Kerry Provenzano

Kerry Provenzano
Kerry Provenzano
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The British weather may have forgotten that July is meant to mean sunshine, but summer is most definitely here.

I’ve slipped quite happily into days of long lie-ins, late nights and coming home for dinner before heading off out again.

Between lazing around and doing pub quizzes, however, I’ve found myself rather lost without having lessons to attend.

I keep spotting my psychology books out of the corner of my eye (they’re looking at me right now) and as much as I try to block it out, my brain is pleading to be fed with information.

I’m almost ashamed (do you hear that Brain? Ashamed!) that I’m finding myself kind of... *whispering* missing education.

I think I’ve just reached the stage now where I need some new knowledge to keep my brain occupied and to stop it from dying.

I know this because I’ve found myself doing rather odd things in an attempt to fill the hole that not being educated has left me with.

Firstly, the other day I decided that if the weather wasn’t going to give me a tan then I’d give myself one.

I’ve never been one to fake tan, but I pulled out a bronzy, misty spray thing and began spraying my right arm rather happily.

Now I don’t know about you, but since it was a spray I thought it’d be an instant thing; you know, like spray paint.

Turns out that wasn’t the case. So I’m staring down at my still very pale arm and, perplexed, I wondered whether it was actually some kind of deodorant. Either way it didn’t seem to have done much so I 
chucked it back in my drawer and carried on with my day. The following morning I awoke to find my arm was so orange it looked as though I had dipped it in the world’s largest bag of Doritos.

I guess it wasn’t deodorant after all.

I’ve spent many of my showers trying to scrub it off but it hasn’t budged.

It’s been a few days now and I’m still sporting an oompa loompa arm.

I also found myself sitting in the petrol station blaring Classic FM full blast, which was both extremely immature and absolutely hilarious.

People nearby didn’t know whether to tut in disgust or admire my impeccable (and rather classy) music selection.

So that’s a rough summary of my summer so far.

To put it simply, my brain cells are dying rather rapidly, despite my attempts to amuse myself. And I fear my brain will be completely squished by September.