Release the hounds!!

Good Lord! I've been so lazy that even writing this has proved to be beyond my weak and pointless self. I've not even been that busy. I have been wallowing in pre Easter holidays and of course, now I'm back here, rather than doing something useful like washing my skanky clothes, I'm now drinking copious amounts of overstewed tea and trying to account for myself here. All of this holidaying makes Disco Stoat a rather profane girl. It takes me a while to get the language back to school-safe. I must check everything I say until I can speak like a normal person. This morning it took a huge effort not to say something innappropriate to the nun whilst she was taking some sundries to the workmen. ("Nice buns, Sister!!")

It's been nice to be back. Oh yes. Even when having to deal with the boys and all that that entails. We took them out yesterday to frolic in nature. They are funny. They learnt that sap from a particular tree could be used as an antibacterial anti-septic. Then they roamed around injuring each other and then trying to apply sap to the wound. Good plan. It was nice for them to get out of London for a little while. Anything to stop them throwing some kind of Whitney Houston-esque tantrum about a nearly invisible scrape. Usually resulting from walking into something that didn't get out of their way, like a tree or a rock. We travelled in the minibus and at first I decided to be all chummy and sit in the back with the boys. Stupid really, as they spend the whole time rambling on about nothing. Usually all at the same time with no consideration for each other. Bless. It's the Christian way. On the way home, I was having none of that and sat up in front where I was afflicted by rampaging narcolepsy and crashed in and out of a comatose state for the entire trip. Unfortunately this is the time when I am most likely to talk in my sleep, because I wake up and am about to make some relevant and interesting comment about a current event. Due to my sudden awakening, this process takes a little while and just as I am marshalling myself ready to speak, I am unwillingly plunged into sleep again. Then the next time I wake up, the remark that seemed so relevant five minutes ago will suddenly seem most peculiar. But I'll still end up saying it! Thankfully, this only happened once, and towards the window so I hope no one heard.

Well. After a good night's sleep and absolutely no watching of 'Bones' (my latest secret shame...) I am feeling mostly refreshed and back to the city girl I always am. I'll put away 'County Stoat' for my next holiday! I'm working today, ish. Which seems to involve getting the boys outside as much as possible to work off all that excess energy the young always seem to have. I refer to this as 'releasing the hounds'. I shall expect you to remember that for next time. I hope you're making detailed notes for revision purposes.

When I had released the hounds... Hm. Now it sounds like some glorious euphemism for taking a crap or similar. Never mind!! ...Whilst the hounds were released, and playing a very diva-ish game of football, (lots of falling gracefully and rolling around clutching themselves and shrieking as if in agony) one of the guys who works at the church came over to join in with them. I'm always a bit suspicious of fully grown men who feel the need to partake in football with a group of boys. You could see that in his head he was nothing less than Pele himself. "I'll show these young 'uns how it's done." The boys were rather nonplussed, to be honest. They weren't sure whether to tackle him or not, after all - he was a man of God. Having twatted about with the ball for a while and clapped his own performance a few times, he actually managed to score a goal. He ran down the pitch, arms extended triumphantly, roaring with delight. Unfortunately he had also taken down the keeper, who was about nine years old and about three foot tall. Written down like that it sounds rather tragic. It was, I'm afraid to say, completely hilarious. When he felled another small boy with a rather ham-fisted tackle I had to step in and subtly move them around so all the little ones were on his team. Very sensibly, they stopped trying to tackle him at all and instead gave him a wide berth. I did manage to contain myself for the whole event and only gave in to hysterical giggling as he left, saying breezily: "Good to have a bit of a kickabout with the lads!" and one of the boys said to me in an ENORMOUS stage whisper "Miss... I think he's been drinking..."

Sadly enough, he was completely sober. Just a bit of an arse. You'll be pleased to know that I managed not to respond with that. Just about.