The last part of the poetry course covered revenge, guilt, and excuse poems. Which are not poems about these things, but rather embodiments of them. We all had fun writing excuse poems, my excuses being a list of reasons for not leaving Swanwick in the morning.
Instead of a one hour/workshop session, we had the AGM. This is usually a pretty dry and quick affair to vote in the following year's committee, but this year took rather longer as we discussed (some with impassioned speeches) ways to raise funds for the school in future. We also had the auction for Curtis Jobling's signed doodles. All of the cats (Pilchard, Frankenstein's Cat, and Raa Raa) proved popular, and at one point we even had a husband and wife bidding against each other. The one that really set the floor on fire though was werewolf Bob the Builder
I was tired, but it was the last night which meant the last night disco. I made the effort to stay up and dance the night away, although resisted the temptation to continue the party in the bar with friends. Getting up in the morning is enough of a problem, and Friday is always an early start. It was nearly 1am when I crawled into bed, and that was plenty late enough for me.