By definition, walking in flip-flops makes sounds very much like "flip" and "flop". The sound of flip-flops running down a dark street is more accurately transcribed as:

"Flipflopflipflopflipflopflipflopflipflopflipflopaaaaargh!!"

Luckily the pavement was clean.

My luck, however, did not last long and the snooker tonight was a disaster. "Hit the brown, hit the brown; whatever you do, don't hit the pink," advised David. Which ball did I hit? Right in one. Hey ho. I'd borrowed Tony's highly technical turbo-boosted cue for the game, and I place the blame squarely on his shoulders; after all, his cue (as any fule kno) is a left-handed cue and I ain't. Pah!

I played netball/basketball today.

There were 2 people on each team and it was very fast.

I lasted 5 minutes.

The ache lasted quite a while longer.

In other news, I have a cold and my ears are blocked up: this made my viola sound quite pleasant at string orchestra this evening, but - guessing from other people's faces - not everyone agreed. Hey ho. *I* enjoyed it!! :-)

Sitting at lunch, I was asked a challenging question by one of the girls. I pulled my 'thinking very hard' face, only to be offered some advice by Caz: "If I were you, Miss E, I wouldn't pull that face very often."

From the mouths of babes and sucklings...

Does all this cooking mean you have an honoured guest coming round?

Indeed, but more like twelve guests not one! After all, if you're going to bother cooking for one friend you might as well get them all in! It's been a lovely evening with plenty to eat and drink, lots of conversation, a musical interlude where T and J stood singing in the kitchen, and much appreciation of Fatso, cute li'l thing that he is. Even better, the last lot left at 10.30, so I've got a chance of an early night: bonus!

The mushrooms stuffed with marscapone and baileys went down well (good job as it was a bit of an experiment!) as did that old perennial, sticky toffee pudding. Today's session of food preparation has reminded me how much I like cooking for other people, which is ironic when you consider how little I enjoy cooking for myself. Maybe I should do more of this entertaining mallarky; me ma would be proud.

Today, I shall be mostly being domesticated - cleaning, cooking and the like. As I type, the sticky toffee pudding cake is rising gently in the oven, wafting ginger and nutmeg smells through the flat. Also on the culinary agenda for today is mushrooms stuffed with marscapone and baileys, a plethora of salads and some very runny brie. It's not going to be a good day for diets.

What's it all about, really, when you get down to it? Thus spake Death, and I echo his thoughts.

I lay on my back looking at the stars for a while this evening, pondering life, the universe and everything. I admit that it was only a short while because the grass was damp, but it was a while anyhow. Maybe I'm getting whimsical in my dotage, maybe I'm just tired, perhaps it's too much red wine, but summat's amiss. I'm just not sure what.

The stars didn't offer much solace either.

Oh, and I apologise in light of this:

Whiteboard? Is that allowed? Not very politically correct, is it? How do you think it makes all the white kids feel? Surely it's a dry-wipe pen board? ;)

Indeed. Sorry. I stand corrected!

Sneezing snot across your freshly-ironed shirt is a warning sign that the day might not go well. I should have heeded it.

It's been an evening filled with duty in the House, then a jaunt to the Legion for the first time in ages. I intended to have a quiet pint - it being a school night and all - and then coming home for an early night. Instead, I ended up playing snooker, as always happens when I go to the Legion whether I intend it or not: you'd think I'd know this by now. As it happens, 12 weeks off the baize has been beneficial and I potted a red, then the pink, then another red, and then the pink: a break of 14, I think you'll find. Blimey. Obviously the Good Snooker Fairy was smiling down on me tonight, despite me potting the white on the next shot! On that smug note, I'm off to bed...

I'm soooo glad to be back at work: despite aching feet, classroom worries, paperwork chaos, I've had a great morning back in front of the whiteboard. Suppose I'd better go and use my afternoon wisely...

Suit felt silly. Shoes began to hurt. Eyes are tired. First day back. Bleurgh.

Yesterday my new classroom was piled up with comfy chairs and empty cardboard boxes. Things have progressed somewhat, and now the chairs have gone, but - sadly - so has the teacher's desk that languished in the centre of the room. It has been replaced by 18 plastic chairs and 18 exam desks. This means that my pupils will have somewhere to sit and write, but I'm going to be perched on the floor surrounded by piles of paperwork and textbooks - I have no shelves or cupboards either.

Tomorrow could be interesting.

I'm not very good at goodbyes. I always have lots of things to say but never know how to say them. Many times I've stood tongue-tied in carparks or on stations, afterwards kicking myself for not saying what I wanted to.

After today's experiences, though, I reckon that I'm probably even worse at hellos. Especially polite, first-time-of-meeting hellos, where I'm supposed to be a responsible professional. I'm probably OK at the cheery, "Hi - come and have a pint!" sort of greetings, but I didn't cope well with the suit-wearing and mindless small talk required today. It'll be much better tomorrow when I'm back in the classroom, able to be myself again.

Once again, technology defeats me, and I have to resort to silly ways of doing things that other people seems to do with very little effort. Bah. At times I regret taking a Luddite stance. Anyhoo..

Here are some of my holiday photos from Sweden. How exciting.

Tidying up is always a chore, and I'm bored of it now. This morning I tidied my classroom, ready for eviction. My new classroom, however, is still full of empty boxes, oversized comfy chairs and a nasty smell of paint. Apparently an army of maintenance men will come and transform it into a classroom in the next 24 hours... a bit like Changing Rooms, but with a smaller budget, more neutral paintwork and less faux-fur. I'm waiting with baited breath, but not holding my breath entirely as I suspect that this will prove to be a silly career move.

This afternoon I ran away to the bustling metropolis of Burton-on-Trent, but am now faced with the joyous (ahem) task of tidying my flat, so I can at least find my Lesson Planner before lessons begin: now *that's* organisation! :-) If it weren't for sing-a-long-a-Ella-Fitzgerald I'd be reet depressed. As it is, the volume's turned up and Fatso looks scared, so it's all going ok...

Sleeping in a tent, especially a diddy one half-full of other people, has its disadvantages, as I commented earlier. Tom thinks so too:

The smallest people always take up the most room. Especially in tents.

I have to say that my tent companions this year have been most understanding about being squished mid-night by a rolling Mad, even though I have probably moved out of the "smallest people" category as a result of French food and wine. However, help is at hand, of which more tomorrow.

In other news, there is a big spider in the middle of my bathroom, which I am going to call Fred. Also, my bro has a new bike, and I am very excited about this fact. Maybe it'll be an excuse to whip out the leathers again.

France was great. However, I am now certain that I am the Grim Angel of The Autumn: I went to Sweden, and the weather went from glorious to pants; I went to France and the weather went from glorious to nearly pants; I went out with friends today, and the weather was decidedly not glorious, although it had been prior to my arrival. It's nice to think that I am carving out alternative career options, should I decide that teaching is all too much.

My little jaunt-ette to France resulted in many new experiences:
* I drove a left-hand drive car on the right-hand side of the road and didn't hit anything. (In fact, Charl only had to shout, "Right hand side!" once in 5 days, so that's not bad going at all)
* I voluntarily ordered a salad in a restuarant and enjoyed eating it, without looking jealously at the other diners' food. (Except maybe once or twice, in a sneaky sort of way, but that doesn't really count)
* I managed to spend 15 minutes in a CD shop and didn't buy any CDs. (Not sure whether this is a good thing or not, but it's an unusual occurence!)

We did very little of the tourist thang, apart from standing outside a couple of chateaux saying, "That's nice. Very impressive. Now, where's the bar/creperie/cave?" One evening we went to a son-et-lumiere (apologies for the lack of accents - I don't know how to find them on this keyboard!) in a touristy sort of way, and although it was a magnificent performance including thousands of people, two dogs and an array of horses, the whole storyline aspect was somewhat lost on us, unless King Francios I really *did* keep nipping off into the bushes with his bit of skirt leaving his queen sitting on the throne. Somehow I suspect not!

We spent much time, therefore, nipping up and down the Loire valley, tasting wine and searching out food. These are not particularly challenging tasks, but somehow we excelled at both. The result is a slight (ahem) tightening around the waistband and a desire to try out some of the pancake fillings here at home. Maybe it's time for another pudding party..?!

Driving through the village, on my way home from my final stab at freedom, I was stopped by three boys. One I taught last year, the other two were in my class two years ago; all sat their GCSE this summer.
"Miss, Miss, I got a B!"
"I actually passed!"
"It was your extra help that meant I passed."

It all seems worthwhile now. What a great start to term.

After a weekend squidged into a tiddly two-man tent that was half-full of someone else, I slept like a starfish last night, taking up the entire bed. This is quite an achievement for a single person in a double bed, but I managed it somehow. Smug grins all round.

Following my rant last week, I was pleased to read this.

Woman on other end of phone: Hello, Holiday Autos here. How can I help?
Me: I'm meant to be picking up a car at an airport in France tomorrow and I've not received a voucher via email.
WOOEOP: Ah. Let me take your booking reference. Right -I've got your details here. What seems to be the problem?
Me: I've had three Confirmation of Booking emails, but the e-voucher hasn't arrived.
WOOEOP: You don't need a voucher - just print out that email.
Me: [reading directly from email on computer screen] The email says "Your e-voucher will be delivered to your email address in the next few hours. The voucher will give you full details of where to collect your car and must be taken with you as proof of purchase. Please note that this email cannot be used in place of your voucher."
WOOEOP: Oh. Let me check with my manager.
[muzak and annoying woman. Mad looks disgruntled]
WOOEOP: Hello again. I've checked with my manager and he seemed to think that you don't need a voucher. To make sure,I'm going to fax your email confirmation letter to the supplier at Tours airport. Is that OK?
Me: I hope so.
WOOEOP: I know it can be confusing when you're doing this... thank you for calling.

Mad hangs up phone, shaking her head in bemusement and in anger at being patronised. Harrumph.

Having got unpacked, what I really fancy are some chips. This involves going to the chip shop in the village and exchanging notes and/or coins for a parcel of lard-laiden goodies. There is one, minute, itsy-bitsy problem: the only money I can find in my flat is foreign. I have Swedish Kronor, Danish Kronor, Italian Lira, French Francs and numerous Euros, but no squids. I could always raid my 5p jar, but I don't think the proprietor of Goodbuy Mr Chips (I kid you not - this is the chippy's real name) will appreciate twenty 5p pieces. Still, it could be worse - I could pay using the jar full of coppers!! :-)

This weekend was spent at a campsite in the Dark Peak, somewhere near Edale. The scenery was wonderful but somewhat obscured by the clouds and rain that lurked around the hilltops (and our campsite!) for most of Friday and Saturday. Luckily this gave us the perfect excuse to investigate kit shops, tea shops and pubs, rather than floundering in peat bogs: how distraught was I?!? Sunday's weather improved enough for the majority to head upwards for a yomp, whilst I looked at otters, owls and other assorted wildlife in the company of La Famile Payne. Today - on finally making it out of bed and off the campsite! - we went en masse to Hope Country Show to look at sheepies and piggies and cowies. Sadly there were no piggies, but hey - two out of three ain't bad, and I *did* get to laugh at the country stereotypes discussing sheep infections and how their precious little Georgina will fare in the newcomers' show-jumping class: the job's a guddun! Bacon sandwiches started each day, good company cheered things along and a delightful combination of good beer and port made the evenings seem less damp.

I now face another evening of unpacking/washing/re-packing before heading off to France tomorrow with Charl in an end-of-holiday type holiday. I note with concern the following part of my horoscope this week:

Mercury turns retrograde this week, and this generally coincides with a time when the wheels of commerce and administrative activity are subject to delay.

Already the fates conspire against me: a) there have been minor hitches organising a hire car, and b) public transport does not allow one to travel from Stansted to Birmingham late on a Saturday, so the madmobile will have to be abandoned in some car-park near the airport, causing financial ruin and psychological trauma for a few days. Bah!

School starts again next week (that's next week, not this week that's already started, although it feels like the week's not started yet because of bank holiday, but if you're reading this in/after work on Tuesday I guess you know what I mean. On re-reading that sentence, I'm not sure that *I* know. Hmmm.) and I've got lots to do - I'm being evicted from my classroom and will be moving to a new room next to the school's bar (they've got me sussed!) so I return to face the delights of shifting boxes, books, board pens and other teaching accoutrements (though not necessarily begining with a B, I hasten to add!). However, it means that I can actually get my act together and throw out all those things that have been gathering dust for two years. It even means that I can justify buying a whole new load of stationary - woo-hoo!! Again, from my horoscope:

The coming weeks are best for research and for throwing away the clutter accumulated from all your previous operations. Then you will have the space for all those new things to come your way.

I just hope the new things are of the food variety. B-doing!!

After loping to the common room to check on the exam results (large sighs of relief all round: the delivery of my P45 has been postponed by another year!) I've been mostly filing, in a vague attempt to re-locate the surface of my desk. The desk top is now clear, but the bin is very full; at times I wish I were more organised about paperwork.

I forgot to mention that my jaunt to Sweden was cunningly timetabled so that I missed both the AS/A2 results *and* the GCSE results, which are always nail-biting occasions here on Planet Mad. Initial scanning of UK newspapers, though, suggest that - yet again - the percentage gaining the highest grades have risen at all levels and, although I have yet to discover if my kids buck the trend or not, the media hype surrounding this issue evokes all sorts of emotions. In any other industry, a lack of year-on-year productivity increases would lead to boardroom recriminations, new processes, restructuring, redundancies... An increasing number of exam passes, however, is automatically deemed to reflect easier exam papers, a less rigorous assessment system and pupils choosing easy subjects over hard ones in search of better results.

Not only does this attitude devalue the achievements of the pupils, but it also fails to take account of many other factors. One purpose of exams is to create a selection mechanism which enables employers/universities to choose between candidates. As more students participate in post-16 education, the number of people with A-levels increases, which in turn means that the A-level, as a qualification, is becoming less valuable for selection purposes. As a results, pupils are working harder, recognising the importance of good grades in the future.

Teachers are - in many schools - facing performance-related pay, in the guise of a higher pay-scale accessible only by meeting targets and passing through "The Threshold". It is only possible to assess the achievement of targets if pupil data is available, and there is now far more information available in schools to enable this setting of targets. This has also helped with early identification of those who are underperforming, again boosting grades.

The government judges schools as a whole by publishing league tables (which is another rant in its own right, and something I shall refrain from commenting upon here and now). The key factor assessed in league tables is the outcome of public examinations, and so - unsurprisingly - more emphasis has been placed upon exam success. On behalf of their school, teachers now spend hours each year analysing past exam papers and coaching their pupils in exam technique. Is this cheating the system? I think not. After all, in a driving test there are set manouveres to complete, and learner drivers spend hours practising three-point turns and parallel parking so that they are prepared for anything that may be asked of them. It's no different to A-level pupils practising multiple-choice technique or learning definitions.

Another cause of grade inflation is a result of a politicial decision to move from norm-referenced grading to criterion-referenced grading. Originally, your grade in exams depended on the achievement of the others in the cohort: effectively, the top 8% would get an A, the next 10% a B, and so on. Now, exams are based on criterion, with your grade reflecting the number of criteria hit, making it possible for everyone to pass if they do everything right. In a sense this is fairer - you are assessed on your own performance, rather than being penalised for being part of an able cohort - but it makes grade inflation far more likely.

It doesn't help that (almost) everyone has attended a school at some point and has taken public exams; they therefore feel entitled to comment upon the education of others, regardless of changes in the assessment system and the passing of time. That this is demoralising and infuriating - for both pupils and teachers - is unsurprising. There is no easy answer, partly because some of the causes of grade inflation lie deep within the educational policies adopted by the governments of the last 20 years. Credit where credit's due, methinks - well done to all who got results this summer.

Alopogies all round for the rather abrupt end to bloggage last week: I was caught out by the lack of internet access available across the seas. Sage advice regarding my final post arrived:

If u hate packing so much stop going away!

But going away is fun, and I don't get much opportunity during term time - I guess packing is the price that I have to pay. I've been loitering in Sweden for the last week, taking advantage of the sun to indulge in some sight-seeing (cultural), bike riding (wobbly) and swimming in the sea (bracing, but including the whole 'running and jumping off the end of the pier' thang, so fun too). On arriving home this evening, I note with amusement that my weekly horoscope reads

Your luck continues to hold out, especially if you are traveling abroad, or going on an adventure anywhere. Trips to interesting and challenging places and vacations to sun-kissed beaches are all well starred. So you can safely let the gypsy in your soul out for another chance to play. But as with all good things, it isn't going to last too much longer, in fact by next week this run of blissful pleasure will be replaced by an urge to get to work, so enjoy it while you can.

And so I shall - tomorrow I'm off camping in the Peaks for the weekend, then heading off to France on Tuesday for a few days sampling the local culture, returning just in time to start work again!

This week has provided much opportunity to spend time contemplating life, work, friendship, love and other such things. Whilst there are many things that could be said at this juncture, I think it's probably wiser to keep these thoughts to myself for now, leaving you instead with this:

Hi Mad, In a bored moment at work, I found your blog, and you're just as strange as I thought you were! TTFN Dave P

That's OK then - hi Dave!! :-)

I hate packing.

My computer is v-e-e-e-e-r-r-r-r-y-y-y-y-y s-s-s-s-s-l-l-l-l-o-o-o-o-o-w-w-w-w-w-w. Why isn't broadband available everywhere?!

Drununk. Whoops.

Things about the internet that make me smile...

Number 1: I primarily write this blog for myself - I know of some people who drop in (often because they send exciting messages via that there box o'er on the right) but I have no real idea who, when or how often. Occasionally I toy with the idea of site stats but always end up choosing ignorance over knowledge, knowing that I will continue to write regardless. It does, however, give me a small buzz of excitement when I see Planet Mad listed on other people's sites. It's almost a vote of confidence, and finding two such links in recent weeks leaves me feeling fine 'n' dandy.

Number 2: A.Word.A.Day's word for today is Madeleine, and spelt correctly too. I am happy to be associated with both cake and happy memories.

Number 3: The inappropriateness of computer assumptions. Following my experiences with blogspot's adverts, my Amazon book recommendations include several Rowling/Pratchett-type books, and then - lurking at the bottom of the page - is The Atkins Diet. Bwa-ha-ha... how little do they know?! ;-)

As a result of a little bet-ette (I *knew* that "enrichened" isn't a real word) I had today's lunch bought for me by my good friend Mark. This means that I have had no occasion to look for food until now. Imagine my surprise when I discovered a packet of bacon languishing in the fridge and a tub of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough icecream nestling at the back of the freezer. I am a happy lady. Or, at least, woman.

Arrrr, arrrrr, aaaa-harrrrrrr! Avaaaaast! Yo ho ho! Any port in a storm! Aaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!

(This blog entry was brought to you in conjunction with the Pirates of the Caribbean)

Home again, to be welcomed by a (still alive!) Fatso and 230 spam emails, which were gobbled up by my spam filter, thereby avoiding a nasty case of RSI caused by clicking the delete button.

I've spent much of the last week mooching, lounging, reading, chatting and getting small children soaked in water fights; these are all good things, and I feel far more normal (ahem) than I did before. I also had to fry about 150 sausages one evening: this was not such a good thing as it was a tad warm in the kitchen tent, but they *were* very tasty, so that was OK too. Mind you, my poor little brain cell is struggling from too many late nights - and the litre of port I consumed last night probably isn't helping - so I'm off to catch up on some sleep now. More tomorrow...

Ah bless. Last weekend these kids were on my camp; this weekend they've got it on the web! What a fast-paced society we live in!! :-)

Tried to bake, but got side-tracked by the smoked salmon and almond croissants. Result: no cake, but nice pasta and pudding. Hey ho - you win some, you lose some.

I feel that a long post is necessary to fill in the gaps about the past week and a bit, if only to indulge my desire to commit thoughts to paper (in a metaphorical sense). You have no obligation to read this. It's probably not funny or interesting, but I know that I will look back through my archives at some point, read this entry and have to wipe a speck of sentiment from my eye - after all, if you can't write for yourself, then you might as well give up.

Anyhooo...

GaSCiT: The hours of planning were obviously sufficient, and Amy's list-making paid off, as it all went smoothly and the kids had a great time. It felt very strange taking a back seat and leaving it to the sub-camp leaders when it had been *my* baby for so long - I even got to spend time sitting in the sun and reading the paper, which is not a normal occurance on camp! There were a couple of incidents (dealt with efficiently and causing no major problems) but from my side the only mishap was the sudden lack of voice... one morning it was there and by the afternoon it was gone! I spent a very peaceful couple of days looking for it again!! The kids left on Tuesday and their departure was marked with a BBQ and party, which saw me drinking lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and.... I'll leave it to you to fill the gaps, because I certainly can't! I'm finding it hard to write about the whole sheebang: it's been 2 years in the planning, and suddenly it's gone - just like that. Maybe more will come back to me as time passes; maybe it's just been blanked from my memory...?!

And then on to...

Guide county camp: Arrived Wednesday evening, complete with clean clothes and a slightly raspy voice. On Thursday I had to run the evening's campfire, so I spent much of the day conserving my voice, which meant another peaceful day for all around! Friday drifted past in a haze, and we'd finally got the Guides off to the evening disco and started packing when the security people came and evacuated us from our campsite - there was a gas leak! On arriving at the evacuation point, I was grabbed by the County Big Cheese who greeted me with the ominous question, "You can sing, can't you?" I then had to entertain the massed ranks of Brownies and Guides to distract them from the sight of fire engines arriving on site. I was quite upset by this, as I would have relished the opportunity to watch the firemen (phanar, phanar!). Hey ho. Instead I got to play with microphones and PA systems, slipping up only once when I asked people to move out of the way of the (rather pleasing eye-candy) disco lads as they got their kit off the stage. Sadly I forgot to say "the stage". Luckily, the Big Cheese laughed!

So there you go - eleven days, two camps, both wildly exciting to attend and probably very dull if you weren't there. Sorry. Tomorrow, Planet Mad moves to Bedford for yet another camp. It's going to be late next Sunday when I return, so more uninteresting updates then. (Bet that's really inspired you to return, eh?!)

Home: smelly and tired. Am off to rectify both of those things, so you'll just have to wait a while for the story of the emergency evacuation and my impression of Dame Vera Lynn entertaining the troops. Ho hum.

Am home (albeit briefly) from GaSCiT, and am pleased to report that the camp went well, the kids enjoyed themselves and the political minefield that was the committee managed not to go ka-boom. All I need now is some sleep and a couple of hangover pills to help me recover! I've got a huge feeling of satisfaction and a strong desire to buy some hand-held radios/walkie-talkie type efforts.

At present, my dirty clothes are being made clean and dry again, then they're being shoved straight back into the rucksack and I'm off on another camp. I'll be back on Saturday (and will be remain here for longer than 2 hours!) so will fill in more of the gaps later!

The piles are mounting up, and I hear there's a good cream available at the doctors.

Ah. Whooops. Um. Let me start that again...

The piles of equipment to be taken on camp tomorrow are mounting up, but it's taking up every available surface in my flat. I've printed out (most of) the documents I need to take with me, but I'm wishing that my desktop was a laptop, because I'm sure to have forgotten to print important things. I've got all the general equipment sorted, but I've still not thought about packing my personal kit. I'm feeling grouchy and even hot Ribena's not helping... it may well be something to do with the impending chore of packing everything into the car:

Hmm isn't the Madmobile's boot rather small I remember you saying once .... you could be having fun there! Caz

Indeed, and I suspect that this emotional roller-coaster's going to continue for the next few days, so I'd best be leaving you...

Over and out.

Tomorrow lunchtime I head off into the sunset. Metaphorically speaking, that is. Last-minute preparations have been going well, although I have yet to fit everything into the Madmobile, so there's still plenty of potential for tears before bedtime. I've also failed to pack my own stuff yet, so there's another little challenge to while away this evening's hours.

Also

Been scannin' any int'resting bits o' anatomy? Heh Heh.

Eeek. Frightening thought! Better go and lie down in a darkened room...

Today I have been mostly eating quiche and scanning things. Am amazed at how thin my wrists look from underneath and how brown my arms look when scanned. Little things, little minds...!!

I have a confession to make. This evening I scared Fatso so much that he sat in the corner and quivered for a good 5 minutes. It wasn't until I waved a slice of freshly-cut apple seductively under his nose that he moved. All I did was walk into the kitchen and he scuttled off as quickly as his stumpy little legs would carry him. Perhaps he was doing something dodgy and didn't want to be disturbed.

Maybe I should act on advice and get him laminated... at least then he'd be wipe-clean.

Much of today has been spent shopping. As a rule, I hate shopping, except when perusing the shelves looking for books, CDs or outdoors stuff (which - I suppose - says summat about me. I'm just not sure what.) Particular hates in the shopping line include never-ending searches for clothes, shoes and food. Today's shopping fell into the "food" category, but was, however, passibly exciting. I was responsible for buying approximately 2880 biscuits, 9kgs of split lentils and 75 litres of squash, among other things. Now that's what I call shopping!!

Long time, no write. Hope you're all well and bimbling along quite happily.

Life's all been a tad hectic here on Planet Mad, full of writing, filing, printing, collating, stapling, shopping, eating, drinking, mooching and watching films. Some of these have been very tough assignments. Luckily, I've been looked after by friends, who have at least ensured that I had help with the eating and drinking bits. Result? My summer diet's not going too well, but my appreciation of Thai food is far greater. After all, there is a price you have to pay for being well-informed in the culinary sense, and if that price happens to be a larger pair of jeans - so be it... I choose wisdom over skinniness any day!! :-) Now - believe it or not - off to a BBQ. Tarra!!

The Madmobile registered an outside temperature of 34 degrees C. It's a bit nippy out.

Another day of sun; another day lodged behind a computer. Ho de hum.

Conversation about my horoscope for today:

You're frustrated when you don't know things you should have mastered long ago.

Amy: Not learnt how to tie your shoe laces yet?!

Too much wine and not enough sense. More tomorrow. Mebbe.

Have been inspired by Ash's blog, and today I shall be mostly being a pirate. R.

Chicken rogan, medium spice: check.
Peshwari nan: check.
Bottle of wine: check.
Good company: check.
Spot on.

Kind of makes up for embarrassing sunburnt cheeks.

Yesterday's highlight: lying on top of a canoe on a lake in north Staffordshire, gazing at the sky and letting the water lap gently round my hands.

Today's highlight: a small Rainbow's comment, on being told that we had to wait for 2 Guides and a parent before setting off for home, "I wouldn't bring that parent again. I'd choose another one next time." From the mouths of babes and sucklings...

I now have a lust for curry.

Ah. Whoops. Caused some confusion earlier, I suspect, as this rather succinct mail made me realise:

WTF!

Some, however, recognised it. Hang your heads in shame!

Life is butter? Have you been scouting for boys again?

Ah. Busted. Also this

I passed all me exams....we can book a holiday. Also the 2nd line is melon caulifour melon cauliflour.

Congratulations, but not in my book it's not, and as this is my blog I shall post the version I want! So ner. :-)

For them what's still confuzzed, read it out loud, to the tune of Frere Jacques. Sorry.

Life is butter, life is butter
Cauliflower, cauliflower
Life is butter melon, life is butter melon
Cauliflower, caluliflower.

After a stiflingly muggy but overcast day (spent, you will no doubt be very surprised to hear, doing GaSCiT and Guide things) it's now raining - big fat plops of rain making the world seem alive once again. It's just right for a spot of naked dancing in the moonlight, (a la Toploader, or - going back to the original - King Harvest), but fear not, I am somehow resisting the temptation to remove my clothes. Instead, I'm going to eat pizza and drink beer, which are appealling because I suspect they will involve less effort than dancing nekkid. For those who had the misfortune to witness me dancing - avec clothes, I hasten to add - will appreciate quite how much energy the average Mad Dance uses up. Apart from the time that I spend lying on the floor laughing. Or in mid-air, on the way to the floor. Or curled up in the toilets, being looked after by a bloke who's declared himself an honorary woman for the night. If only I had the opportunity of more nights like that....

Caffeine hangover. Ouch.

Have over-done the whole "cup of tea" thing again. It's been 2 pots: about 7 cups' worth. I desperately want to go to bed, but my eyes won't let me, so I'm spending the time doing administration that - yet again - should have been done months ago. Gah.

I spent a decadently lazy lunch and afternoon in Derby, sitting in the sun with Mark. We did the quick crossword, got confused by the cryptic crossword so made up all the answers, and then got carried away writing silly captions on the pictures and adverts. Mental age: 6.

This evening's excitement was Division meeting, where I had to be growed up and sensible (in general). Mental age: 23.

I got out of the meeting to find a five minute answer phone message of more things to do for GaSCiT. Mental age: 69.

I hope this new hair colour covers grey hair, coz I'm bound to be several shades whiter after this summer!

Finished. Finally. Yawn. Why do I volunteer for these things? Am off to wash the word "mug" off my forehead.

It's a bloody consipracy - the health form disk's not working and I'm going to have to type the damn thing from scratch. Fuck and bollocks. There goes my chance of a early night, ho ho.

Ladies and gentlemen, Claire Thorpe has left the building. She arrived at about 6pm, to discuss GaSCiT stuff. Now - 6 hours 30 minutes later - she's gone. My head hurts and I still have a health form to write. Bah.

Whinge alert. Sorry. Have to get this out my system somewhere/somehow. Normal thoughtless whittering will be resumed as soon as possible.

Am snowed under with GaSCiT stuff. I'm being hassled to hand in equipment lists for the closing and opening ceremonies, neither of which I've even though about, let alone planned. I'm having problems with my printer and it won't print off the stuff I've already done. Someone's sent out a final version of the timetable that isn't up-to-date or accurate. I feel like I'm making no headway with my to-do list, with things being added faster than they're taken off. I know that it'll be fine, but I have to confess that I'm bloomin' scared about the whole shee-bang at the moment - the thought of being in charge of 140 kids, none of whom have camped before, is a tad daunting. The worry is so great it put me off my snooker last night, and Tony's most concerned that I'm ill because I even refused alcohol... YAAAARRGGGHHHHH.

Am going to spend the next couple of hours collating everything that I've done so far. If I drown in a sea of paper then so long, and thanks for all the fish.

We're into a motte-and-bailey castle phase at the moment. The height of the motte is, admittedly, restricted by the plastic shelf thing in the cage, but the addition of cotton-wool-type bedding is definitely something the Normans would have used, had they access to pet shops.

I've finally made it out of bed. Not, you understand, that I've been entirely asleep until now - in fact, I first woke at 9 when the sexy postman delivered this month's copy of Trail magazine. I lay in bed and read it from cover to cover, but then felt a tad sleepy again so had another nap. I then re-woke, read all of the Terry Pratchett book I randomly selected last night,* and then snoozed again. See - quite a morning of action... for my eyes, at least.

In other news today, Fatso's latest game is creating ancient earthworks and burial mounds from his bedding. Today we have a long ridge down the centre of his cage, and a fine veneer of sawdust covering a 1 metre radius. I like to think that it's because he's an educated chappy trying to re-enact historic moments. I just worry about the day when he decides to progress from the architecture of the Iron Age to the major constructions of the Roman Empire. After all, there's not exactly much room for him to build an aquaduct or even a humble hypocaust. The sooner BT get the telephone exchange here enabled for broadband the better - I've got to get the HamCam up and running!

* random selection involves turning out all of the lights, staggering across to the shelf containing the aforementioned books, running my hands along the spines to check I'm not inadvertently causing reading disappointment by choosing from the Harry Potter books nestling on the same shelf. I then grab one at random, usually pulling 4 other books down on top of me at the same time, and - because this is all happening in total darkness - risk long-term damage to my bare feet in the process. It adds to the excitment, anyway.

Once more, my email to a friend has been rejected by her company's spam filter. All I did was sign it "love mad xxx", as I always do. You'd think I'd learn. Seemingly not...

It's been a bizarre evening. It started quite, quite innocently, but I ended up in the Legion at midnight slow-dancing with Tony. Hmmm. Tony is my snooker partner: he's lovely and funny, but he's also in his late 50s, a chain smoking divorcee who was wearing a particularly dodgy tie tonight. Luckily it wasn't proper slow-dancing, given that I was laughing fit to burst and I don't think I'd be able to slow-dance seriously if you paid me, but it was enough to entertain the hoards crammed into the Legion. I was kisssed by 3 different blokes on my way out... maybe I'm getting a reputation. If only it were built on true foundations... chances of a snog (with someone decent!) never looked more remote. Hey ho. Off to bed now to contemplate life...

New hair, new colour. A permanent momento of the hair colour is currently developing on the bathroom walls, where the manky, inherited, wipe-clean, grim, shiny, green paint* is not actually wipe clean when it comes to hair dye. At least the bright red spots add some character, and neatly match the streak along the bottom of the curtain. Whoops.

* Can you tell I don't like it?!

Another evening of culcha has drifted passed here on Planet Mad. Actually, "drifted" may be the wrong word - "roared, guffawed and cried" may be far more accurate. The discovery, earlier this week, of my thigh muscles has now been matched by the exciting realisation that I once again have stomach muscles. At least, I *must* have stomach muscles, because they're bloody aching from laughing so much. And what caused such hilarity? Why, I'll tell you - the National Theatre's production of Noises Off as seen at the Birmingham Rep. If you get the chance, go and see it. Sod it, even if you have to bunk off work and blag your way in to the theatre, go and see it. Go on - what are you waiting for? Stop reading this rubbish - GO.

Today's paperwork frenzy segued neatly into this evening's Guide district meeting; both were productive but have added many more items to my To Do list, which now includes entries such as "first aid course" "inspection guidance" and (perhaps more bizarrely) "find a launderette in Cannock". In an attempt to avoid confusion in this over-stretched little braincell of mine, I created an hour-by-hour guide to the next three weeks which is now blu-tacked in all its glory to the wall: I've discovered many double-bookings but also reclaimed some free time. Sadly, it's probably not at a time when anyone else is free, but if anyone *is* at a loose end on Sunday and fancies doing something exciting then let me know!

Today I shall be mostly doing paperwork for GaSCiT. The prospect fills me with joy and pleasure (ahem), as does the thought of having to trawl through the 30 un-read emails that arrived in my inbox this weekend. It's a thrilling one today - I almost want to be back in the classroom!! :-)

Firstly, I'd like to offer a hearty welcome to my thigh muscles, which have been sadly absent for some time but now make a happy return to Planet Mad, accompanied by an improvement in general fitness and some slightly dodgy tan lines (of which, more, possibly, later, if I can be bothered, and don't fall asleep dribbling into the keyboard first)

Supervising this weekend's Duke of Edinbugh expedition was very similar to supervising any other expedition in the history of expeditions - a bit of sun, a lot of rain, much waiting around for groups who "mislaid" the correct path, and plenty of kids failing to follow advice, such as packing their kit in plastic bags. Hence, Mad spends much of her Monday night watching girls dry their sleeping bags under the hand-drier in the ladies' toilet, knowing perfectly well that she has a warm, dry and comfy sleeping bag waiting in her tent. Mua-ha-ha! I was, however, lucky enough to be located in a most lovely campsite at the foot of Gordale Scar (near Malham in the Yorkshire Dales, for them wot knows their geography!) and was able to lie in bed looking out on countless geographical formations, which was far more exciting than my usual lying-in-bed view! I did a fair bit of walking too, yomping out over hill and dale, which gave me a perfect opportunity to think, day-dream and otherwise get my brain-cell in order, which may be dangerous. I'll keep you updated. Hmm. Actually, I might not - some things should be kept sacrosanct. That'll keep you guessing...

I spent much of this afternoon doing a credible impression of a nagging old bag in an attempt to get the kids sorted, packed and ready for the end of term. This evening, however, has sailed by in a whirl of drinks, food, speeches, presents and discussion disguised as general social chit-chat. There were numerous moments of hilarity, not least the description of this organ as the bastion of internetness and the expression on some boys' faces as I failed to become girlie-scared of a frog that they put on my shoulder.

Slightly less hilarious, though, is the fact that I leave for D of E in under 9 hours' time, and I still haven't packed. Ah. Will not be online for a few days; until Tuesday, over and out....

[P.S. Tom J - the gubbins you wanted is here]

Am slightly squinty-eyed and weary this morning, but have made it so far without serious mishap. Unfortunately, tonight sees the end-of-term dinner and party, so it's another "posh frock, late night" affair... no early night for me! Chances of a mid-afternoon snooze are looking slender too - I've still got to pack for D of E before tonight's out. Sometimes I long for a normal job!

Have laughed so much this evening my head hurts. It's been the leavers' BBQ for the House, and it's all been very cool - a few burgers, a few more beers and lots of memories, smiles and tears.

Cheers, Si, for the advice about which version of blogger to use - am off to try it now (blogging whilst drunk - dontcha love it?! At least I'm not flexing my plastic in the direction of Amazon!)

New blogger, new problems. How do I get out of the LoFi version? I can do it at work but not here at home. If only I weren't a luddite...

Things from last night that made me chortle, giggle or otherwise smirk...

* Parking a minibus (with 'Repton School' emblazened down its side) in a carpark opposite two of Birmingham's most popular gay bars.

* One of our most studious pupils saying to me, "Are you actually a proper teacher?" On replying in the affirmative, she said, "Oh well - I just wasn't sure because of the whole pints and jeans thing!" Mua-ha-ha - my disguise is working!

There were other things too, but I can't remember them. I have, however, just taught a magnificent end-of-term lesson about Critical Path Analysis (which is like glorified flow charts, for those lucky enough not to have encountered them before!). I got the kids to work in pairs to plan their preparations for a night out on the lash and to calculate at what time they should start getting ready if the taxi leaves at 8.00pm. I haven't laughed so much in ages!

Am off to be cultured this evening. Well, semi-cultured - we're taking the upper sixth to watch Miss Saigon in Brum, so am freshly scrubbed up (in a dress, no less!) and trying to look smart... have even had to abandon the beloved docs in favour of heels :-) Enjoy yourselves...

Woke this morning with a manky cold. I know exactly who's to blame. I'm sending Harry Potter style curses and jinxes in his direction as I type. Bleurgh!

Paj's brain obviously helped with the music round, as I managed to con them into a false sense of security with the first couple of tunes (they all sang along - bless!) but then I did the nasty deed and threw in some really familiar but obscure choons to catch 'em all out - Royksopp left them all going, "I know this but I don't know who it's by!" The job's a good 'un!

Am trying to write a music round for this evening's junior pub quiz, but am struggling to find music in my CD collection that they a) might have heard of, and b) won't be rude about. I therefore appreciate this, which arrived in relation to my previous post...

Here, use mine: I'm not using it! --paj

Ta muchly!

My brain cell hurts.

You can tell the deadline for reports is approaching fast because of the number of teachers gathered in/near the staff room at 9.00pm on a Monday evening, frantically trying to find the list of pupils in need of duplicate reports and chuntering that the school's database is not up-to-date. This time, however, I have spurned technology, and instead I've written my reports using my bestest handwriting, with the tip of my tongue stuck out the corner of my mouth to aid concentration. This has worked very well except now I have an aching arm and a large dent in my finger. Bah.

Someone (not sure who, but obviously someone with taste!) writes:

Yes you should be *very* sorry for that one

referring, I think, to my own inimitable style of song-writing! :-)

This morning's bloggage comes with apologies to The Mamas and The Papas:

Monday, Monday, so good to me
Monday mornin', it was all I hoped it would be
On Monday mornin', kids were yawning, just like me
Thank goodness this term ends on Fri-dee!!

Burger overload. Whoops.

Have been a tad busy this weekend, both getting out-and-about and staying in. I've been doing a bit of reading - 766 pages in fact, which nicely occupied my Sunday afternoon. Off for another BBQ now.

Today's good things...
...the sun, a jacket potato with prawn mayo, canoeing with Guides, a party.

Things to look forward to this weekend...
...seeing friends, a curry, a BBQ, the arrival of the next Harry Potter book.

Sadly this weekend will also play host to report writing, which is a bit of a blow, but as I finish for the summer in 7 days' time (mua-ha-ha!!) I couldn't really care less!!

(Apologies are offered to those who do not start their holiday in the next week, but do not fret - I'm back in work in... oh... a couple of months' time! Bdoing!!)

This evening has been the usual cornucopia of events, ranging from "posh frock and champagne" to "pint in the pub", meandering via "TV with the juniors" and "reassuring a parent in teacher-on-duty-stylee": Repton in a microcosm. Had hoped to speak to a couple of people tonight, but - also typical for an evening in Repton - there just wasn't the time or opportunity. Maybe tomorrow?

Trying to get my head round that simultaneously equal ops and old fashioned sexist notion. That child should go far. - Si

Yup - he's quite typical of my pupils: vaguely aware but slightly confused! (The state of the education system today - I blame the teacher myself!)

He lives!!!

You might be somewhat pink (15th of June) - try being totally pink! Love Pinky

Welcome back, old bean!

The fun and games of exam marking continues apace, with the following classics being gently revealed to the sunlight:

"The company could then do some interviews with the people they are interested in. How beautiful these people are is very important as they have to work on flights as cabin crew."

"The gender [of the applicants] is not of big importance except for the pilot. I would recommend him to be a man because if the woman gets pregnant thousands of pounds will be lost as she gets a long holiday."

We've got a little explaining to do next lesson, methinks!

Am marking A-block exams to the accompaniment of Shirley Bassey, the goddess of big hair and big voices. The exam scripts are full of the subtleties which are an intrinsic part being a 14 or 15 year old: "if people come for interview and you don't like them you just say goodbye; you can dismiss them on their spelling and gramma (sic); you can interview them to check their punctuation" (although I think he meant "punctuality"!). It's a good job that I have such classic choons playing in the background to keep me sane. Unfortunately I'm also singing along (in typical Mad style, which is neither shy nor retiring by any stretch of the imagination) so poor Fatso is cowering in the corner with his paws over his ears. Just be thankful that this isn't an audio-blog!! :-)

Which brings me neatly to my next comment

Mad, are you in your prime? Miss Jean Broady certainly is!

It depends how one defines prime, I suspect; some of my pupils would assert that I am well past it.

Sage advice arrives:

add more milk then

Would that I were so blessed with common sense.

It's raining and my tea is too hot to drink.

Another evening has drifted past, trailing a haze of fine wine and good food behind it. Although not on the same scale as last week's pudding party, tonight's gathering has also been food-focused: this time featuring a collation of starters and nibbles. I am, therefore, feeling a tad full but very relaxed; in the laid-back stakes I'd be verging on the horizontal.

This suggestion arrived with reference (I think!) to my earlier post,

Do you not have any brothers or sisters to oblige?

Mua-ha-ha! You've obviously not met my brother!!

My eyes are crying even though my heart is smiling and I potted a beautiful blue in tonight's snooker match. Have got to wander the House now doing lock-up and will look like a real freak. Gah!

Hurrah!

Mad I'll do your dirty work although you may have to wait a while, anyhow whats wrong with you having your own kids, your perfect with kids, just on your level...

No. No. No. And again, No. There will be no ickle K's for you to Auntie. Find someone else to do your dirty work!

That's me told, then!

You know in children's paintings the ground is a green stripe along the bottom of the page, while the sky is a blue stripe at the top of the page? Well, what's the white gap in between? Easy - that's space.

Logic, child style. Am considering regressing: life would be a lot simpler.

Things I realised this weekend:

1. I am somewhat pink. Actually, that's an understatement: I am BLOOMIN' PINK. I'm continuously rubbing moisturiser into my shoulders/arms, which is making typing sticky and somewhat difficult, but that's the price you have to pay if you forget to pack suncream when you go away for a sunny weekend. Hey ho.

2. I am getting old. Once upon a time, I'd turn up to Scout camp with a four-pack/eight-pack/twelve-pack of bitter (depending whether I was just visiting for an hour or actually stopping over night). When I started going to SSAGO rallies I met the charming K, who introduced me to the delights of port drank stright from the bottle. Now, however, the beverage of choice is wine, which suggests that I'm far too growed up for my own good. Better get that sorted before this summer's round of residential events gets underway! (Mind you, I'm not old yet enough to keep a corkscrew in the car, so it's a good job that there were other, even more mature people on camp too!)

3. I'm quite fond of children. I know that this should be a bit obvious, being a teacher and Guide leader and all, but at times this weekend I felt vaguely clucky and maternal. Out of this weekend's revelations, this is possibly the most scary. After all, I will go brown very quickly (provided I keep up the applications of gunk-stuff) and can easily swap back from wine to bitter, but this whole kid mallarky is tad too close for comfort. So here's a plea for any of you couples out there: please have children quickly so I can satisfy my cluckiness being Auntie Mad, otherwise my mother's gonna be very shocked when I turn up for Christmas wearing much bigger clothes than usual.

Challenge of the day: packing 4 season sleeping bag into stuff sack and deciding whether to wear trousers or shorts. Am off to a service weekend on a campsite up near Manchester, the sun is shining, the birds are singing and it's all looking kinda peachy.