These things really DO only happen to me. Right?

I've been meaning to write this post for days but have been so busy that I just couldn't find the time. How is it that my whole day is always accounted for by something? Every time I think I have 5 minutes free, something crops up, or I realise that I've forgotten to do something etc etc. I need a break. But have just realised that technically (since I am using up my Easter holiday to get the blessed bathroom installed), my next really free day is in August. Hmmmmmmm...

Anyway, enough of the moaning. Let's talk about the Stagecoach Malta Drama Camp I had last weekend/half-term. Basically, Stage 3 Stagecoach students spent a fun-filled three days from Sunday to Tuesday with teachers (moi, drama teacher Toni, dance teacher Emma and music teacher Matt) and Stagecoach Principals (Edward and Marika) at Mount St Joseph near Mosta, and what a blast it was! The place is really cool with ensuite bathrooms , lovely grounds full of trees, a beautiful view and fantastic food - chicken legs, curry, cake for tea-time, ice cream and much more - yum!. And when the kids were in bed, it was time for the prinjolata and choccie cakes of course! At one point Matt turned to me and said "Do you realise that today we have already eaten 7 times?!" It was then that I resolved to goon a diet... in April!

During the day, we thought up games for the kids and Toni gave a brilliant talk on Commedia Dell'Arte which I am going to shamelessly poach for my lessons. Matt and Emma also devised a little song about Stagecoach Malta teacher to the tune of 'I like the way you move' which was a hilarious success. On Saturday evening, the kids performed bits, songs and dances from musicals for us. And on the Tuesday morning, we (the 'adults'!) even put up a short mystery murder play as a surprise for the kids which we had rehearsed a few times. It went better than expected - we all dressed up and put on make up and it was really fun. Insomma, it was all a great success.

You know, in things like this, there is always something that people remember even years later. And this time, I am doubtlessly going to be very involved in this long-lasting memory.

I had decided not to sleep over since I only live 8 minutes away (yes, I timed it). So on the Sunday evening, after the kids had gong to bed exhausted, the rest of us went into a room where we could keep an eye and ear open for any shennanigans, and we settled down to munch on the wonderful prinjolata provided by Emma's fiance and the goodies provided by one of the mummies. At about 1 am, I decided it was time for me to go home, so Marika came to the front door with me.

We get to the front door. It's locked. There is no key. A few stunned moments later, Edward and the rest come downstairs. We tell them about the situation. They guffaw hysterically (but quietly so as not to wake the kids up). Toni comes up with the bright idea of me climbing out of his (ground floor) window. We all run to his room. We open the window. The window has bars in front of it. The others all laugh hysterically with tears in their eyes. I start wishing I'd brought at least my PJ's and toothbrush.

Someone then suggests climbing out of the window of the meeting room. We all run to the other side of the building. The windows there are not barred but the gap is really small. I wonder if I can fit after eating all that prinjolata. I make it, barely. By now the hysterical laughter from the others has intensified greately. Someone hands me my bag and I run to my car. Where is my car? I've gone the wrong way. I finally find my car. As I try to fit the car key into the door, I hear loud barking coming my way. "Oh my God, they have guard dogs", squeaks my by-now demented brain. I cant find the bloody lock in the pitch darkness. I finally manage and get into my car with a sigh of relief. As I drive out of the car park and on to the private ring road, I see adorable two little doggies with collars, presumingly adopted by the Jesuits who run the place, playing in the fields.

I keep on driving and come to a... closed gate. Just as I am about to turn back in despair, they start opening veeeeeery slowly. By this time, I am also laughing hysterically. I manage to squeeze past the half-open gate. I drive home.

The next day I turn up at Mount St Joseph at 9 am (for breakfast). The others are having tea and toast. They turn to me and laugh. Edward informs me that the priests told him that the front door was not locked at all but merely fastened at the top, which I would have noticed had I bothered to check more carefully. I am now sure that I am a laughing stock in the Jesuit community.

These things really do only happen to me. Right?