I was bolted.

I was bolted. I could never imagine Stephen Fry so frighteningly thin and Auntie Thompson so frighteningly young (and a bit like our junior middle chinese teacher really). It is obvious Hugh Laurie has given every bit of his extra fat to Fry during their corporations in later years by some unknown means and Fry himself has managed to pick much other extra bits himself, again by mysterious means. He was quite an acceptable bugger by look at that time. Play, Alfresco. Bunch of Cambridge fellows and sheilas. (A little sob, if I could venture further in to the sentimental realms...) Good old days... The auntie's complexion has become much, well, bronzier, and Laurie has picked up so many wrinkles really. To think all these people are getting old... And I'm freakin' stumbling to bloody 18, no more than 12 months away... Seethin'... You fckin' get to realize you've encountered many people too late, only in recent years, when I've finally got some sentiment for bloody English; and missed so many good chances just because I was unbelievably smug and ignorant. As is the case of Menhuin. If I had paid attention to him some years earlier, I'd get suicidal before I missed his concert in Beijing, just one, two years before his death. But I was only 8, 9 at the time, right? So the essential prob is the wrong birth time. Karajan died in 1989. Lindgren died in 1995. And countless... Doesn't really make sense. But it is as if you had been born in a blank verse of time, literally. To imagine meself in the Elizabethan time for example, would be unpractical. Anyway the sanitary or hygienic conditions would be disastrous, and most likely I would land in the same place, which means I would be suffering among some freakin' braided people with some shiny foreheads and strange cheekbones, not to mention the brows part. I don't mean so exaggeratingly wrong a time. This one I have, is totally uneventful, if not mention the Olympic thing, this and that. Even if I be content with this Placidness, my birth time and my peers' is just, well, the NICK of time. We were doing some accountant work today. We are now in Senior 3. The lastmost bunch of old textbook users, which means it would be hell if we failed the exam. The last and the next mass will not suffer this. We were doing the Senior Middle entering exam when the Germany World Cup began. And we were in the so called most important summer vacation before Senior 3 when the Olympics broke out. The last mass was free as birds, and the next bunch of noisy students were busy scuffling around doing hell-knows-how-happy voluntary works, and at the same time depriving us of our delicious track and field and basketball hockey tickets. We did not enjoy anything in particular in our free years in which every so-called festival seemed to be tapering both in length and quality. And when these freakin' noisy youngsters came there's this fckin' natinal table tennis team visit, and countless...
    Uneventfulness is not totally against Chinese people's dispositions, right? But an uneventful life with so many trifles and annoyances is really bloody annoying, tiring, making people seething...
    Well, back to what I was saying. Been watching a lot of Rowan Atkinson and accidentally bumped into bulging-eyed Laurie. And fatty Fry (good surname I say). So watched lots of Laurie (and Laurie&Fry). And in order to watch his Doctor House I had to have my ears painfully tortured by Amc Acc. And Ben Miller and The Vicar of Dibley and freakin' lots of English sitcoms. Me Got an abnormal pathological taste of humour nowadays. Find Laurie a really talented fellow. Fry making strange whistle like sounds through his teeth when he speaks EngliSH... As to Atkinson, too hard to cover in one word. Just... weird.