It’s rather amazing what a person can accomplish when the ordeal of ploughing your way through a day of school and all that it entails subsides and you are given a poorly named “holiday”.
However, despite copious amounts of work (which I would rather have than not have, I am very lucky to have such a good education) there are some perks to being at home. For one thing, I can wake up when my brain thinks I’ve had enough sleep, instead of being wrenched into consciousness by the angry beep of my alarm clock.
I can enjoy a peaceful breakfast without calculating the maximum amount of liquid I can consume without spending the morning negotiating with my teachers the part of the lesson in which they would let me leave the classroom and go to the toilet. I could spend my summer holiday serving my country, but when it comes to the capacity of my bladder, my teachers are very much the experts. I’ll give them some credit; it is enjoyable to watch fellow classmates in the same situation as they rock from side to side and have looks on their faces which make you wonder if this will be the day in which the hypothesis “you are old enough to hold it” frequently tested by teachers will finally be proven to be wrong.
Along side this pleasure, I can sit at my desk and enjoy the view of the garden when I look up from my work, and marvel at the gravity-defying squirrel who often comes and hangs at awkward angles from the tree to nibble at the bird feeder (who we have named Tim, after the astronaut Tim Peake).