Becky and I have been boarding at London Photography Academy for one week already and it already feels as though we have lived here all our lives. Every morning Becky wakes me up (I'm the one who sleeps in) and yells at me that we have five minutes to get up for our first lesson, that I've missed breakfast and that she sneaked me a slice of toast from the table.
If it's a Saturday I'm awake before Becky, or at the same time because that's the day that we miss all our basic lessons (English, Maths, Science etc.) that are compulsory in the week days. Instead we study history of photography, camera and video studies and lots more. So you can see why I don't enjoy getting up on any day other than the weekend.
On these days we are allowed to go around the whole academy and its grounds, and take photos of whatever we think might help us in our exam, or that might win the photography competition. Twice a year the school takes part in a national photography competition for the whole country. In case you are wondering how I know all this after being at the college for only one week, there's a library.
Sunday is the day off. Now, you may think that having only one day off in the week is horrible, but trust me, Saturday is always better than Sunday. Because I get up so early, I take a trip to the library and do my homework and study the history of photography. This is usually the only homework I get in the whole week, so I get that nice feeling of being free for the rest of the day.
But that feeling only lasts for two minutes because, as I am packing up, Becky comes in asking me whether I have done the work. So then I sit down for another half hour to help Becky with her history of photography. We usually grab a slice of toast so we can get down to the Academy's gardens quickly. This is because after 10 am, the gardens are full of students wanting to take photos. If you get there early, you don't have to fight over a pretty flower.
We take as many photos as we can, and then at 9:55 we head up to the memorial. As we walk into the garden of stone signs and small flower patches, we hear the yells of thousands of eager students who have finished their breakfast. As they walk towards the gardens, we enter the quiet peaceful memorial, to find several total bookworms who prefer to read outside. We settle down to take a few pictures, and when I spot a purple primrose, we hear a loud CRASH.
It sounds as if the Smith twins are up to no good.
YOU ARE READING
life behind a lens
Historia Cortathis was first published when i was 13 so it's mediocre and embarrassing but i'm keeping it here for the sake of nostalgia and character development. read at your own risk :)
