Happiness is discovering a bag on the table containing not one, not two, but three cadbury's cream eggs. Mmmm....

With reference to this and this, I assume:

Naked Tea! Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells (via Ormskirk)

Oh no, my dear. It normally wore a cup.

If I turn left out of the drive rather than right, I walk to school along a path through playing fields. After four weeks of loving care and attention, without hoardes of footballers and rugby players yomping across it, the grass is thick and bright green. It takes a lot of willpower not to shed my shoes and walk across it barefoot. I'm obviously getting old: the young me wouldn't have hesitated.

Today:
8.30am - chapel
9.00am - assembly
9.30am - teaching
1.00pm - lunch
2.00pm - teaching
4.00pm - get back to flat; get changed; mark 2 pieces of GCSE coursework
5.40pm - serve dinner to the girls
6.15pm - string orchestra rehearsal
7.30pm - intend to do more marking but get sidetracked by a colleague's offer of a pint
8.00pm - arrive in the Legion
9.30pm - get back to flat; consider marking; phone a few people instead
10.05pm - check email and get sidetracked by bloggage; seriously contemplate abandoning marking

Start as you mean to go on, I say!

It's a beautiful day out there: sunny; warm; birds singing; flowers blooming. It's probably the nicest day I've seen in... oooh... weeks. Typical, then, that it's the first day of term. Pah!

Sometimes you find things out on the internetweb mallarky that make you sit up and think, that jolt you from your usual apathy. Two of these sites from today's surfing: Riverbend's tales of life in Baghdad and Kid of Speed's pictures from Chernobyl. Far better than planning lessons.

ah yes, I miss that man bringing me tea in bed too! w

That'll be Miss H, reflecting on the usefulness of lodgers. The only problem arises when they decide to move on and take the teapot with them, not to mention half of the other kitchen equipment! Pah! ;-)

Did you pay the 6 quid, or somebody else?

I did, I'm afraid. Worth every penny though.

School starting on Sunday is a well silly idea. Have these people not heard of weekends?

Nope, sadly not. By 9pm tomorrow the sproglets should all be here, excited and ready to go. Me: I'll be sitting in a heap in the corner, wibbling.

I'm worried that you may have developed a tea addiction.

There's no "may" about it: it's a certainty. With extra milk if there's an option, unless it's poncy tea, in which case nude is preferable. I didn't drink tea at all ever, whatever the circumstances, until about 4 years ago, when I had someone who would bring me tea in bed when he disappeared off to work. Since then, I can't keep off the stuff. Can't say it's done me much harm, all things considered.

First class? Isn't that a bit posh for a public school teacher?

Nah - a mere six squid supplement and Robert's your mother's brother: wide aisles, big seats, free tea - bdoing!

Things wot I did in London wot pleased me:

* Had a picnic lunch by the Thames in Hammersmith, basking in the sunlight like a whale. If only the weather had been like that in Belgium!
* Mooched through Leicester Square, reminiscing about drinking my way round London with Charl
* Round the Horne Revisited, which was just grand.
* Went to the Science Museum, played with lots of interactive displays, gawped at everything from planes to washing machines, and let my inner brat run riot
* Staring in wonderment at the pictures in the Earth From The Air exhibition at the Natural History museum. If you're in London and you've not been, go. It's as simple as that.
* Lounged in first class on the train back - hurrah for Weekend First!

Am off to London tonight, to go to the theatre with Mark. We're off to see Round The Horne Revisited somewhere near Leicester Square, which fills me with great pleasure as I'm quite fond of Round The Horne, in an understated sort of way. This is my final bid for freedom before school starts again on Sunday; I suppose I'd better take some planning to do on the train. Hey ho!

Mad's jaunt to Belgium, in numbers:
95 Scouts; 28 leaders; 6 hours in a coach each way; 0 degrees celcius every night; hundreds of stars; 2 days in Brussels; countless cups of tea; at least 10 Scouts who found my Irish accent so convincing they couldn't believe I was from near Birmingham; at least 20 who finished the trip with some hint of Irish in their speech; 5 or so patrols who were helped with their washing-up by the Irish Leprechaun Scritchers; lots of chocolate, beer n waffles.
Number of hours sleep per night: not enough.
Number of laughs, giggles and moments of general merriment: too many to count!

I'm looking forward to returning to school for a rest!

If you haven't already guessed by the smell, I'm off. Tarra!

I'm becoming nocturnal. This worries me because a) I still haven't packed anything and therefore have to get up early tomorrow to get it all done; and b) I have to go to the land of Beer and Chocolate tomorrow, and I'd hate to sleep through it all. And don't be deceived by the time-stamp on this blog entry: blogger's not worked out BST yet, and it's actually an hour later than it appears to be, if that makes sense.

Washing machines. Pah! I'm just not cut out for domesticity.

Think of the chocolate.

I do, frequently. And I think of the beer too. Mmmmm.... :-) As practice and to build up stamina, I've eaten nothing but chocolate for the last 24 hours. I feel great! (although I suspect that's the sugar rush talking!)

Although jaunts away are nice, I always like coming home. The days after the return, though, are inevitably filled with lounging, laundry, post, email and the frantic buying of food because it's all gone out of date. Slothful - yes; interesting - nope. I ought to be packing right now (off to Belgium tomorrow) but I just can't face it. Pish!

The conversations you have with your brother when it's late-ish on a Sunday evening

Mad: you've not got an old computer you'd like to give me?! ;-)
Edd: :O
Mad: LOL
Edd: no unfortunately
Mad: pah
Mad: well, should the occasion arise...
Edd: ive only ever had one computer
Edd: just bits of it get upgraded at a time
Mad: is any of it the original computer?
Edd: like a brrom thats had 15 heads and 10 handles
Edd: its still the same brrom to
Edd: tho*
Edd: ffs wtf is brrom?

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the philosophical question for today: wtf is brrom?

Show And Tell - piccies from Mad's lounging week (not that it's worth holding your breath for, but they amused and pleased me so you're going to have them inflicted upon you nonetheless)

If you squint closely at this image you will realise that it is none other than Super Chocolate Rabbit in his blue, flying ninja cape. He did, however, make the mistake of landing on top of my hot chocolate and is pictured rapidly sinking into the swirly mass of whipped cream. Luckily the evil marshmallow pirahnas were not in evidence this day. Phew!

I've been in Sheffield this weekend visiting Charlotte and Dave and helping with a Scout Night Hike. To say it was damp is an understatement; I've never been more pleased by my waterproof trousers. I drove home through some pretty horrendous rain too, but the sun came out as I arrived back in Repton. This was the view as I got out of the car.

Before heading off to Sheffield I spent a few days relaxing in Cheltenham. The sun shone, the temperatures soared, girls wore skimpy tops: spring lust was in the air. I guess it's just that time of year again.

(Photos of my Classical Tour are now developed but still in need of scanning. One day, mebbe)

I have exciting photos (actually they're not that exciting so don't hold your breath, but they are amusing, in a Mad-sense-of-humour sort of way) but I can't remember how to get them into my webspace. It involves ftp and whizzy things like that but it's not working. This is infuriating, as a) I forget how to do this every single time and b) because I really want to share my picture of the ninja rabbit being swallowed up by a bed of whipped cream. Back to the instruction book, methinks!

Sir Peter Ustinov presented me with my degree. His speech was intelligent, eloquent and, as you would expect, very funny. James writes far better than I could about his death, so I recommend you get there and read his thoughts.

Today has been one of my thrice-yearly cleaning days, where furniture gets shifted, paperwork gets filed and lost items are found. It's been productive but quite dull; I keep being distracted by glimpses of my new hair, which is a very red shade of red. I've tried to capture it on camera to share the redness, but my phonecam's not good enough to get the magnificence of it all. In retrospect this is probably a good thing. Anyway, back to the cleaning...

Things I learned on my holidays about the Classical world
* The word 'arena' comes from the Latin for sand ('harena'). This sand was imported from Egypt to cover the floor of the Colusseum.
* Pliny likened the eruption of Vesuvius to an Umbrella Pine.
* The Romans built bath houses with curved, ridged roofs: this made the condensation run down the walls, rather than drip on the bathers.
* In Ancient Greece, Olympic champions were immortalised in statues; those who won three times were entitled to have their genitals shown at full size rather than scaled down.

Things I learned about the world of viticulture, alcohol and wine-tasting (The other teacher has a wine-tasting exam on Tuesday and I had to help him revise. It was fascinating)
* There are four ways of making sparkling wines, and if a French wine is an appellation controlee sparkling wine then it must have been made using the traditional (or 'champagne') method.
* Most countries have a quality grading based upon the regions of production, but the German system is based upon the quality of the grapes rather than where they are grown.
* A cider press is technically known as a 'cheese' and cider apple pulp gives up about 80% of its weight in juice.

Things that I discovered I knew but had forgotten
*The eruption of Vesuvius in AD79 was a Plinian eruption that destroyed the entire top of the cone and caused pyroclastic flows; my inner-geographer was very satisfied by our jaunt up the volcano.
* The role played by remuage and degorgement in the traditional production of sparkling wine; Charl and I saw this in action in Vouvray last summer.
*School trips can be hard work (especially when you have a hotel full of Essex schoolgirls who are determined to get some snog-action with your boys at silly o'clock in the morning, when you're equally as determined that they won't) but can also be great fun.

I got back from Italy this evening when the big hand was pointing at the 6 and the little hand was pointing to the 10. Far more on the week's exploits will follow, but not now because.... BOING..... "Time for bed!" (as said by Zebeddee, the only man with a coil fitted).

Going offline now. Have fun; I know I will.

Kids (mostly) gone - good
Reports all with Headmaster - good
E1-11 completed and stamped at post office - good
Three loads of the epic laundry disaster washed - good

Departure for Italy - 8am tomorrow.
Packing - non-existent
Head - exploding
Pah!

You will notice that this is a fairly symmetrical post. I don't know why but I find it aesthetically pleasing. I don't think I'm able to spell aesthetically though. Hey ho.

Who says ooop? Presumably rhying with hoop as everyone knows u and oo are normally homophonic.

Me. I say it. And yes, rhyming with hoop. It's the opposite to "dahn", which is pronounced in such a way that it rhymes with... well.... something, I'm sure, but I can't think of anything right now.

Anyhoo, I haven't time to discuss the intricacies of the English language, because today I shall be mostly writing reports. Again. I'll be glad when this term's over.

Two messages arrive from that box o'er there which make me suspect that my mum's finally got her new computer fastened up to the internet so she can indulge in late-night spodding.

Mother's watching!

which I think is a warning to tidy up my act and write less about my alcohol consumption, and

mother's passed database!

which means that her computer course is going well. Hi mummy!

Boo!

Hey! You scared me! You might be having a late-night essay crisis (it was posted from some academic institution ooop north at nearly 2.30am) but I was quite happily sitting here, minding my own businss, writing reports until they came out of my ears. Pah! Young people today! ;-)

I'm losing the plot very quickly. I think my head's turning into a tadpole. Why isn't it the end of term yet?

I've spent the last hour and a half on the netball courts. It's grey, breezy and starting to get dark, but - for the first time, possibly, ever - it's been good to be out doing sport. I took the seniors: we had a bit of a match, more than a smattering of silliness and lots of laughter. The exercise makes up for the fact that I stuffed my face with chocolate for much of the afternoon. It almost feels like life as normal, although I suspect that illusion's not going to last long. Off for tea now... more food: hurrah!! :-)

Today is the age of comments and so here is some commentage, arranged from random to not-quite-so-random...

can your brain do 720 degrees of rotation and stay in one piece?

Not normally, no, although after this last week I'd believe anything's possible.

Patron Saint of the Luddites? Ned Lud is the closest you'll get, I think. (see Brewer Dictionary of Phrase & Fable, online here: ) --Katie W, coming out of anonymity...

Good, that's answered a long-puzzling question of mine. Next!

Apropos of your recent, ahem, entries, about XXX Furniture: I recall a website, back in the dim-distant web-past which featured just that. Furniture porn

Bwah-ha-ha!! We like! These next two refer, I think, to the internet-dating saga and the danger of accountants:

I've only ever met one person who described themselves as an accountant who knows more about balance sheets than I do.

I don't think you should admit this in public, dear boy, I really don't.

Oh! And I know a non-boring accountant! Only young yet though, so give him time... KatieW, again; can you tell I'm at work? ;)

Tooth Fairies...

I only got 20p. Sob! (yikes, perhaps this is age reflective?)

Re: phonecam photo of my recycling (which is still growing at an exponential rate)

Where are the bottles of Port in that recycling pile? Mind you, I've not had any more since you introduced me to it at summer camp last year! TTFN Dave.

P.S. I meant to say that it looks mostly like beer and Wine, where are the port bottles....?

Port? Me?! Shurely Shome Mishtake. Moving quickly onwards: school...

Mock A-level marking advice: Choose a less popular subject. Tom

Perhaps there's sense in that suggestion. Any ideas? Lastly

Do any of your students read your blog?

Some find it by accident, I suspect, and some of my colleagues have been known to drop in occasionally. I don't have reader stats on purpose, though, so I have no idea. In fact, I have no idea about many things, so I'm off to make pancakes. Hurrah!

On Monday my Housemistress' husband died unexpectedly. He was a colleague: he taught history, coached games and used to be a Housemaster. His death stunned the school community, not least the girls in the House. Since then I've been running the House with support from colleagues: it's been made even more stressful by the proximity of the end of term and the associated report deadlines. The last five days have been horrible; no other word can describe the situation. I am very appreciative of all the supportive emails and messages - it's been hard going, not least because of the need to hide my emotions and to be strong for the girls' sake.

People's response to death is a bizarre thing: I was totally numb, calm and collected when I first heard; I cried when we had to tell the girls and then in the chapel service; I went through a phase of total, all-consuming anger. The girls have responded in very different ways and at different times, but we've talked and cried and hugged and laughed together a lot, and in a perverse way I think this has brought the community together. Jen the matron and I have had girls round to our flats at all hours of the day and night: we've all discovered so much more about each other than we knew before; we've probably learned something about ourselves too.

I was unable to think for the first twenty four hours. The only sentences I managed to write were straight from the "Here is John. He has a ball. He likes to run" school of simplicity, although they made less sense. I knew that blogging would be a bad idea, for although I write primarily for myself and I may have emotionally benefitted from writing my way through the raw pain of the situation, I know enough about discretion and corporate loyalty to recognise a bad idea when I think it.

We have six days of term left to go. There are forms to fill, lists to compile and print, reports to write. The final few days of term will be full of tidying, sorting, packing, leaving. In seven days' time I will be in Italy on a school trip. It's going to be busy and blog updates will be few and far between. Until we meet again...

Death is a great leveller. For now, words refuse to come. I'll be offline for most of the next three weeks. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

It's been a computer go-slow day, causing worry, delay and very rude words that I wouldn't normally say with such vemon except during the report season. Luckily the patron saint of the luddites was smiling down on me, and the first set of reports (deadline: 13 hours' time) is complete. I'm now eating vegetable curry, drinking beer and wondering what happened to my early night.

The questions begs: Why did you even think an accountant would be a fun person to go out with?

He just described his profession as "finance" and I thought he might be able to give me handy hints about interpreting Balance Sheets that I could then pass on to my kiddiwinkles here in school. Alas no. Besides, not all accountants are boring (she says, racking her brain to think of more than one person who falls in that category...)

I've been at a dinner party this evening, and should by rights now be at Jeremy's flat, drinking whisky and listening to contrapuntal music from the Baroque era. However, he's gone out, leaving me alone to do that most dangerous of pastimes: late-night blogging. There are many things I could write about - how much I'm enjoying the CD currently playing; how badly I'm singing along to the aforementioned CD; the glass of bourbon sitting next to my keyboard - but instead I'm going to write installment three in the whole internet dating saga. This ranks as number three on the list of "Ill-advised Actions Carried Out in 2004"; I shall probably have to edit this severely in the morning after school chapel. However, not being one to choose the sensible option, I shall press on regardless...

The problem with internet dating is that at some point it has to move off the screen and become a face-to-face meeting. This is - to say the least - nerve-wracking. Exchanging emails is harmless fun, but eventually one of you makes that first move towards a rendezvous, normally disguised as a throw-away comment that can be ignored without serious loss of face. You agree a time and location and then... well... Robert's your father's sibling, as they say.

If only.

In my case, you discuss the theoretical meeting over email ("Mmm, that would be lovely"), then are forced to make decisions about when and where. You then prevaricate, spend some time researching the options, looking up locations on streemap, faff, and eventually talk on the phone. This is the moment when you realise that their accent is wrong, or they sound like an accountant (which, to be fair, he was). Nonetheless, you agree to meet, in a "well, it's better than a night by myself and maybe he's not a bunny boiler" sort of way.

The first trauma is what to wear. For a bloke, this might be less of an issue, but it's pretty near impossible for me. Should it be normal casual clothes, or something a bit more, well, special? Personally, the first option involves jeans and Doc Martens, which are often enough to put a bloke off before I even speak. On the other hand, my next smartest set of clothes is more accurately described as a suit. The compromise was my smartest pair of jeans, a girlie-ish top, and no docs: close, but no banana.

The drive to the date's location is a time to worry about everything from appearance to conversation gambits. It's like a job interview: you've done your background research by re-reading their emails, so you plan questions that might be relevant; you prepare answers that you think are witty, yet reveal further depths; you decide what you're *not* going to reveal. What makes it worse is the fact that you've only ever seen a couple of photos of them, if that: how will you recognise them? Luckily, the Madmobile's a good way of being found - none of that "I shall be wearing a blue top, holding a rose and carrying a copy of The Economist"; instead, telling them to look for the blue beetle is an easy option.

When (if?!) you manage to meet up, you then have to make the decision about what to drink. Is a pint too manly? G and T too expensive? J2O too girlie? And then, the conversation....

On Tuesday evening, I was lucky enough to discover that he'd done his degree where I'd done my teacher training. An innocent university-related question turned into a 20 minute saga of how he found his house in his second year. At that moment I realised with certainty that it was not to be. It was a pleasant evening, but not one with any sparkle or chemistry; I cut my losses and went home.

The evening, however, was not a dead loss: I spent most of the journey home, and much time afterwards, talking to Mr Pancake Party. I've never mentioned the internet once to him, and perhaps that's the way it should stay....

Pish! Forgot to put the "www" bit in the HTML. What a fool! :-) However, now it's working, there is no hope: you're going to be inundated with pictures as well as words from Planet Mad. There is no escape! Mua-ha-ha!!!

I *so* should be an evil dictator.

Ah. Broken it. Better get back to the ftp manual...

I have blue teeth and a dongle. Most attractive.

It does, however, mean that I am (hopefully) ready to show you the first picture I took with my new phone. That is, provided I've not had a Luddite attack. Ladies and gentlemen, I present... my recycling!

Guides tonight: manic. My nerves: frazzled. Until...

Guide A: Mad - have you got a ruler?
Me: Yup - here you are: my special dinosaur ruler, with centimetres on one side, and a timeline of dinosaurs on the other.
Guide A: Cool. What's this one?
Me: That's a Trilobite.
Guide B: Oh - I've got one of those...
Me: Really?
Guide B: Yes, with Kings and Queens down one side.
Me: What - a trilobite?! With kings and queens?!

It turn out that she meant a ruler. Shame. I got quite excited for a moment.

After marking what feels like several hundred mock A-level exam papers, and finally getting all of my district's census paperwork finished, I decided that it was time to tidy up. Nestling in amongst the piles of paperwork,* I've found four cheques, and countless adverts for courses that look very interesting but took place in 2003.

I'm fed up with being so badly organised. I hate being so rubbish with paperwork. It's time for a change.

"Mountains" is a more accurate term for these piles, as is "Bloody loads of it".

WHHEEeeeeeeeeeee... splut.

That is the sound of my brain exploding. A-level mock exams seem such a good idea, but they involve sooooo much marking. Bah!

Comments a-plenty! First up, teeth:

I was shocked by inflation of tooth fairy money. I used to get 50p. Amy

50p from the tooth fairy round our way. Except when she hasn't got any change, then it's a quid (grumble grumble)

Then, furniture:

When you think about it, all furniture shops must deal in XXX furniture. AKA beds. Oh yes. ..Yes! Ye-you get the idea I'm sure..!

Ahem! Moving swiftly onwards to... ah... dating

damnit, I thought at least one of my friends had resisted beep beep internet dating. Hope lurve (or its more suitable stable mate - is in the air or perhaps somewhere more tangible? Happy St Davids so smug, so single, Charlx

hmmm, new thing doesn't let me review these things. Spelling pants this time of night (and don't even start me on the punctuation). Please don't set Lynn Truss on me Charl

Mua-ha-ha!! I have a tale and a half to tell about the whole dating thang, but that's going to have to wait until later when I'm not officially on duty. Finally, for now:

Walk faster!

Still on TWENTY NINE - Si J

And on 29 I shall have to stay, for my walking-partner is now offically signed off games/sport/exercise: I was hoping that he'd recover enough to have a manic week of walking, but his doctor has intervened and the whole thing's off. Given that the report-writing season is just about to begin, this is probably a good thing.

1.50 is loads. Are these rich rainbows?

Not particularly; it's just inflation, I think. Certainly it's not 20p per tooth any more.

what about the hogfather? The weakest Discworld book dont you think?

Mebbe, although I'm fond of all of them, in their own way. I was contemplating opening a whole squirmy worm-filled can of a discussion by saying that I'm less fond of the early Discworld books than I am of the more recent, more intellectually-humorous novels, but I don't think I dare. Instead I'm off shopping.... ooh, the big wide world beckons!

Do you believe in the Tooth Fairy then?

Absolutely. The going rate is £1.50 for a front tooth, or so my Rainbow informant tells me. Although, I think you'll find it's a franchised operation: a Tooth Fairy may be more accurate. Thank you, Terry P.

I was going to do some tidying up, and then have an early night. There I was, happily sitting at my computer, when suddenly the Time Fairy came and stole all of my evening. Yaaargh!

This evening I discovered a new use for Cadbury's Roses chocolates. They are in fact an excellent way of teaching finance, accounts and ratio analysis. They were used for demonstrating the different types of profit, for calcuating the amount of working capital and for analysing the gearing of a business. They also make handy brainfood when your grey matter's had enough. Hurrah!

GCSE coursework; deadline zooming closer very quickly.

"Please Miss, will you read my questionnaire?"
"Of course. Let me look."
...
"Eurm, what's this in your list of businesses?"
"Ah, I don't know its name, but it's the furniture shop on the corner."
"Well, you'd better find out. You can't refer to it as the XXX Furniture Shop."

A reader asks:

How's thunderbird?

I mean firebox. I have thunderbird on the brain. FAB

Firefox is great; even better than the Thunderbirds, if such a thing is possible!

I like this. Far better than yer average computer game. Hurrah for B3ta.com.

Once every four years, I do a bit of Sortin' and Tidyin', and as a part of this, I've been rummaging through my bloggage comments. Hmmm.... there's a lot to get through! And, believe me, this is merely a small sample...

First up, a general enquiry:

Is bloggage a word?

If it's not, it is now! Next, Tim, today:

Well, you've got just over 5.5 hours left to propose to somebody.

Time's ticking away... must get going. It's like Countdown. Or Challenge Anneka. Or more like Mission: Impossible!

Next up, thoughts on the theme of the Madmobile:

I think you should get some MadMobile stickers made up for the Madmobile. Maybe some go faster stripes as well.

Or you could paste panda feet over the roof.

Go faster stripes!! We like that! Maybe even flames painted up the sides... Quick! - stop me before I get carried away...

Moving on with great haste, some about dating:

Loved your internet dating description... it would register highly on my attractive personality scale... and it made me laugh - especially the "possessive partner" after a comment about apostrophes.

Excellent write-up. Especially like the bit on choosing a username, I eventually came to the conclusion that the best username was just your real name. No misrepresentation, no hiding behind a nickname, and evident confidence (i.e. you don't give a crap about your mates identifying you). Shame I never did use my real name, then. :) - Mal. (aka boyracer1975 aka minimalist aka scruffyget)

That internet dating stuff - which service are you using? I want to do a highly unscientific test and I'll put money on the outcome. ;) Here's the deal... you write what you think would be a perfect bloke's profile (in your eyes), and I'll bet you a fiver that it gets less interest than your own profile. Go on, it could be easy money... - Mal.

I was just looking through your planet, and I promise not to tell Charlotte you've signed up to an internet dating thing! Speak to you soon Dave.

The shame! The shame! Pffft! :-P Am seriously considering taking Mal up on his challenge though; I might need to consult the experts first.

Last, but by no means least:

blah. Planet Mad. The perfect work time passer :)

I'm glad. It passes my work time too, which is why I now have a big marking crisis. You should see my empty inbox though: very sexy!

Today is the traditional day for a woman to propose to her beloved. That didn't have much appeal, not least because of the lack of a suitable beloved, so I went to Lancaster and did a presentation at the SSAGO AGM instead. I don't think I'm cut out to be a romantic, y'know.

From one who knows firsthand what I can be like when I'm drunk:

You obviously weren't drunk enough in brum

Referring, I think, to my dearth of snogging this afternoon. I didn't think that a lack of sobriety would go well with driving the Madmobile!

This afternoon saw me whizzing off to Brum to meet up with someone I'd met over the internet. I followed all the advice to the letter: I'd briefed my friend here about my plans; we met in a public place; we had drinks but not a meal; I didn't give away too many details about myself; I wore a disguise; I used a fake name. Just call me Conchita Gonzales...

All in all it was a pleasant afternoon - we mooched past the Bullring, went for coffee and then played lots of pool. There was much chuckling and mutual understanding. As a mate, they have real potential; as a snog, well, I'm not so sure. Mebbe time will tell...

The whole supermarket dating thing perhaps wasn't such a bad idea after all....

Ooooh! It's all change here at Planet Mad. Under the influence of a certain Mr B, I've now got another chat client*, a pine email account** and a new browser.*** Coupled with last week's new phone, it's all too much for me to bear. Off to lie down in a darkened room.... oh.... that's called "going to bed" is it?! Gosh! You learn a new thing every day!

* Jabber - mademuss@doylem.co.uk
** Just like the good old days playing on unix-based email rather than writing essays
*** Firefox, by mozilla. It's goooooood.

You know that early night I was going to have? It didn't quite happen. Instead I had good company, lots of giggles, bottles of wine, a chocolate fight and an impromptu dinner party. Pah! I'm just such a socialite! ;-)

But, before I finally *do* head off to bed, a few bits of commentage drifting in over the ether...

an early night? You mentioned boozing earlier :)

Bah! Rumbled! And then Tom wrote

< font color='white'>BOO! Tom (hope this works)< / font>

Except he used proper HTML, and I only noticed it because my email arrives as plain text not HTML. Sorry! Finally:

Merci beaucoup for the pancake tip. The bit I have trouble with, however, is the "frying delicately" part. After many attempts, I think perhaps I am not cut out to be a chef, and it's best to leave it up to people who know how.

You are mislead: pancks are sooooo easy. I do (if I say so myself) make a mean panck or two, but let's face it: if my Guides can do it, anyone can!

Mua-ha-ha... subtle advertising - we like!

Thanks to Tim for pointing it out!

Today I have mostly been: netballing; freezing; thawing; chatting; peace-making; running; playing; shouting; singing.

Duty until 9, and then an early night - I just can't hack the pace anymore!

love the internet dating commentary. Oh so true. And yet, I met what turned out to be one of my best friends through such a (shhh) service a couple years ago, so it's a mystery!

It certainly is. I'm definitely bemused by it!

Wednesday is one of my overnight duty nights, where I have to do late-night patrols of the House, check everywhere is locked up and set the intruder alarms. Normally it's a real battle. After all, imagine what it's like trying to get a teenager into their bedroom by a certain time, to turn their lights out at a time which is inevitably far earlier than lights-out at home. Now multiply that by 60. Words cannot do justice to some of the battles of wills that take place over bedtimes. I normally reckon on doing a final check at about midnight.

Tonight, however, was a doddle: at 10.55pm, the common rooms were deserted, there was no audible noise, all of the lights were out. Easy life - maybe even an early night for me too!!

It just makes me worried that they're plotting something.

I received an exciting message earlier. It read:




"Oh!" I thought, "A message written in invisible print." However, it appears that I may have been mistaken:

Woops, I wondered what would happen if I pressed the button below. - XymoxJonP

A-ha! That explains it! The box o'er there claims another victim! Mua-ha-ha!!

(This post has been brought to you using exclamation marks from the EU Punctuation Surplus; no commas were harmed in the create of this bloggage.)

Oooh! Intrigue and mystery! We like intrigue...

You seem a girl after my own heart, looking at the entry on Feb 1st. I might have said this before. Mm gin and tonic. Hello! - random person who you don't know and who hasn't had ANY pancakes yet :(

Tres exciting, mais oui? (And that's yer actual French!) The answer of course, oh mystery visitor, is to acquire one egg, half a pint of milk (full-fat all the way) and 4oz of plain flour, whizz together, fry delicately, and Robert's your mother's brother.

It's GCSE mock exam week, and I had the pleasure of invigilating in the main school hall for a lesson today. Invigilation for internal exams is bearable because we're allowed to get on with other work - in this case, unsurprisingly, marking - but it was so bitterly cold that by the end of 50 minutes I'd turned into an ice-cube. To be fair, I'm not particularly cubic; perhaps I would be better described as an "ice-blob".

Either way, I'd like to be used to chill gin and tonic, but it had better be a big glass.

pancake excesses? mmmmmm

Mmmm it was indeed (both on Saturday and tonight) although I've eaten so much I had to undo the waistband on my jeans. Bleurgh!

Next you'll be buying a full version of AutoCAD (v.expensive) just so you can own a dongle! Caz

Nah, I'll be following my Uncle Pete's advice and looking here instead!

And now... bed.

Pah, pah and more pah! Technology is not my friend; Orange customer services are not my knights in shining armour. I have used my whizzy new phone to take a fantastic picture of this evening's work, and I was going to post it here with a comedy caption. Alas, it's not to be. I'm afraid you're missing out; I, however, will continue chortling about it for some time to come, I suspect, and once the damn thing's working properly, I shall inflict it upon you when you're least expecting it.

I'm off now to top up my pancake level, which has been gradually falling after Saturday's excesses. Hurrah!

An unexpected boon - even though it is a Tuesday afternoon, I'm not doing netball! I'll be marking exam papers instead, which doesn't sound much more exciting until you realise that it can take place indoors with a big pot of tea alongside. Hmmm...

After a certain amount of prompting this weekend, I continue my epic about internet dating. I suspect that this is a bad thing to do, but it all amuses me, so - Katie Melua in the background and beer in hand - I'm off...

The whole internet dating thing's all a bit nerve-wracking: you have 300 words in which to prostitute yourself, and then you have to hope that others manage to read between the lines, are able to pick up the nuances in your description, can read you as you're meant to be read. Luckily, I have enough practice reading kids' work to identify the real person behind the writing. I'm not sure this is a good thing though.

To cynical ol' me, profiles fall into three categories. The first group are those whose profiles might as well read

I'm not bothered about looks, it's personality that counts (although all I want is a woman who's blonde, tall, thin, with huge breasts so don't bother applying unless you hit three out of these criteria)

. You can be sure that a lot of the people who specify their ideal woman's size/shape are not quite 10/10 on the physical perfection scale themselves, and co-incidentally will also be the people who describe themselves as "very attractive". Strange, that.

The second group are most nicely described as "desperate", in a "most women tend to run away screaming loudly" sort of way. There's no one thing that identifies these blokes, although they have a tendency to finish their profiles with the words "please drop me a line!", "please, please get in touch" or "pretty please send me a message". If it's about reading between the lines, these blokes' profiles are often written in double-line spacing.

The third subsection are the genuine men who are simultaneously embarrassed by having to resort to internet dating ("I've never done this before, but my mate said it works, so I thought I'd give it a go...") but also committed enough to write an interesting, witty profile. Quite often these are the men who stand out, who have thought it through, who set themselves apart from the crowd. There are certainly some nice people out there, provided you can take 300 words as an accurate guide to someone's personality.

Having deciphered some of the code used in the profiles, the next stage is identifying your favourites. In some cases, this is not hard. In other cases it may be a quirky comment, or simply a certain turn of phrase that pushes someone to the front of the queue. Photographs help, of course, although I myself am too cowardly to add my own photo. What makes this whole selection process worse, however, is the fact that the objects of your affection can see that they have been placed on your favourite list; it's all a bit too traumatic for me to cope with. What happens if your favourites don't add you to *their* 'favourite' list? Are you then entitled to believe that you're worthless? Or is it just a case that they're member of the superficial brigade who believe that woman with short, dark hair are not as worthy as tall blondes? To be honest, the whole "whose favourite list am I on" malarky is a tad disturbing; I never knew that weirdos found me so attractive until I did internet dating!

Don't get me wrong, I've exchanged emails with some nice blokeys - one or two of whom I may well meet - but I'm still not convinced about this as a method of meeting new people. I still have 18 days left of my extended, paid-for membership left, after which time I might just let it drift quietly off. I might stick to snogging Wendy's mates after all...! :-)

Ladies and gentlemen, I am contemplating buying a dongle.

And what's more, I'm not just considering it because I like its name!

It's the first day of Summer Timetable, which means that afternoon lessons now take place before games, rather than vice versa. It's all to do with the light evenings, apparently, although I think it's just a cunning ploy to stop me napping after lunch. In honour of the official start of summer (at least in school terms!) I wore my new girlie clothes, and very smart I looked too; so much so that kids kept asking if I was off anywhere important!

I'm struggling to get my new phone to do the exciting things that I want it to: technology yet again defeats me. One day, I keep telling myself, I will get it all sorted out; until that point I'll just keep pressing buttons at random and see what happens.

I have a huge amount of paperwork to do, but - all being well - it will be sorted this evening and I will then be far less stressed. Fingers crossed...

Last night I was mostly eating pancakes. Today I shall be mostly smirking.

:-)

Perambulating round the house during the last lesson before lunch today, I discovered a posse of sixth-form watching some DVD about the making of Lord of the Rings. We started talking about the film and the relative attractiveness of the various characters ("Still the prettiest") as they appeared on the screen.

A. (who's not seen the film): Ooh - who's that?
E.: That's Sam and Frodo.
Me: Sam's moving in for a snog...
All the girls: NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
E.: No - they're just friends.
Me: Eurm... have you seen the way that Sam glances longingly at Frodo?!
E.: No - they're good friends.
Me: I bet you don't look at your friends like that.

[all eyes move to the TV, where - luckily - Sam is fluttering his eyelids at Frodo in a particularly homoerotic way]

E.: Hmmm... I'd never thought of it before, but now you come to mention it...

Mua-ha-ha!! That's just destroyed the film for them: never again will they be able to watch it without thinking of that! Tomorrow I will point them in the direction of the Very Secret Diaries and their corruption will be complete! :-)

Last night was another eventful night on duty. Much as I love the constant change and challenge of school, sometimes I long for a more mundane life.

A new phone has been acquired (number still the same), but I've not been able to get any of the phone numbers off the old sim card. I've not got them written down anywhere either.

I am a wally.

I took my phone to the resident phone-experts (a.k.a. the sixth form in the House) and explained the situation. One took my sim-card in an attempt to retrieve my numbers, while another attacked my phone's innards with a pen, and then with a key (they're a very techically minded lot!). Neither attempt was successful. For a brief moment, the combination of dodgy repair moves and shocking language paid off, and we got it working; I managed to write down 3 numbers and it died again.

Quite how the conversation got from phones to the menopause and KY Jelly I have no idea, but it did and it was very amusing. What japes!

Just on a day when it couldn't possibly get any worse, my phone's broken. I took the cover off and something fell out of it. This item is made of plastic and metal and looks like it could be an intergral part of the phone-turning-on mechanism. Fuck shit wank bollocks: that's how crap I'm feeling right now.

Lunch in school is a formal affair: each child returns to their House to eat while staff move from House to House. It's all highly civilised, and generally finishes with coffee for the teachers on the Housemaster/Housemistress' private side. Thursdays is my day for eating at one of the boys' Houses, and after lunch the Housemaster's children and their friends ran in (seeing as they hadve a decent length half-term, not some glorified weekend). One girl saw me, stopped dead in her tracks, pointed and said,

"That's the mad leader from Rainbows!"

Yargh! My disguise is blown!

This afternoon I should have been marking, but I went for an adventure instead. This evening I should have been marking, but I tried to fix my computer instead. Tonight I should be sleeping, but I'll be doing my marking instead. Chance of a an early night: diminishing quickly.

Today I shall be mostly having inpromptu luncheon parties.

Thoughts drifting inwards:

I'm just giggling at your entry

I assume this refers to my whittering about dating, not any other sort of entry. Moving swiftly on before those of you with dirty minds begin to get intrigued...

Girlie clothes? more details needed. Does this mean skirts?

It tommorrow and still no word of how you found yourself in Next? Caz (who has to buy a girlie dress before Aug)

It does indeed mean skirts, or at least, one skirt, plus jacket and top. What make this skirt even more girlie than any other skirt that I own is that it is short. Well, not short in most people's eyes, but by my standards it's miniscule. All I need now is some courage to wear it in public!

A couple of weeks ago, my sixth form assured me that internet dating was the way forwards. "You should try it, Miss E: it's free to sign up and it's sooo funny," said one girl, and - because it was a Friday morning and nearing the end of the lesson and the topic was particularly boring - I let her continue. It was nothing to do with my desire to know more about the whole thing, you understand, because (as you will all know) I am by no means desperate. Of course not. I have more social engagements than an engaged person who is very social. Honest. Moving on swiftly...

I decided that there may be a modicum of truth in what my sixth form said and asked around those who know about such things; the results of my survey were quite promising, and the advice offered was very useful. With this in mind, I decided to sign up. The site I'd chosen let guests have a look at a few profiles, to whet the appetite as it were. There were no obvious weirdos in the sample, so - feeling reassured - I took the plunge and hit the "Join now!" button.

I thought it would be quite straightforward: after all, how hard can it be to write a bit about yourself? I was wrong. The first hurdle was choosing a user-name. This says much about how people would like to be perceived, and possibly says more about their personality than they would care to reveal. Let's face it: what would you expect from someone if they call themselves "Sexy_chick" or "Horny_grrrl"? You might as well call yourself "Over-inflated_Ego" or "I'm_Really_A_Minger". Thinking of a suitable tag for myself was almost impossible. After all, I suspect I'm unlikely to get much interest if I'm called "Cynical_Git" or "Desperate_Teacher". And whilst I may attract attention if I go down the physical description route ("Massive_Knockers") I suspect it may not be the sort of bloke I'm quite looking for!

Eventually I decided on something suitable, breathed a sigh of relief and clicked on the "Next" button. I then had to enter information on a variety of topics, using little drop-down lists. "Phew!" thought I, "Much easier!" Oh no! Height - fine; age - no problems; employment and income - a doddle; appearance - ah. The options available were "average", "attractive" and "very attractive". Now, call me cyncial if you will, but you can guess what I'll be thinking as I search through the profiles - "very attractive" is likely to translate directly to "arrogant" while "average" may as well be "minger". The only option has to be "attractive", so that's what I chose, regardless of how true it is or isn't. (And - on a related tangent - do people really have much idea of how attractive they are? Isn't it all a tad subjective?)

The final part of the sign-up process involves a blank box, with the instruction "describe yourself and your ideal partner". No longer are there helpful little drop-down lists wtih options to select; the only helpful suggestion is "Get this bit right - it's the most important bit"; no pressure, but the page is a blank canvas just waiting for your pen picture. Aaargh! What to write?! Something pithy and unconventional; words portraying my eloquence and wit, and my modesty too. In the end I compromised:

I like: being busy; lying on the sofa; trying new things; ordering the same meal each time; my job; my free time; being with friends; being alone; walking on hilltops; sitting in pubs; raucous laughter; quiet smirks; being me; life. I'm not so keen on: whingers; apostrophes in the wrong place; possessive partners. The above is an official entry in the "Crappest Personal Ad Competition 2004"

Not bad for 5 minutes' thinking gone midnight when all I wanted to do was go to bed. So that was it - the trap was set, the bait had been laid: now all I had to do was wait.

It didn't take long.

I'd had no intention of paying any sort of fee, but then the first email arrived: "you have 2 new messages" Excitement!! The only drawback is the need to pay to read them. Pah! Unable to bear the suspense any longer out came the plastic, and a moment later the messages were there on my screen.

hi.i am quite shy till i get to know someone. i like 4x4 vehicles and exploreing the countryside in them.i am also interested in the wiccan religion& like visiting stone circles & megaliths.

Hey how u doing? we seem to have same intrests, i am from derby , but work in notts, i love going out, walking and being outside, and keeping fit and going to cinema too and 10 pin bowling and play fottie to but like lots cuddles 2, :-) i am 26 male and i drive, mail me back if u like the sound of me, i am not looking for perfection just sumone to make me complete, is that you? come on mail me back its valatines day xxx

My heart sank. Given my pedantic fastidiousness about spelling and punctuation, it seemed I was destined to failure. How to reply without causing offence?

"Thanks for your message but you are clearly a fool who hasn't bothered to read my profile in depth."

Hmmm.... maybe not. Try again:

"Has no-one ever told you how annoying txt-speak is in proper writing? No? Then let me take the opportunity"

Again, unlikely to be a winner. Instead, I have to confess, I just ignored them. Youch. Luckily, the next few messages were properly spelt and punctuated and the whole thing seemed much better. Of these, and of profiles, more next time - I have to go and lie down in a darkened room now to recover from writing such an epic. Sorry, eyes!

I was going to write, in depth, about my experiences so far with internet dating, but I was kidnapped by aliens, dragged round Ikea and forced to buy girlie clothes in Next. Tomorrow, I promise you...

Claire's doing some encouragement:

74 miles to go and only the second half of term to do them in!! Go for it Love CMT

I did another 3 miles on Sunday, but even so I've got one hell of a lot of walking to get done. Eeek! Better get my boots on! :-)

The weekend started in fairly conventional fashion with lessons and a parents' meeting, but the kids all ran away at lunchtime, leaving me free to spend the afternoon playing pool, drinking beer and feeding money into the jukebox like there's no tomorrow. It was good, as was the evening's curry and conversation, and the Sunday lounging. Last night was spent at a colleague's for dinner, and then back here for drinks, deep'n'meaningful conversation and a lazy Monday. A fine start to the holiday, methinks!

With reference to my new box o'er there (I assume!):

Spiffy. Looks exactly the same as before. :)

Indeed it does: I have talented friends! Only four lessons, one parents' meeting, one sleep session and lots of tidying-up to go before it's the holiday: let the good times commence!

Why is it that I get hungry after drinking? Right now I could devour a horse and all its stablemates. Also its unstable mates too.

Chocolate monitor?!! What a quality job! :)

Indeed it was.

hope your bum thaws out

Luckily it has; thanks for enquiring!

The box o'er there used to be powered by some free webhosting thingy but it caused all sorts of confusion, and so Tim has kindly written me a new one and very whizzy it is too. I bow down in homage to his spoddiness. Apparently it's going to cost me 6 beers per year; I reckon that's a bargain!

Today was the day of the school's annual Steeplechase, which in a world without euphemism would be known as "the evil cross-country race over very muddy fields which the bastard sadist teachers make you run, while they stand on a corner near the end and shout out cheery encouragement. Grrr." Last year I was chocolate monitor; this year I got to be one of the sadist teachers lining the route. It was all good, clean fun, but my bum still hasn't thawed out.

In the department we have a system of observations set up so we all visit another teacher and watch one of their lessons. I had a colleague in my Upper Sixth lesson this morning, and we were talking about strategic planning for businesses, using McDonald's strategic direction mapping technique: all very exciting stuff, as you can well imagine. I decided to use supermarkets for my example. Just imagine the scene: the outline map is projected on the board; I'm taking each supermarket in turn and marking it in the appropriate position on the map; I'm waving my arms round energetically; it's all going really well. And then my braincell explodes. I get confused and forget how to speak. I refer to Lidl and Aldi as "Addl". Bugger.

This is my second early morning in a row. Bleurgh!

I've been letting things slip a little of late blogwise. I haven't been able to bring myself to write about the inspection; I've got comments stacked up and not replied to; I've been a bit crap all round, really. I have, however, now regained my inner balance and poise* and am feeling up to it once more. Sadly, there's a large pile of marking to be overcome first, which is growing at what seems like an exponential rate. I promise you: once that's done, I'll be a bit more diligent.

* Some of you may be surprised to discover that I have poise and balance, but I do. They're just very well hidden.

It's been a good day: lounging in bed reading; getting passport photos that look vaguely recognisable; listening to a concert by some phenomonal string players. Sadly, this schedule hasn't included any marking as yet, so that's my evening occupied!

The best-laid plans, and all that. Hey ho!

Am feeling a little more invigorated today: slightly less nondescript and slightly more positive. Tonight, I break free and head off to the Big Bad City of Brum for a bit of a boogie; tomorrow I intend to spend all day in bed recovering!

I suspect I'm ailing for something. I've had an opened bar of Dairy Milk on the kitchen table for three days, and have been able to eat no more than three squares without feeling sick. It's a bad sign when my chocolate tolerance drops... how will I get through my marking now?!

We're in the middle of an inspection into care standards at school. It's all a bit much to write about but I'm sleepy-tired and feel like a deflated balloon.

It's been an amusing day. Hectic, mind you, but amusing.

Amusing thing number 1:
One of my GCSE classes created some quiz cards at the end of last term: a Business Studies question and answer on one side; a non-business question/answer on the reverse. We'd done a business question and I turned the card over to read: "What is Miss E's first name?" You should have heard the answers, even after I gave them the initial:
Me: It begins with an M
Them: Madge?
Me: No!
Them: Maggie?
Me: No!
Them: Margarietta?
Me: No!
Them: Eurm... Miss?
Me: Noooo!
Them: Matron?
Me: NOOOO!
(I had to tell them in the end, just so we could get back to the excitement of ratio analysis)

Amusing thing number 2:
There was something. Honest. I just can't remember what it was. I suspect it have something to do with renaming certain ratios as the Current Bun and the Roast, but I'm not quite sure. Poor lil' braincell! I really must go to bed. G'night.

Words that get up my nose:

alot
payed
companys

Grrrr....

(I'm not even going to mention apostrophes and semi-colons)

Tonight, Matthew, I'm going to be... late-night marking, helped by tea. Admittedly it's not late at night just yet, but I suspect it might be by the time I'm through.