Summer Swaps

Alarm clock and the shrill obtrusion of 06:40 for body clock and the beauty of deep slumber.

Flat in south west England for yurt in south west France. 

Children for adults. 

Exercise books for trashy magazines and Ordinary Thunderstorms. 

Arranging music for band for arranging pretty flowers in pretty vases.

Sainsbury’s £3 meal deal/left overs/school dinner for the deliciousness of homemade lunches. (I’ll be all domesticated and send The Boyfriend off with a packed lunch more than once a week!)

Pretending that running around in a flurry all day and only having one cake at break will keep me fit and healthy, for doing proper pulse raising exercise and regulating my cake intake. (Exercise bit definitely, cake bit probably. Possibly. Maybe.)

Working in the evening for actually having time to DO stuff! (This is going to stop my flow but I need to give you an example: yesterday after school, I came home and arranged my end of year present haul on the table for The Boyfriend’s viewing pleasure (he is SO patient); went to B&Q and bought compost and a plant pot; went to Sainbury’s to pick up food goodies for dinner; drove home; potted a couple of plants and arranged my gladioli in a vase; cooked dinner (this is a rarity) in a clean and tidy kitchen (also a rarity) to the mellow sounds of Classic FM, and then chilled out. Normally, I mark!)

Keeping the classroom in order, for tidying and cleaning the flat on a regular basis. (Hopefully, there’ll be no need for army mode and epic blitzes for the next six weeks!)

Producing lesson resources for creating my partner teacher's wedding present. (Not long to go!)

Assessing kids to within an inch of their lives for assessing the state of the wine rack.

Getting to bed to secure the 8 and a half hours for no need to clock watch.

I LOVE SUMMER!

Ode to the End of Term

Farewell reports,
Adios APP-dom,

Two hours off? On a school night?

Behold! A taste of freedom!

Just two weeks to go,

Until we jet off for France,

I’m so excited,

I might wet my pants!

 

JOY

There are lots of different types of joy.

One of my kids experienced joy last week when he overcame all barriers and successfully made Jubilee bunting in Maths. Elation exuded from him when he finally worked the protractor. He described it as “sickage”. I experienced joy because it was level five maths in disguise!

I experienced great joy when we survived our recent residential and managed to return each child to their parents with all their limbs intact and my sanity was left undamaged. 

Of course there’s also sarcastic joy. But today you’re lucky, I’m not about to pour out my emotions on the joy of writing thirty reports this week. 

Every teacher experiences complete and utter joy in a wave of relief and exuberance at this time of year, when half term has finally arrived and we’re about to enter the final straight before the summer holiday. 

But there is also proper joy. The sort of joy that you get in hymns about angels and stuff. The ‘hark the herald angels sing’ type of joy. Delight, mirth and rejoicing – that sort of joy. The ‘hope you’ve got a strong stomach because this has the potential to be a cheese fest’ sort of joy.

At school, we’ve had a very hectic term and we’ve got an impending visit from The Big O, so as a distraction technique, one evening when I was feeling rattled, I decided to make a list of the proper joy in my life. Turns out, I’ve recently experienced and will be experiencing some truly joyous times. Here’s the list:

1) My best buddy is getting married in August to a lovely, lovely man.  This is defo going to be tres joyous, but the best bit is that she has asked me – ME – to do the Bible reading at the wedding. Waaahhh! I nearly shed a tear in the staffroom when she asked me. It was emotional! I am so lucky that when I moved to the West Country I landed in a school with so many lovely people who have become fab friends, particularly my partner teacher, who is amazeballs. I’m going to read that reading better than anything I’ve ever read ever in my life. Ever. (It’s going to be even better than when I narrated the Nativity in Year 4 with Jaimie Hodgkinson, and that was seriously good.)

2) Times are a changing at the cricket club.  Our good friends Mike and Jen have given birth (well, Jen did) to not one, but two bundles of joy, Ellie and Wilf, and they are SO tiny and SO cute and smell delightfully of baby.  I had cuddles last weekend and experienced actual awe and wonder. No doubt the cricket club will become their second home so lots more cuddle opps to come!

3) Yesterday, Alison, one of my housemates from Nottingham, was joined in holy matrimony to John, her childhood sweetheart. They were married in the most beautiful and picturesque church in a gorgeous little village nestled in the rolling hills of the Peak District. Lush! Joy at its best. Loved it.

4) Maxing out on bunting and cake in a right royal knees up for the Jubilee doesn’t quite match the elation brought with new life or the delight of a friend’s nuptials, but our Jubilee tea party is going to be pretty friggin joyous too. Even the grey and drizzle of the weather won’t dampen the jubilation of raising a glass of bubbly to her Maj! Bring on the pomp and circumstance!

So basically there’s lots of joy to revel in right now. And revel in it I will!

No air

Breathe…

Drive, arrive, unload, print, wait, photocopy, sort, discuss, deliberate, adjust, annotate, organise, file, delegate, de-clutter, welcome, act, remind, recap, monitor, remind, remind, remind, designate, register, test, teach, perform, inspire, assess, remind, instruct, warn, support, assess, warn, listen, teach, assess, dismiss, evaluate, photocopy, sort, act like a headless chicken, welcome, placate, teach, assess, remind, reprimand, instruct, talk to a brick wall, remind, encourage, listen, discover, teach, overheat, assess, dismiss, listen, weigh up, deny, instruct, converse, forget, prioritise, advise, print, seek advice, hash out, adjust, re-print, check, photocopy, collate, staple, despair, distribute, cross off, gobble, email, seek advice, plan, amend, update, mark, mark, mark, mark, mark, mark, mark, etc., check, listen, advise, seek advice, pack, leave, drive, arrive, choose, pay, ache, drive, arrive, chill, mark, mark, mark, mark, mark, mark, mark etc.

Stop.

Breathe.

Remember!

Drink. 

(Wine.)

(White.)

Backtoearthwithabump Syndrome

I am currently suffering from a terrible bout of Backtoearthwithabump Syndrome. 

The Boyfriend and I went to Snowdonia for a few days this week and it was a-MA-zing. Like, seriously ACE. We felt the wind sweep through our ruffled hair and the sun beat down on our faces (albeit very briefly); we filled our lungs with fresh mountain air; we paused to stand awe inspired (and for him to catch his breath and me to stop my lungs burning) and looked down over rippling lakes nestled in the ragged Welsh mountains; we powered up the mountain side (‘powered’ is perhaps a little strong) over boulders and rocks, through the mist, fog and snow and felt victorious conquering the highest peak; we ate our lunch huddled by a dry stone wall, which sheltered us from the chill of the blustery wind and we looked out onto the wilderness sprawled out below us.  We were totally carefree, even when we realised we’d misread the map and were in the wrong valley (fail!) We scrambled over crags and we listened to the rushing of the wild rivers and waterfalls in the valleys; we walked for hours without seeing anyone else and we felt like explorers... No hang on - we were explorers!  We were young and wild and free!  The world (or at least that little corner of North Wales) was our oyster! <Insert cheesy phrase about youthful freedom> We sipped on gin and tonic at the end of a long day, and relaxed in soft, leather chairs in an olde worlde library with a secret door, which smelt of leather bound books and rich mahogany… We swam in a luxury pool (it had mood lighting and everything) and ate delicious food off a slate plate.

So, having had such a lush few days, I probably shouldn’t really complain (five whole days in a row without any work is an exceedingly rare treat) but get your violins out and allow me a moment to despair…

Despair: Today, all I have done is sit on the sofa and stare at my laptop screen. Boo! I planned lessons for next week and took a horrible amount of time organising various rotas for the next two terms. Five hours of my life which I ain’t getting back! My to-do list is considerably epic and may as well be stapled to my hand until the summer holiday… Backtoearthwithafrigginmassivebump Syndrome! 

But I know, I know, I shouldn’t grumble and whinge... If we had trips away all the time then we wouldn’t appreciate them. I knooooow.  When we were little, Grandma and Grandad Leek used to say that if we didn’t go home after a trip to see them then we wouldn’t be able to visit again, which is very true... So, I guess I’ve just got to suck it up and get on with normality. Onwards and upwards and all that… 

...Grr...

…Get me back on that mountain!

The Wonder of the Weekend

Last weekend, I wrote a blog but I didn’t post it because it was (mostly) one big fat moan fest.

I moaned about having worked the entirety of the previous weekend and the depressing realisation that last weekend was going to be exactly the same because of the delights of marking thirty literacy skills books; thirty maths books; thirty big write books; maths planning; literacy planning; guided reading planning; preparation for presenting some important stuff at some important meeting and the epic pile of unorganised crap, which I’d left to fester for weeks because sorting it all out hadn’t reached the top of my priority list.

I moaned about the fact that even though I’m no longer an NQT and I have a new found efficiency (sort of) and proficiency (sort of) at my job, sometimes the to-do list is still so monumental that even if I work my ass off for the entire weekend with super-womanly efficacy, I’m still not adept enough to get an adequate amount done. Pantaloons!

(I did also mention why I do actually love my job and couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Apart from being a housewife. Or professional card maker. Or florist).

HOWEVER, next week is Science Week. Science Week itself doesn’t fill me with much joy (I am dreading the inevitable failure of trying to get thirty four 5 – 11 year olds to make functioning balloon powered contraptions out of egg boxes), but it has a superbly positive effect on my planning situation for this weekend.

As the timetable is maxed out with science stuff, instead of having to do a week’s worth of literacy planning, maths planning and guided reading planning alongside my marking over the next two days, I only have to sort out four literacy lessons, which means that there is potential for some semblance of weekend. Alleluia!

To celebrate, our year group team ate a whole packet of plastic Norwegian cheese after school and a LOT of Belgian chocolate, which we keep in our cupboards for times of emergency/celebration. Then, we blu tacked some stuff to our classroom walls to make them look nice and had a bit of a lazy tidy up instead of stressing out over piles of books.

Tomorrow I’ll work, and I’ll probs end up doing some more on Sunday morning too (marking backlog) but I will definitely grant myself Sunday afternoon, free myself from the shackles of my desk and watch Saints-Scarlets and England-France guilt free. Being so busy so much of the time definitely makes me more grateful for time off. 

So, hoorah for Science Week and hoorah for small mercies!

Breakfast, betting and Bridesmaids

On Christmas Day, Christopher wrapped himself up in wrapping paper and lay down on the hall floor under the tree. This was a highly commended entry to the inventive wrapping competition and a unique way of saying that his Christmas present to me was a day out with him. 

Today was my present day! This is what we did:

Stage One: Super Sausage Cafe

Every time we drive to the rugby, we go past the Super Sausage Cafe and wonder what it’s like behind its dark brown exterior. There’s permanently a convoy of lorries in the car park so I’ve always assumed a band of truckers live inside. However, I’ve also heard that it serves up quality breakfasts. It ranks highly in a Google search so we assumed it has a good rep.* SO, we decided to try it.

We’ll admit, when we drove into the car park and saw the trucks, we got scared. We had visions of walking in, the diners pausing mid mouthful and turning to stare at the outsiders standing in the doorway, us making a swift exit and finding refuge in the familiarity of ‘Tea and Two Sugars’. But after a nervous wobble in the car, we plucked up the courage to go for it, and boy were we pleased that we did.

Inside, it absolutely is your stereotypical greasy spoon. (There’s definitely no acute accent on the e of this cafe.) There’s an American style diner menu on the wall, a pile of free copies of ‘Truckstop News’ next to the counter, and those plastic chairs that are screwed into the floor. There were only a couple of actual truckers and when they ignored our entry in favour of keeping their eyes fixed on their fry up, we decided to stay.

Forty a day Brenda served us with a smile. Chris ordered ‘The Fully Monty’, and as you can imagine, his plate was piled high with his weekly intake of calories. He began to devour it with ease. He only started to struggle near the end when he ran out of beans for moisture, and 'lubricant' (their word) aka tea. He started getting food sweats and accidentally wiped some bean juice onto his forehead so it looked like he was sweating the beans back out. He loved it.

I opted for ‘The Transit’ which comprised of one sausage, one bacon, one egg, beans and fried bread, except that I swapped the fried bread for toast.  It was the most amazing breakfast I have EVER had. Friggin delicious. It was very filling but not so large as to leave me feeling like I’d overdone it, and the toast option was definitely a better choice than fried bread (can’t stand that residue layer of fat which is left on the roof of your mouth after a grease fest fry up).

As we left, Christopher could feel his arteries clogging up but we both felt very satisfied and pleased with our bravery.

Stage Two: Rummikub Club 

Christopher has a weekly volunteering commitment to go to a local nursing home and play Rummikub with the residents. It’s only an hour of his time per week, but feeling concern for the impending inevitable crash after consuming so much food, on the way back from breakfast he stopped off at Sainsbury’s and bought a 473ml can of Red Bull to down before leaving. He said it was imperative for the increased mental exertion, concentration and vigilance needed for Rummikub Club. On the can it says that it also stimulates metabolism, which I think was probably the most beneficial effect after the morning’s excess. 

He knocked it back, feeling nervous for consuming 600% of his recommended daily allowance of vitamin B6. We checked the medical effects of this on Google, and B6 is needed for the conversion of glycogen to glucose – good – but overdosing can result in numbness of the arms – bad.

Anyway, he seemed alright. Mum was just pleased that he didn’t drink it to induce hyperactivity before we went to the casino.

Stage Three: Gala Casino

When Chris got back from the old people's home, we went to the casino.

We started with £10 and decided that we’d bet it until we were in profit and then keep the original £10 and place further bets with our winnings only. We played Roulette because it involves no skill whatsoever. We fluctuated between £8 and £11 for a bit but then suffered a losing streak. Our lowest point was £3.30 it felt BAD. A novice, Chris has thus far only enjoyed lucrative trips to the casino (beginner’s luck) and so in a losing position he was despairing slightly. We could hear mum’s voice in our heads: “that’s how casinos stay open you know – because people lose.” 

HOWEVER, we developed a highly successful strategy for slowly building back our money and we managed to build up to our highest point of £14 and it felt GOOD! Chris said he was buzzing out of his face. Our competitive spirit was definitely fuelled. So we then decided to ‘play big’ (£2 a spin) but were invariably less successful with this tactic. Once we’d lost our £4 profit, clawed it back and lost it again a few times, we decided to stop. 

But then we broke the rules and put all of our original £10 on black. If we lost we’d had such a good night that it’d definitely be worth £10, especially considering we’d had complimentary drinks.

It was red.

Stage Four: Bridesmaids

We went to Blockbuster on the way home, rented Bridesmaids for free (two week free trial when you join) and got ripped off with a £5.35 tub of Ben and Jerry’s.

The ice cream was lush, the movie was ace and it was an excellent end to an excellent day.

Thank you, Christopher! x

* Had we looked it up on Google today rather than yesterday, we would have found today’s Chronicle and Echo article about the cafe being fined £15,000 for neglecting to train its staff in any form of health and safety, resulting in an employee burning her hand in a deep fat fryer. Nice!