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A Life in the Day of . . . Jodie Rabin

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Introduction

A Life in the Day of . . . Jodie Rabin As the tickling sensation travels through my foot at about 7.15am I meagrely attempt to kick my mother in order to make her stop. Of course, I'm still three quarters asleep and can't even see her so my foot generally ends up waving in thin air, or, if I'm unlucky - which is too often the case - it hits the wall. Even when this does happen the pain is not as dreadful as the prospect of school (especially double Physics on a Tuesday morning) so I roll over and try to catch an extra few minutes of desperately needed sleep. Tickling is my mother's most recent method of waking me and although she needs to come into my room at least three times before I'm out of bed, it's actually more successful than previous ideas. A few weeks ago it was the "If you don't get up we'll leave home without you!" phase, yet I always knew my mother would wait because, in accordance with so many mothers, my education is too important to her. My father is never 'lucky' enough to be inflicted with the traumas of waking me up - he's already left for work. ...read more.

Middle

Albans boys school rather late. Jeremy often continues, "Why didn't you get up earlier?!" Clearly, he's already aware of the answer because I know he can be tired too, but the antagonising tone in his voice results in my responding and the commencement of a shouting match. If truth were to be told it can be great having a twin, we have many of the same friends and we do generally get on well; the only exception being on school mornings when we're both in bad moods. However even this has a good point. Thinking up sarcastic comments requires thought and as I begin to use my brain, I gradually turn from a sleepwalking, extremely drowsy zombie into Jodie Rabin, a normal teenage girl - that is, of course, if you can ever describe a teenage girl as normal; but at least I arrive at school slightly more alert and prepared for work. When actually in those dreaded lessons I do try as hard as possible - even if some of my teachers and I 'don't see eye to eye'. I strongly believe in the whole, 'women should be treated as equals in the work-place' issue and I therefore aim to get myself an exceedingly high-up, well-respected job. ...read more.

Conclusion

Hmm... if only that would happen sooner rather than later. Daydreaming about this specifically is a regular occurrence for me. The requirement of hair products, magazines, make-up, and other such articles that I am not able to obtain the money for from my parents, causes me to often feel as if my pocket money has just vanished by magic into our atmosphere. If only it could reappear at the instant click of my fingers. Waiting to collect Jeremy from his coach means I return from school just in time for Neighbours at half past five. Those sublime twenty-five minutes of my favourite soap allow me to forget any troubles, money or otherwise, and relax before beginning that dreadful slog known as homework. As I realise I carelessly forgot to write down what page the French exercise was on, or whether my Latin was supposed to be in rough or neat, (not that my untidy scrawl is legible either way) I pick up the phone to ask one simple question of a mate. A long discussion that plainly cannot be interrupted half way through is soon under-way and the next thing I know is that it's late. By the time my work is completed I'm exhausted and as soon as my head hits the pillow I've drifted into a land that only tickling can bring me back from. ...read more.

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