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.