Don't you just hate packing? It is, by far, the worst part about going on holiday. Apart maybe from unpacking, which is also crappy, though it has the advantage that you can chuck all your clothes in the laundry bin and thus they become someone else's problem.

Anyway, I thought that writing this would be a considerably more interesting and productive thing to do than to moon about my room, pretending to pack. You are lucky, imaginary audience.

So right now my room looks like it was just attacked by rampaging dogs on the hunt for food, with assorted clothes/ contents of washbag/ other holiday junk strewn across the carpet. This is usually very stressful for me as I am known for being something of a tidy freak when it comes to my room (Scage claims I have OCD when it comes to tidiness of my room; she is, of course, exaggerating.) But after a short sleep that comes from watching Dog Soldiers last night (which was good, if a little too gory), getting up early to help my dad go shopping and going out this afternoon on an emergency knickers buying mission, I am tired and really don't care. Lord knows how tired I'll be on Monday after getting back from Cardiff at 1am and getting the plane at 2pm. I'll have to sleep on the plane, only they have some great movies to watch (Monsters Inc, Freaky Friday, Hitch, the list is endless...) and I am loathe to miss them. We'll see how it goes.

So, you may have remarked that I was at Science Camp from Tuesday to Thursday. Its actual name was 'Science Masterclass', and it was at Pembroke College at Cambridge. Basically, a place for nerdy science kids to meet and blossom without getting beaten up. Well, not really. From what I saw and heard, most people there were as cynical as me towards the whole event, so it wasn't too bad. Actually, the divisions between the kids was much the same as those at school- there was a cliquey bunch of cool kids who wouldn't talk to anyone else, lots of normals and a few enthusiasts who were mostly avoided.

The best thing about it was my room, which I managed to get randomly, which was a whole big suite thing. Minus bathroom, sadly, but there was a wee kitchenette, living room and bedroom, all for little me. It took a great effort to not be unbearably smug about it when talking to less fortunate comrades. Actually, the Aylesbury Crew spent most of their free time in Rachel's room as she had 2 sofas (until they were carted away for being fire hazards) and pear drops. She also found a carton of Orange Juice in her fridge, which I think was new as it tasted fine. No one else would drink any though, funnily enough.

I don't think I learnt anything and it has, in fact, made me much less keen to study Science for a degree. We had some students come talk to us about the whole Cambridge experience- including a beautifully accented Scottish boy- and the ones doing science said that they had to attend about 10 lectures a week. 10 BLOODY LECTURES A WEEK?? I barely managed to sit through one without falling comatose. Not that flourine isn't a very exceiting element, as far as elements go, but I have a short attention span and I find it hard to listen attentively to someone talking solidly for 10 minutes, let alone a whole hour.

So I think the people who organised it failed in convincing me to attend. Not that I'd get the grades anyway. 2 As and a B maybe, but 3 As? Not likely.

I might put up some lovely photos of the formal evening if my good friend Priya provides me with them.

This may be my last entry before departing for Sri Lanka, in which case: so long, and I hope your next few weeks are filled with happiness.

P.S. This time tomorrow I will be 2 1/2 hours away from seeing Stipey and co. Yay!

**UPDATE**

A few of the better photos, as promised