning simultaneously to the school. In fact, this miraculous timing was no coincidence at all. For you see, this summer Jennie and I eloped.
It was magical. We met in Paris, and in that city of romance realized our love. It was a very beautiful ceremony. Jennie wrote her own vows. I cried like a baby. A hungry, angry baby. Alas, our fragile young marriage faced many trials: my wandering eye, her wandering heart, and the fact that she is taken by some previously unmentioned religion that sets mysterious prohibition on sex with Australian nationals. By the time the school set about to retrieve us from our errant ways we had already grown quite tragically estranged.
For an excruciating month these sad circumstances endured, until, happily, last week I fell victim to the mismailed efforts of a former staff member's stalker. The subsequent extremity proved sufficient to force a reconciliation, possibly aided in some small part by the tree she dropped on my head. Now, with the approval of my loving parents (who I feel compelled to mention that after a year's separation from their beloved son will not leave) we plan a renewal of our vows.
And that, my friends, is what I did on summer holiday. Duty thus fulfilled, I return my attentions to ma petite chou, who perhaps now that I shall tomorrow undergo a new and thrilling medical procedure will suffer my touch upon her. But probably not.
