By Gigi Rice

 

A non descript day at the SCA. 

 

My darling readers, 

 

Today I whiz you away on the most marvellous of all journeys. An adventure deep into the heart of my average day at the worlds most hallowed ad school. 

 

All views are my own and are, as a result, subjective. 

 

7am. My alarm goes off. Hideous. Obviously I have no received a full nights sleep due to me writing my comedy class script IN MY HEAD at 11pm. I subsequently cannot stop writing it. It was funny though so although I am sleep deprived, it held some personal entertainment value. 

 

I drag myself to the bathroom after spending ten mins scrolling through all of your opinions on social media and most importantly, BBC news. 

 

I pee, brush teeth, tone, moisturise and stare at the girl with dark circles under her eyes gazing back. 

 

I’m ready to leave the house at 7:48. 

 

Everything is mechanical about my route to school. I stand at the point on the platform that allows for maximisation productivity. I am practically Swiss in my efficiency. The doors open one stop later at Victoria and I swan directly into the Victoria line opening opposite. I walk right down the platform for the Southbound train and sit in the far side of the carriage. 

 

This is so when I go past Pimlico I see the girl sitting on the platform that I see everyday. She has large brown curly hair and rests her head on the wall by the seats. I worry about her. She constantly looks sad. Also why does she sit in the same platform for like 20 mins, there is no other train coming, they all head to Brixton. 

 

By 8:18, I check for addicts outside the church and when there are thankfully none, stroll in. 

 

I usually find Munraj, Tommy and Phil here. I instantly complain about the heating and take my own self designated seat. 

 

I like this place, perfectly centred in the middle of the room so I have a nice overview of the comings and goings of the day and merely have to swivel round to attend Town Hall or an MC. 

 

Town hall ensues and Marc says something about working harder and doing more. I take his point but also fuck off. 

 

Onwards with an MC and then I scramble to begin the day’s work. 

 

Lunch is always strictly at 12pm, once I followed Marc’s schedule of having it at 1pm and boy did that throw me off. 

 

Munch lunch. Do life admin. Text boyfriend. 

 

Get on with the day which follows the below- 

 

Ideas

Get stuck 

External crisis

More ideas

The right idea

FLYING 

Mentor kills it

Internal crisis

Deadline looming 

Make a choice 

Internal crisis

Alcoholic beverage

 

And lo behold, it’s time to present. 

 

Following this it is now 6pm and I’ve got stuff to do for the following day. If it is a portfolio week, I’ll stay until it’s done. If not, I’ll go home and start at 9pm for an hour or thereabout. 

 

The screen time probably fucks my wind down to sleep. 

 

Oh well. There’s always tomorrow. 

 

12:36pm. I have an idea to save the world. Jesus Christ.