'It's Easter, and goddammit, Jesus drank red wine too!'

Or so I slurred whilst roasting a chicken on Easter Sunday.

The sacrilege did not stop there, but I will.

We've finished exams and I couldn't be happier. I can now go back to cooking for myself in the evening rather than cramming the last few scraps of random knowledge into my head, such as, 'Why is a raven like a writing desk?' Only it's more, 'What's the visual difference between Braque and Picasso?' or 'How do you tell if it's St. Cloud or Rouen?'

Answers:

1. Nothing. One costs a hell of a lot more.

2. St. Cloud has a glaze that looks like melting ice cream, Rouen has a more dense pattern and less visible body. (And one is soft paste porcelain whilst the other is earthenware....)

Now that the tedious daily 'brush-up' is over and done, I've been able to quickly rid myself of the pesky grey cells I have been carefully cultivating by drinking with my adopted British family in Bournemouth. In the state I was in whilst cooking I would have probably broken expensive crockery (fine ceramics to some), and backed into paintings (I can do a hell of a lot better than 30cm into a Picasso!).

But now that the exams and long weekend are over I am preparing my dissertation proposal, as is everyone else.

Golden Retriever has no idea what she wants to do. Just that it's probably going to be ceramics. Cocker Spaniel is quite excited by Scottish furniture or costume within paintings and Afghan Hound is leaning toward European ceramics. Me? Scottish portraiture of the late 18th century.

In a desperate bid for attention The Voice went up to the tutor after our explanatory lecture and said, 'Yea, I have like, no idea what I want to do. I mean, I like, know I don't want to do ceramics, but I could like see myself in furniture or old masters or modern art.'

The tutor suggested she consider doing a PG Dip instead of a MA.

HA! I wonder if maybe the tutors are just as fed up with her as we are?

I'll drink to that.