Ah... Memories.... Like the corners of my mind...

I've been trawling through my email account that I've had for YEA - ERS this week. The Pook is away and I am finally stricken with boredom. I even tried to get some driving lessons, but that has fallen through after a lengthy process that I have neither the inclination nor the ability to do justice here. Let's just say I may try again on Monday. I may not. It's been about 13 years since I learnt to drive and things are not going to be easy. It's going to be an experience worth preserving in blog form though. Lucky you. 

But I digress, after I'd recklessly deleted lots of useful and important emails I found this folder called 'Jurassic Park'. (A little 'homage' to the great Alan Partridge there...)This was just one of the emails that made me laugh - a little tale from my first ever teaching job, nearly 10 years ago!! 

At this point you need to do the 'back in time' wavy hands/silly tune combo from Wayne's World. DO IT!!! 

It has been a fairly busy week at school. We had assessment week last week and I have been storing up all the marking to have fun with this weekend. Ugh. We also have our class assembly next Thursday and I don't fancy it in the slightest, I can tell you. Year three had their assembly today and I nearly died laughing. It was funnier than the reception one with the children with beards.

It was the story of David (Wearing a bizarre home-made cloak...) and Goliath.(Wearing a funny hat and what looked like a brown felt waistcoat on backwards, balancing precariously on a piece of the gymnastic equipment with a huge crash mat in front of him). The posh git who teaches Year 3 had brought in all this sound equipment and the kids had a microphone, all operated, wizard of Oz stylee by the teacher. Anyway, the thing is, they had a part in the play for God. They pointed out at the beginning that you couldn't see God, and that he was invisible... So, the play begins and all of a sudden God has a line....God's line is delivered through the PA system at about 8000 decibels. Plus there's a strange echoey quality to it.

It was like that bit in Eddie Izzard when he's explaining why they had those fancy illustrated letters in the alphabet to keep people awake. INT
HEBEGIN
NING...there was the word..." Remember? Everybody jumped! (For a second, I thought I'd have to rethink the whole religion thing...) It's at this point That I realise God is not - as I suspected - omnipresent, but a small boy behind a screen with a microphone and a woman telling him his lines. The Year 3 teacher quickly realised at this point that something needed to be done and made an adjustment that gave the impression that God's next line sounded like it was delivered from within a small box. At this point I lost whatever dignity I had left and had to have a small hysterical fit. Afterwards, you could hear God muttering unintelligably at times during the performance. 

Anyway, it carried on from there in the style that plays that have too much technical eqipment and small children combined are wont to do. At least it looked good, even the bit where Goliath was felled to his crash mat by being missed by two sponges thrown at him from David's mysterious wicker handbag. (The symbolism of which I'm still not sure of....) For which he gained a loud round of impromptue applause from the parents. As I said to my class afterwards, I hope no one's expecting that from us... We're reading from sheets, singing a hymn and getting the hell out of there, pride intact. I hasten to add, I will not be doing hand actions to any of the hymns. The only hand gestures I do have no place in a Catholic school.....

...And what have I got to show for it?

Just to let you know. I have just purchased 'Love is a battlefield' on itunes. What has become of me?

Damn you Pat Benetar, you spiky-haired 80s temptress, damn you.

In other news: We're having a pond constructed from HUGE railway sleepers in the garden. (As opposed to in the living room, of course...) I woke up and the garden was full of men. Sadly unattractive men, but you get what you're given.

"WE ARE YOUNG!!!" etc,etc...

The light of Seamen in our lives.

Thank God it's Wednesday. My half day. We also have "special" prayers this morning, which is rather too much God for that time of the morning for me! Today we had lit candles to carry representing 'the light of Christ in our lives'. I was the only one with no candle. We ran out, which I thought was pretty bloody ironic, to be honest. There was a very handsome sailor wandering about in there though so I was soon distracted from the tragic lack of Christ.

I LOVE a sailor. Have I mentioned? You know that bit in Sex and the City when they get all excited over 'Fleet Week'? Why don't we have that here?! Pffft. For the first time ever, we had a couple of boys come for their school interviews and one of them was really nice. I hope he comes. Obviously, if he does he'll no doubt be Evil. I know how to pick those!! Actually I'm very good over all. I have the gift of child-whispering. Not in a paedo way or anything... Usually when they get here, I whisper - but they are clearly not listening. Then follows the four months of shouting. It's a cosmic balance.

I discovered this post lurking around in my drafts. Here it is in its glorious entirety published for your entertainment!

Have just found a thick wiry hair on the communal computer... Ur.

Back in Black... (Please scream title AC/DC stylee)

I'm back. At work that is. In fact, as we speak or more correctly as I type, the boys are here and someone who is not me is lining them up on the doorstep. It's a thing we do here. I probably should be standing on the step, but quite frankly there is no reason for three of us to stand there and stare at children. Well, I see no need when I'm supervising on my own. In the volcanic ash cloud/no fly zone that has become Europe this week we are missing 6 boys and 2 members of staff. A couple of good ones unfortunately. Plough on! Or KBO as "Winston Churchill" said in Doctor Who yesterday. This means 'Keep Buggering On' he claims. Now you'll pardon me for being aware of what the verb 'To Bugger' means. This was 6.30 on a Saturday afternoon!! Small children were preparing to hide behind the sofa. Keep Buggering On? There'll be a spate of that phrase turning up in creative writing all week. Damn you Doctor Who.

I'm slowly recovering from my many medical/osteopath appointments this week. I have been poked and prodded to within an inch of my life and if I have to take my clothes off in front of strangers (not in a sexy way!) ONE MORE TIME, so help me. Now I just have to wait for scary test results. (and coincidentally a pair of jeans - v. nice though. Possibly only pair of non-prestressed jeans existing in the whole of the world. Stupidstupidstupid. I can wear them out myself, stop helping!) Once these have arrived I can forget about doctors and just carry on with my range of clearly incurable afflictions for the rest of my natural life.

Should probably briefly show face around school and look busy or something...

In other news: While we were shoving the IKEA castle of flatpack furniture into the car, my mother, Tinge (her young man) and myself were all standing around trying to organise ourselves when Stupid dog emerged from the house at top speed slink and tried to cram himself in on top of the stuff. He thought we were all leaving without him and his little furry face was all alarmed and panicky. Had to take him back in and shut the front door until he calmed down and I could leave!! To go to work. Yay. And now my writing is gloriously circular. That's PLANNED, that is.

Girl's best friend...or forever?

Today, I went diamond shopping!!! Stop squealing. I'm not rethinking my hardheaded views on marriage. I'm making an investment. In the current dodgy economic climate I think that something large, sparkly and valuable would be a wise purchase. (Plus, eeeeeeeeeeeee! Sparkly!!) They don't devalue that much do they? Diamonds? I guess not. I went to Hatton Garden and it was quite the location. I only had a closer look at one, although many leapt out of shop windows at me, screaming 'Buy me! Buy me! Joan Collins wouldn't be thinking about it!!'

The shop girl said to me, when I was looking at the ring, 'Do take it outside and have a look in the sunlight'. There was a guy in a car by the kerb, specifically employed to watch over you and the v. expensive hand candy you were toting. Which is all very well, but I was completely unable to appreciate the interplay of light and diamond because I was standing in a busy street with about £10 000 worth of stones on my person. I kept thinking I'd drop them or someone would take them from me and the guard dog in the car seemed much more interested in the newspaper than me. I could have made a run for it. Though it would have been pointless, as both the rings I was looking at were way too small for my chunky fingers. So I decided against the fun option and went back in. Seriously, there are so many shops in the street. I must have looked in every window. Surrounded, of course, by happy and twittering couples looking at solitaires.

Still, I am slowly edging towards the opinion that women only marry for the ring, or you know, religious reasons, or tax so I figure that while I can afford it, and seeing as I'm not holding my breath on the marriage stakes I can buy myself a ring and cut out the middle man. (Perhaps I could also present it to myself down on one knee. Too much?) As an added bonus, it'll be something to sell in my retirement years as I have forgone getting a pension and will have lost all my money gambling. It should see me and my cat army through another year or so of gin and white gloves.

Another exciting and fun filled day of the Easter break.

Today I find myself alone, bored and inexplicably humming the theme tune to MacGyver. Also, the weird ear stuff finally started working. That was hideous, quite frankly. Have checked the label of the bottle and humming 80s TV themes is not a side effect. (Though a 'feeling of fullness' in the ear is...?) Perhaps after about 10 years of it being my default humming choice, The A Team has finally left me. No. It's really gone. Every time I try to hum the A Team, it ends up being MacGyver. Huh. I'm a bit sad about that.

Actually, I'm a bit sad generally. Must leave house. Must leave house. Must leave house...