French class. After I had received two zero (pronounced zea-Ro, with the French R, our French teacher was no where less moody than the pouty lips teenage girls.) in one class, I rushed out and argued with Misuer Dick Head. I forgot what he said, I was humiliated and vexed. Before I spitted my most darkest curse in his eye, I saw this meek looking girl standing in the corner. Thought to myself, girl like this will not join us revols. I fought the evil French like a hero. At the end, I was kicked out off the class and failed French. That girl sticked around and learnt some French.
When I was truly young, I knew only one kind of strength. And a lot later, did I learn the truth of it.
That girl is Miss Rice. Later on, I knew her as being arrow straight but never scar others to show her right. Considerate but never condescending. After we all grow older and getting more cunning, she still manages to maintain a sense of innocence that give her trust to friends without hesitation.
Fish and chips. English Sunshine. Theme Park by the sea. Jamie Oliver Home cooking. Seven sisters. Cream Tea. Some very lovely time with Miss Rice. This is my best English holiday.
