Gardening needs appropriate footwear, and ebay's come up trumps. I don't think they'll arrive in time to do exciting digging this weekend, but soon I'll be happily wallowing in mud in new blue wellies. Whoooo!!

The garden man (a.k.a. the parish vicar) was more than happy to hand his vegetable patch over to us ruffians. This time next year it'll be sprouts on sticks all round. You have been warned!

Off to see a man about a veg patch.

Well, it snowed today, but sadly not heavily enough to stick. It didn't stop a man reversing his car into my (parked) car. Luckily he was driving o-h-s-o-s-l-o-w-l-y, there's no noticeable damage, and I was standing on the pavement next to the car chatting to my head of department when it happened. I tapped on his window and said, "Excuse me sir, I think you've just reversed into my car." He replied, "Surely not - I just went back until I hit the curb." Given that his car was a) a good foot away from the curb; and b) resting with its back bumber against my front bumper, he could do little other than apologise. Doddery old drivers!

In other news, we think that we've got a vegetable garden to look after. We've been on the hunt for an allotment for a while, but there's a waiting list as long as My Cat's girth, and we stand no chance moving up the queue - I've only lived in the village for five years, so I'm still a wet behind the ears interloper. The vicar, however, prostitutes out his veg patch to anyone willing to dig it and pay him a tithe in vegetables. Rob is already planning vegetable rotation systems; I'm thinking that it may be time to add gardening tools to our Christmas and wedding list. At the moment, the most spade-like implement we own is a tablespoon... there's a bit of catching up to do in the digging department, methinks!

Bad, naughty Emuss. Have been playing along with a nice-sounding man who phoned to ask if I wanted health insurance. I even asked about underwriters, and made encouraging sounds while he desparately persuaded me to hand over my bank details. It's a shame he put so much effort into such a lost cause. Mua-ha-ha!!!

In other news, I have been offered a place on a GOLD trip to South Africa next summer. I'm VERY excited. Now all I have to do is raise the dosh...

The worst week in the whole history of bad weeks has finally drawn to a close. Things all went a bit belly-up for a while at school, including a weekend in which I got about 5 hours off; the loss of my self-appraisal form; and failing to complete over 70 internal reports by the deadline, just by thinking that Thursday was Wednesday. To say that it was fraught is a little bit of an understatement. Now, though, it's finished, hopefully never to return.

There were good moments of last week, including the House charity dinner, where I got to take more photos than is possibly healthy. I only hope my dad isn't right when he says that digi-cameras are only able to take a certain number of shots before they break: Rob and I have mananged hundreds already. Rob's photos are far better than mine, especially this one and this one. Even so, I'm still pleased with these shots from the house dinner:



I know that the background isn't great, but I just love the expression on her face.



Some of the band, including Richard's wig!

Please stop the world, I want to get off.

Ebay parcelly goodness day! My postman must hate me! :-)

Digi-photos spew forth relentlessly: so far I've taken 103, of which the grand total of five are worth even thinking about keeping. My cat is now looking like this when I go near her:



That's one mightly unimpressed cat.

Things have been busy here, so alopogies to Charl who has been trying to avoid writing essays but has had no new bloggage to distract her. The last week has consisted of school, marking, socialising, co-cooking a mighty fine roast lunch, and discovering ebay.

I've lurked through ebay occasionally, but have never picked up the nerve to hit the Bid Now button. The impending nuptuals (tee hee!) have, however, necessitated a bit of camera-buying-goodness. There were a few moments of nail-biting worry as I faffed about with bank verification, but the sale went through without a hitch and the camera arrived yesterday afternoon. I speed-read the manual last night and took about a bazillion pictures of My Cat to try out the different functions. It was all hampered a bit by not knowing what an aperture was, and having no clue about shutter speeds, but a quick session this afternoon with one of the art teachers has helped a lot. The cat, however, keeps running away when I get the camera out, so I think I'd best find a new subject. Luckily Rob's home from work soon.

The worst thing about buying the camera is that I am now hooked on ebay which is BAD and they take the money straight out my bank account which is BAD but there's all sorts of random things for sale which is GOOD and I've already bought a new jug that matches our plates which is GOOD. Overall, the goods and bads seem to balance themselves out, so I won't stop using it just yet. As an economist might say, I'm indifferent, but since when has indifference stopped something so pleasurable? After all, I nearly bought an aga over the weekend, and was outbid at the last minute today on a Sultans of Ping CD.... who knows what crap I might have accumulated by the time I get hitched?!

HURRAH, HURRAH AND THRICE HURRAH!! What better news could greet my return from an exciting SAGGA theme weekend?! Bless.

I'm sitting in bed surrounded by cats, books and paperwork. It's very comfy, and slightly purry, but the one thing I'm lacking is motivation. Sigh.

After a lovely week spent eating my way around England, I'm now back home and appreciating having broadband access again. Geek, moi?!

It was great to get away last week: Rob has written about it at great length, so this is the picture book version. On Saturday I tried on wedding dresses with Wendy and Amy, who both have far better dress sense than me, so were eminently qualified to accompany me. I like to think that we brightened the shop assistant's day. Pictures of this bit of the holiday are banned, so readers aren't put into therapy by pictures of me in a dress. (Actually it's because of copyright, but that's far too mundane a reason).

On Sunday, we did some walking in the Cotswolds...


...on a pile of logs...


...by a lake...


...and then watched a film about a rabbit, and heard a man talk about some food. Top day.

We went down south on Monday to eat stay with Rob's mum. We ate lots. We went to the sea
(Rob complained that I cut the top of his head off in this photo. I think it's just coz he has a tall head)

From Deepest Darkest Devon we headed up to my parents' house for a few days, where the Mad's-Mother-Cutting-And-Sticking-Machine went full speed ahead making wedding invitations:
This picture shows that the the invites are being made VERY VERY quickly.

The first 50 to be finished. Rock and roll.

And now I've got a week at home, pottering about and generally doing all the things I should have been doing all term instead of planning a wedding, along with reading this with baited breath. Blimey.

Rob's latest cookery adventure has been the creation of samosas. The first time, he made them all alone and I just got to eat them. This time, I got to make them myself. Well, "make" is perhaps too accurate a term. Here is Rob's attempt:

And here's mine:

It's been re-names the Poo-mosa, because it looks like poo, especially compared to Rob's expert efforts:

Pah.

There is little better than the moment when, after an intense weekend away doing Guidey things, you are greeted by a man, some cats, a shower and a roast duck, all of which appear glad to see you.* The weekend was an INTOPS event, which is about the international opportunities within Guiding, ranging from international camps in the UK to being WAGGGS representative at global seminars. Some of the weekend was devised to allow selection for GOLD (Guiding Overseas Linked to Development) and the activities were fun but tiring, particularly the [censored] and the [censored]. I wasn't too keen on the [censored] but overall it was great: it's what I needed to fight off the blue-knickered cynicism that was creeping in around the edges. There are GOLD projects going to a few exotic places next summer, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed - after all, if I'm saving for a wedding and a house then an expensive overseas trip is just what the doctor ordered! On the other hand, I already have SAGGA camp in Sweden, a Guide camp by the seaside, and service crew at a UK camp to look forward to if I'm not selected, so I'm not going to be too gutted if it doesn't work out.

I suspect that this has become a stream of consciousness post which - with my braincell in its addled state - is becoming increasing difficult to follow. I think I'd better just stop

* Well, the duck didn't look too chuffed, but it was well and truly stuffed by that point anyway, so didn't have much say in the matter.

D of E this weekend was good - I got to spend a lot of it in the emergency support minibus, driving the country lanes of the White Peak looking for kiddies and then hurling abuse at them as we passed! Our new motto is "Be good, don't be bad, talk to strangers!" and we're considering getting this printed on the back of hoodie jumpers for all the staff, with "D of E Barmy Army" scrawled across the front. The kids were great (apart from two whingers, who we packed off back to school asap) and I've got a good feeling about D of E this year. Now, though, I'm knackered.

I am disowning My Cat. I've just got in from lunch and discovered her lying on the floor licking her lips, surrounded by feathers. Poor birdy.

Term has only just begun, in relative terms, and I'm exhausted already. Anyone know a good way to stay awake that doesn't involve obscene amounts of caffeine or illegal drugs?

We've had the cats for something like 16 days. I can't remember life without them. What was it like to wake up without loud licking filling the room, or to have breakfast without having to deal with cat poo first? And what did we do without catsnot to laugh at, especially when attached to a catsneeze that leaves the sneezee looking shocked and slightly surprised? They have fitted into life here very easily, and are now bouncing in and out of the windows with consumate ease. We owe the RSPCA a huge favour for letting us take them.

(If you hadn't guessed, I've been drinking and although I could whitter on in a similaar style about my dearly beloved, I'll transfer affection to the cats so you don't throw up on your computer. I'm considerate like that.)

While google-searching for something or other wedding related (as has been my wont these last few days) I discovered a website selling Russian brides. Rob and I spent quite a bit of time looking at the range of goods on offer, and I was going to recommend that you take a look yourself for a quality bit of amusement, but then my spyware scan showed I'd picked up some adware from the site, so my recommendation now is that you steer clear. Mind you, it's better than picking up some virus by meeting them in real life.

In between bits of teaching and Guides, including a manic cleaning session at our Guide hall this afternoon, I've been trying to get my head round getting married. The key requirements are a) some sort of service, so that we are actually hitched; and b) a big party for all the people we want around. Neither is as simple as it sounds. I've spent three days talking weddings with anyone who's not fast enough to run away, have already forgotten who I've told what to, and have basically lost the plot. I've bought a notebook for all those sudden thoughts that happen when you least expect it, like when you're teaching a very mundane topic; Rob's set up at least one spreadsheet; the cats are practising being bridesmaids: it's all go here!

So far, we've made a sort-of decision about location (Repton) and time (February half term or Easter holiday 2006, depending on hall availability), reached some firm agreement about what we like and don't like, and I've made a half-hearted, mouth-open-in-bewilderment attempt to look at wedding dresses online. To be honest, so long as I can wear my new flowery docs under my outfit I'm not too bothered what I wear!

In true geeky style, and following in the footsteps of the King of Geeks and his good lady wife, we've set up a wedding blog. Rob's already dreaming of .pdf documents for people to download from the site while I've been trying to justify buying a good digital camera and a flickr pro account rather than hiring a proper wedding photographer. Even now, at 11.00pm on a Saturday evening, we're sitting on the sofas geeking away. It seems there is no hope for us: we might as well have this wedding online!

Yesterday evening, I got in from school to the news that Rob had bought me a present. He pushed me in the direction of the kitchen and produced a polystyrene box from the fridge. After a brief moment or two (in which I did tea in the House) I then opened the box to discover two large fillets of fish. I know that we buy silly presents for each other, but the fish seemed quite practical - at least it was a present that I could eat. The conversation went something like this:

Me: A fish. How lovely.
Rob: I know. It's a Ling.
Me: Oooh. A Ling. That's very exciting.
Rob: It's a special Ling.
Me: Really?
Rob: I thought it might be an engagement Ling.
Me: An engagement Ling?! [at this point I start to cry and forget to say yes]

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is honestly how it happened. He's nothing if not romantic.

Rob's cat has just done the HUGEST sneeze ever, with catsnot flying everywhere. Sometimes I wonder if children would be easier - at least they eventually learn to blow their own nose.

In other news, teaching is good. D of E is taking up a wee bit of time though.

There have been a number of time-consuming developments in the last few days, not least the need to teach. Preparing lessons is also taking longer than I remember - I'm not quite sure what's happened to my lesson-planning-skills but they've gone AWOL. Damn. I've really lost the plot when it comes to school stuff - I hope I find it before too long!

On Saturday I got caught on duty at the sixth-form social, where they put me in charge of the "dining area"... after all, I am an expert in dining, so well-suited to the job. I would rather have been celebrating the youngness of El Senor Johns, but work sort of took over. I WILL make an effort to get free next weekend.

I got in from school on Saturday morning to be greeted by Rob teling me that we had a viewing of the house at lunchtime. It was lovely. The garden had an orchard section (including apple, pear and damson trees) and a brook at the bottom of the garden. The house was nicely done too: Rob was most impressed by the cellar; I liked the idea of a big roof space. We then spent a fraught weekend trying to work out if we could a) get a mortgage and b) afford to pay it. This required much searching on the internet (my department) and making spreadsheets (Rob's department). We ended up staring at the computer screen for hours, trying to work out if we could live on what was left after mortgage, bills, tax, car loans, broadband... One not-quite-so swift phone call to the mortgage company, some detailed pouring over bank statements, and we worked out that, while we would get the mortgage and could probably afford to pay it back, it might be better to wait 12 months and pay off as many of our loans as possible before attempting house purchase. In a way I'm gutted, as it was a lovely house, but with my sensible head on it seems the only way to avoid repossession. Harrumph for being sensible.

In other news, the cats have ventured outside and survived the ordeal. They've coped admirably with jumping in and out of the windows, and they seem to enjoy having some freedom to wander. They're still un-named as yet, other than "my cat" and "your cat", but they seem very happy, so there's no great pressure to name them.

Discoveries of the day:

I still fit into my suit (just)

I can still remember how to teach

I can sit in the House and use wireless to do geeking while the kiddies are in prep

This house, for sale in the village (there's enough room for cluckers aplenty in that garden)

"This Cat" (as opposed to "That Cat") is sulking. That Cat did a big smelly poo in the litter tray, This Cat refused to use it and so used the hallway, This Cat got shouted at, This Cat is now sulking like a teenager denied her mobile phone.

The girls have only been back a couple of hours and already their pubescent hormones have affected our cats. Waaah! I just hope that Rob remains free from the influence of so much estrogen.

This morning was spent in far more fruitful and meaningful meetings than yesterday, and I feel quite enthused about the impending arrival of the little darlings. I'm off to de-cat-hair myself, and then it's off to make a good impression for the new kiddiwinkles.

This term started today with a whimper - anything approximating the decibels of a bang would just have been too much for my post-drinking head. Instead, I was forcibly woken by a man bearing tea and have just sat through some most bizarre training. A man talked about declining morals and spirituality for quite some time, in a very general sort of way, with little practical guidance or advice; we then had to go off into small groups to discuss the matters further, without really knowing why we were discussing it. It was very odd, and certainly not what my hungover-braincell could cope with first thing on a Tuesday morning. It was nice to move from that into department meeting to talk about normal things with normal people! This afternoon's excitement is training on the new school database, which is bound to be riveting stuff.

I need to get teaching properly as soon as possible. Either that or a holiday.

There's no point having cats if you can't take the mick out of them. This one's got a nice career as a Guider lined up, if the size of her arse is anything to go by:

A fine layer of cat fur covers our sitting room. It seems that the cats have arrived.

Today I shall be mostly being distracted by cricket.

This is very amusing. You need the sound on to appreciate it fully. I think they're moving to the top of the "pets to get" list.

One of the best things about hot Ribena as a drink is that, when you put your mug down and forget to drink it, it's just as nice cold. If only tea were so amenable.

In other news, yet another nice RSPCA lady phoned and THE CATS ARE OURS!!!!!! (We'll pick them up on Monday after our weekend camping)

Rob (being the cautious, sensible one in this relationship) has suggested restraint and control, by waiting to actually get the cats before trying to name them. I, on the other hand, am impetuous and impatient and lots of other things beginning with 'imp' and couldn't resist thinking about suitable pairs of names. The following list is a fair reflection of the warped suggestions spewing from my braincell, and is probably more evidence in the growing list of 'reasons why I shouldn't be allowed to have children'.

Dog and Mouse
Puddy and Tat
Hugh and Jamie (and Fatso could become Queen Delia)
Fearnley and Whittingstall
Eric and Ernie
Gonorrhea and Herpes (as a tribute to King Lear's daughters, of course)
Pox and Clap
Virus and Trojan
Gig and Meg (Gig being the bigger cat)
Firewire and Bluetooth

...at which point we collapsed into uber-geekiness, and I knew it had to end when 'Universal Serial Bus' was suggested, although - as Rob pointed out - they ARE big enough to be buses. All we need now is a phone-call to confirm that they are actually going to be ours, and my overexuberant excitment will know no bounds. Raaah.

Cats...

Maisie:





Mandy:





Any suggestions on the names front?!

Cat naming...

The only drawback of our cats is that they are called Mandy and Maisy. Neither are cat names, but I suppose that I can live with Maisy. However, I never expected to have a cat called Mandy. Given that the cats are both 10, it's going to be a battle to change their names; I thought it might help if the new names at least rhymed. My initial attempt with Maisy was Lazy... but Mandy became Randy. Not so good, especially for a neutered adult.

We spent much of the weekend trying to think of alternatives that weren't Randy. Emma and Jenny suggested Ghandi, which we like, but does that mean that Maisie has to become Mahatma? Or another peace icon, such as Martin Luther King? It doesn't help that I can't remember which coloured cat is which: I might need to go back to the shelter and get photos of the beasties. I could then open it up to the collective intelligence of the blogworld... you're bound to have much better ideas than I've got!

The RSPCA lady phoned me this morning, at a time when I should have been awake but wasn't. Through my first-woken blur I heard, "I'm in the area to do another visit - I'll come and see you at the same time. It'll definitely be before lunch." If there's one thing guaranteed to wake you up it's the knowledge that a complete stranger - on whom pet ownership is dependent - is coming to visit your flat. In my frantic running-round-tidying, I identified a nasty smell in the kitchen and tracked it down to the veg box. What happens if I'm banned from keeping pets because I can't even look after vegetables?

They've just been round. I gave them such strong coffee that hopefully they didn't notice the smell of squishy brown broccoli. They seemed quite happy and we talked about using the windows as an exit to the outside world: they were of the impression, as Dr Tom was, that the cats would train us quite quickly to let them back in. That's one less thing to worry about.

Now the lady has to make a report to the centre ("I really can't see any problems at all" I hope) and then they contact us to arrange collection. It's all scarily sudden, but as Rob and I have spent all weekend going "CATS!" at each other, it's probably not before time. All we have to worry about now is procurring cat carriers and the slightly thorny issue of naming, of which more later, once I've drunk some tea and managed to eat breakfast.

Still no dog, but got two cats instead!!! As Rob said, it's better than getting crabs.

Technically we haven't GOT them yet, as we're dependent on an RSPCA home inspection, but the nice lady has put a 'reserved' sticker on them* and they should soon be ours! They're both girls from the same home, and are very purry and furry. They're also MONSTER-sized - the nice RSPCA lady put them both in one carry cage and then got a hernia trying to shift them: they've got a lot to live up to with Fatso as a role model.

*Technically, the sticker is on the cage not the cats, but I suspect that most of you aren't pedantic enough to care

No dog. C'est la vie.

Amy asked about the indoors tent. They are our new patrol tents for Guides - they sleep 5 comfortably and 6 at a push. We put this particular tent up indoors because we needed to know how big it was, it was raining outside and we had a common room just waiting to be filled with tent. Well, the common room wasn't strictly *waiting* to be filled with tent, but it soon was full anyway! The girls in the House helped us to pitch it. This may be because they love us, but was probably because the tent was blocking their view of the TV. Either way, we thought it was big enough and bought another four!

I've just noticed that the reverse side of the poem piece of paper says:

Farming Fun for everyone which you can take home

. I've got NO idea what THAT's about. My Guides are weirder than I thought, and that's saying something.

Underneath the BIIIIG pile of paperwork I've been sorting today, I discovered this little ditty. It was written by my Guides as part of a challenge: "write a poem about one of the leaders"

Her name is Mad
She's never sad
She's very strong
and never goes wrong
She would make us smile
If she fell over a stile
Mad is chatty
But never ratty
That's our leader MAD!

It worries me what a warped impression they have. How wrong can they be....!

I've just spoken to a man about a dog. Maybe I'll get to share my flat with someone else too. Good job that dogs don't take up as much room as Robs.

At New Year, we played a game that involved writing statements on bit of paper and then giving them to the person in the room who best matched the description on the paper. In my inebriated state (yes, shock horror) I decided that it would be a good idea to keep the bits of paper that were given to me. I thought I'd thrown them out long ago, but in tidying up my bedroom just now I found the following:

The person least likely to get up in the morning

The person most likely to get carpet burns tonight

and

The person most likely to sit on a fish

It's strange how well people know me. Now, where did I put that kipper...

A-level results are done and dusted for another year. They were mostly pleasing, with some stars; one or two didn't quite make it. On the basis of this morning's revelations, I don't think I'll be sacked just yet. Still, it's GCSE results next week, so I'm not holding my breath.

There's been some bizarre blooping noise outside for a while, but it was masked neatly by the sound of the radio. Now I've come to listen more closely, I've realised that it's a Bloop Test fitness thingy, being broadcast at high volume across the school fields. I can only attribute it to the conference using the school's facilities at the moment, although if I'd paid to go on a conference and had to do a bloop test I'd be throwing a major hissy fit by now. Sadist conference leaders.

I'm not doing very well when it comes to glasses at the moment. By glasses, I mean spectacles, rather than beverage-holding vessels, which present me with few problems on the whole. I dropped and stood on my best/most recent pair of glasses a few weeks ago, snapping one of the threads that hold the lens in place. I tried to use the lens as a monocle but couldn't get my face to squint up right. I therefore made an appointment to go to the glasses doctor, which was quite fortuitous as yesterday I fell asleep on my second-best pair of glasses and bent them beyond recognition too. Luckily the spec-lady today sorted them out: pair two were scrunched with pliers until they complied with her bending wishes; I've ordered a new set of frames for pair one. Tomorrow I should be able to see again without squinting - it'll make a pleasant change.

To make up for my lack of sight, I decided to indulge my other senses, particularly those of smell and taste. I've made a blueberry and apple pie (cooking merrily as I write); a blueberry yoghurt thickie (I had to use the left-over fruit filling somehow); and I've got a mango stir-fry planned for dinner tonight. I may end this holiday able to see again and slightly more tanned than I was, but I may not be able to fit into any of my clothes. Still, it's a price I'm prepared to pay.

After a week of any camp, I feel the need to sleep for a month. This is particularly true of a SAGGA camp that involves both manual work knee-deep in mud and late nights laughing at others trying to Su-Doku through a drunken haze. The cricket went on at 10.20am yesterday (hurrah for wireless internet allowing in-bed cricketing) and I listened, read and slept for the entire day. I'd intended to get up before Rob got home from work but I failed. I felt much better for it.

Camp was good and it was great to catch up with friends. Some of the children have grown scarily quickly, but other things don't seem to have changed; old routines fitted like a glove, albeit a glove with something lumpy at the end of one finger that niggles but is too minor to bother about changing. It's not possible to pick highlights of the week - there was so much I enjoyed - but the photos are on flickr.

Today has been spent tidying up, trying to sort out camping things, laundry, paperwork and school things. There are two weeks left of this holiday: I've got a lot to organise before then.

I got back from Peak this morning, and have spent much of the rest of the day recovering. As expected, the week involved a lot of cooking (of which, more later) and standing in queues for the toilet. The girls had a fantastic time and are buzzing with excitement about the next camp. We've even talked about taking them abroad, although in 2007 rather than next year. My Guides were great, particularly my two young leaders, and I am proud of every single one of them. I'm sure that there were the usual fallings-out and arguments, but they never got as far as me, so that suits me fine.

Jen and I QM'ed the camp together. Although she has done a lot of camp cooking together, I've not QM'ed properly since I was 17. Despite this, we worked very well together and I realised that I know more about cooking than I thought I did. However, there have also been small learning moments - did you know that 5kg of pasta is about right for 40 people, plus a bit extra for seconds? Or that Guides can be persuaded to eat cous-cous by describing it as 'mini-pasta'?

My favourite moment of the whole camp was the arrival of the food inspector to check our kitchen (an inspection probably brought on by the incidence of food poisoning that kept an entire troop quarantined on their sub-camp for 36 hours). I was outside washing up while Jen was inside supervising girls who were chopping food for lunch. The inspector arrived, took one look at the kitchen and said, "Ah, labelled coloured chopping boards, anti-bacterial spray and soap, blue food gloves, different coloured cloths... you're fine." There wasn't really much he could have argued with!

Tomorrow I head off north for SAGGA camp. I feel bad abandoning Rob again, but he's got a proper job and I'm a lazy slacker. He moved in two weeks ago and I've already been away for 8 days: I'm obviously not much cop as a girlfriend. Hopefully he's finding enough to keep him amused in my absence. Better go and get packing... have fun!

I've shopped today and now I've dropped. Damn gravity. It's hard to believe that this time tomorrow I'll be on camp - it seems to have sneaked up when I wasn't looking. There's a lot of washing and packing to do before then, and I'd better re-waterproof my waterproofs if the beeb's weather forecast is anything to go by. We got all the tents out this morning - piles and piles of canvas and tables - and discovered all sorts of things lurking at the back of the camping cupboard. I just hope we've got everything, or it could be a long trip back to pick up the forgotten items...

After CMT's recommendation, I phoned the man at Pumpkin Organic this morning, and he delivered our first veg box this evening! Very exciting it was too, including fennel, carrots, radishes, spring onions, and some random green leaved things that we can't identify but are probably spinach. What with this evening's vegetable curry, I feel smug and healthy, although the chocolate pudding probably cancelled out any Brownie points I'd earned from the first course! Off to collapse in a heap and digest...

Preparations for Guide camp roll on apace. I am now the proud owner of cleaning materials ad infinitum, plus a new dustbin. I know that I should be taking advantage of the sales in all of the major high street clothes retailers, but somehow I can't force myself to cross the threshold: I dispair of having new clothes in time for the start of term. Instead, I'll have to make do with anti-bacterial spray, which I have in abundance. I'm not sure it's a good way of covering errant flesh but at least I'll be clean.

Today, I have been mostly wearing flour, accessorised with raw cake mix dried in a smear up my face. Although my Guides would be horrified ("That's got raw egg in it, Mad, you might DIE") I do so love raw cake mix. In fact, I'd quite happily scrape bowls for a living. Sadly, it's not a well-paid job and has devastating effects on the waistband, so seems to be unlikely to rate as one of my all-time-top-ten suitable jobs, but even so the idea's tempting.

In between baking, I've also built and filled a CD rack, and tidied the computer corner so that it's possible to use the scanner without having to dig through layers of important-yet-mislaid paperwork. However, being my usual self, the tidied up corner is beautifully clutter-free, but all the clutter was just moved to the windowsill alongside. It's the chaos theory of tidying: you move the clutter from one place to another, and eventually it all disappears. Miraculous. I'm not so sure that Rob's converted to this wonderful scheme, but he has plenty of time to get used to it. He seems to be coping so far and he's still unpacking boxes, so it looks like he's intending staying for a while. He's obviously more foolish than I thought.

On Friday we head off to Peak 2005, an international camp for Scouts and Guides held slightly further north in the county. We're taking 40 people; there should be 6,000 in total. What this means, however, is that I've got to do some rapid organising about food - I've made some half-hearted attempts, but haven't actually *done* much yet. Today, therefore, is a day to do preparation: there are 40 portions of sticky-toffee pudding to make; a vegetable curry to try out; and mug trees to complete (hopefully without the evil blister that I got last time). Have fun!

Wireless interneting means being able to listen to music online while sitting in bed. I sense a whole new dimension to my holiday pastimes.

And now sitting on my bed, where I have a signal strength of 'Excellent'... blogging has just entered a whole new dimension. Excellent it certainly is. It's pretty damn good having Rob here too. *happy contented sigh*

And now I'm in the kitchen, with the pooter resting on the cooker (the table is full of Rob's stuff - he's moved in at last)

I'm sitting on my sofa writing this bloggage, a good ten foot away from where I normally sit for such spoddery. Yup, my Saturday evening has been spent geeking, but the wireless network is installed, security features are turned on, and I am very happy. But also sad. At least, that's what you're thinking, so I might as well admit to it.

But I get a nice blue light on my laptop when it's wirelessing, so that makes it all ok.

The prize for the most ridiculously stupid computer instruction manual goes to Belkin for their effort with the wireless router. Utter shit. I've missed the best part of an hour of cricket because of it. B'stards.

I'm beginning to regret volunteering to make new mug trees for Guide camp. Admittedly it's mindless work, allowing me to listen to Test Match Special, but it's made a huge blister on my right index finger. I have 50 hooks to screw into broom staves and I've done eight so far; I'm bored already. Perhaps I ought to tidy up instead: Rob moves in tomorrow. Yikes. At the moment, it looks like he's going to be sleeping on the sitting room floor surrounded by A10 catering tins of beans and rice pudding and piles of D of E paperwork. Good job he's a tolerant blokey.

England all out, they haven't done as frighteningly badly as they could have done. Pieterson was great. Time for a new innings. I can see today slipping away in the way that yesterday did.

How crap can phishing spammers be? I've just had a "your account will be suspended" type email from Barclyes Bank. D'oh!

The England team are doing frighteningly badly, after such a promising start. Youch.

THE AUSSIES ARE ALL OUT!!!!!!!! Raah!

I came back from Rob's yesterday, with a car full of boxes and bags, a new pie dish, and - joy of joys - a wireless router. Raaah! I've been resisting opening the box containing the router because a) it will distract me; and b) Rob's the geek, so he can set it all up. Either way, within 72 hours, I'll have several more boxes, plus a man in my flat. Eeek. Better get on with some tidying up so there's room to squeeze him in. The Ashes commentary is making this a far less tedious task than it could be.

Listening to the Ashes while trying to write letters, school documents, and blog entries is a good way of guaranteeing sentences that read as, "A business is an organisation that is nicely bowled by Flintoff and - ooh - it's just gone between the pad and the glove." I'll just have to stop working.

Can anyone recommend good farm shops or vegetable box schemes (preferably organic) in Derbyshire or its environs? Even the mighty google is failing me. Had better go and whip my banana cake out of the oven before it burns...

Superficial tidying up has turned into deep-layer paperwork sorting. It's not been a pretty job. Mind you, I *have* discovered a sofa sitting under a pile of junk, so that's a bonus, as another of my sofas is full of food in preparation for this summer's Guide camp and I was getting a little short of bum space.

As if I don't have enough CDs already, I just ordered a new album from New Zealand, of all places. Even with postage, it's still cheaper than many CDs here. It's a barmy world.

One of the best things about school holidays is that I can sleep for as long as I want in the morning, without worry about missing first lesson. In fact, the absence of a rigid routine is a blessing in its own right: I can even get away without wearing a watch. It takes a while for me to snap out of 'wake up early' mode, but once I'm in touch with my inner sleeper I feel capable of sleeping for Britain in 2012. Today I even managed to wake up, finish reading the book I started last night, and then fall back to sleep - it's like the triple jump for somnambulists.

Another good thing about the holidays is time: time to potter about; time to be with friends; time to spend more than just a rushed weekend with the Boy Wonder. I've even managed to go shopping: CDs, books, a new pair of shorts... it's all excitement here. I've even found time to tidy up my flat, albeit to find bits of paperwork that have become lost under piles of other paperwork and camping equipment.

However, in a week and a half, my flat stops being mine. Everything, from spices to furniture, becomes 'ours'. Rob has got a job up here and moves in next weekend. While this pleases me intensely it's also a tad scary: how the hell am I meant to squeeze him into a flat where every nook and cranny is jammed full of my clutter? Being ruthless is the only way, I fear. Goodbye to those jeans that I might, one day, be able to fit into again - I bought them when I was 17 and there's years of wear left in them. Tarra to back issues of Private Eye that I was keeping for the cartoons. Farewell to drawers full of old socks that only get worn at the extreme end of a laundry crisis. In the grand scheme of things, I think it will be good for me.

Damn. That's tha phrase I use when trying to persuade the kids to do something that's going to be tough and hard work. I've been a teacher too long.

At least I've not described it as 'character forming' yet.

Reporting, cleaning, packing, end-of-terming, and D of E-ing are all finished. I have new thermarest and new hair. Other than that, things are quite dull and holiday-relaxing-like. More later.

D of E tomorrow. Too much caffeine today. Lacking the ability to sleep. Pish.

I'm hoping that Si has just solved my blog template problem - it's something to do with float alignment, I suspect, which I would have associated more with coarse fishermen than blogging, but it just shows you can't have everything.

Maps found - they had been 'sorted' by a person who thought they were being helpful. Bastard. I'll kick their ankles next time I see them. Other than that, things on the to-do list are being ticked off slowly. I'm off to buy some tents now.

Here comes the rain with a gutteral murmering of thunder and the occasional flicker of lightening. The temperature's falling but it's not making me feel any better. The maps are still missing and the font's still wrong. I contemplated changing the template of the blog, but couldn't face the faffing involved with it, and didn't want my page to be a clone of everyone else's. Guess it's a job to tackle in the holidays. Only 3 days to go, and then 4 days of expedition, and then I can get enough sleep to be a normal human being again. I'm counting every second.

I'm having problems with blogger changing the font of my posts without warning. I've done some hunting and I think it's all down to this cheeky little bit of code that's popping up without being asked:

div style="clear:both;"

If you know how to get rid of it, please tell me - there's nothing obvious in my template, and it's well above my normal level of geeking. Ta.

Good: finished report writing for the term.
Bad: trying to entertain kids who have just 3 days of term left and no real incentive to do anything
Good: Knowing that this time on Saturday I'll be off on Duke of Edinburgh expedition
Bad: realising that I've lost the entire roll of maps for the area. That's 16 maps. And we're meant to be using them to walk with. The only word for this situation rymes with 'rollocks'. If you spot a set of sheet 98 1:50,000 OS maps then please send them my way. Waaah.

It's rock and roll here, but very busy. More later, when I'm not teaching.

Whoops. Tonight was meant to be an early night but I forgot to go to bed. Arse. I *did* make a quite reasonable lasagne and drink some nice wine, and now I'm eating the nicest amaretti biscuits this side of Italy. I can already tell that tomorrow's going to be a day for an elasticated waistband.

From K comes the musical baton.

Total volume of music files on my computer?
Eurm. Dunno. iTunes says that I have 35 songs, but some of those are mp3s of Eddie Izzard and Weebl and Bob, plus assorted online radio. I'm not really a music on my computer type of person.

The last CD I bought was?
Mrs Cruff, by Mr Scruff. At least I think it was - it's been too long to remember!

Song playing right now?
Nowt - I'm invigilating an exam. Fret not, it's only an internal exam for a group of 7 first years... hardly taxing stuff!

Five songs I listen to a lot/mean a lot to me?
Yikes - too many to choose from! Some favourites include:

• I'm in the mood for dancing by The Nolans (memories of university nights out come flooding back every time I hear that)
  
• Shanty Town by Mr Scruff
  
• God only knows by the Beach Boys (Fatso likes that one too - he squeaks along in time)
  
• The Wild Rover... for all those drunken evenings spent sitting round a campfire!
  
• That one that goes "la la doo bee doo bee la" but I can't remember its name. Damn. I'm singing it in my head though: be thankful this isn't an audio-blog!
  

The musical baton goes on to Rob, Andy, Amy, Fraser and Mal, provided I don't fumble it and drop it by the side of the running track.

Off now to puzzle over which music I *really* should have put here and to try and remember the name of that damned song!

Loads of photos from the last week here, includng screwing, buddies, water games, shoes, and the ball. Enjoy.

Last night's Guide meeting was one of the most productive yet relaxed meetings we've had in a long while. They started with the annual review - what have you enjoyed most this year? how can your patrol work even better next year? - and then we hand painted a giant buddy for Send My Friend. This left us with a good 45 minutes in which to play water games that - whoops! - turned into a full-blown water fight. We didn't see that one coming at all, yer honour! The best moment was when our unit helper (a recently recruited mum who's never been a leader before) grabbed a bucket and tipped it straight over my assistant Guider's head. Chortle? You bet!!

After a quick rush home and a change out of slightly damp uniform, it was off to a party where there was wine, melt-in-the-mouth cake and good friends. Sadly it was cut short by the need to be on late-night duty, but it was nice to get out. Now, though, I'm knackered. Thank goodness sixth-formers can be understanding about Saturday morning bleariness.

Oh aye, I forgot. I had to go to Rainbows tonight. Damn little bouncy things in their little purple tabard things. Ribena-berries, every one of 'em. Pah, give me Guides any day.

Oh fuck. I go and watch cricket, drink wine and get the worst hiccups in the world ever. I'm sure it's very amusing to watch but it's not really funny, in the grand scheme of things. Unless your grand scheme of things include people going "wauch" and shrugging their shoulders dramatically, in which case you're well away. In any case, the cricket was between some of my colleagues and a local team, and we won. Not, of course, that I can lay any claim to the success (although I *did* teach economics to one of the star batsman). Of all of it, the only photo I managed to get was this:




The focus is pants; my phone camera may be good but it's not *that* good!

Last night, after my last dyslexing session ever, I came home via the Swedish furnishing shop. No shelf units this time, just more boxes to put on the shelves and a magazine rack for the girls. They'd requested it as a way of sharing magazines, rather than all buying all of them. Obviously, being the intellectual darlings that they are, their reading material consists of Cosmo, Heat, Hello, Now and other assorted shit. Oh, and one girl buys wedding magazines. She's 15. She says that she likes the pictures and she showed me her collection of wedding dress pictures that she'd cut from the magazines and stuck into a folder. In my caring tutor role, I advised her never to show (or even mention) the folder to anyone she fancies; I though that was quite subtle.

Anyhoooo, back to the magazine rack. I'd bought a clothy-baggy-racky-item from the aforementioned Swedish furnishing emporium, so we spent this evening after prep building the thing. Two fifteen year old girls, Jen (the matron) and myself, armed with two screwdrivers, whipped out the instructions and spent the next twenty minutes pissing ourselves laughing about jokes involving screwing and erecting. Minds like sewers, the lot of us! A good chortle does everyone good, even when the conversation veered off towards children's names - Tennis, Magistrate, Netball - and then into the Spanish Inquisition for Jen, who has four children with names beginning with the letter J. After such frivolity, I'm surprised that I'm still employed. It's a good job that the headmaster wasn't wandering round the House, or the P45 would be in my pigeonhole by now.

I'm in shock. We had a meeting today with all of our Year 10 kids (4th years in real money, or A-block in our idiosyncratic nomenclature) to discuss their options for Wednesday afternoons next year. They have to do something, whether it's CCF, adventurous activities, or D of E silver. I did a small whitter about the award, the CCF man talked about the other options, and then they filled in their provisional choices on a sheet. D of E was first choice for 55 of them. FIFTY FIVE!!!! We have 31 kids this year, and that's the biggest the group's ever been; we've obviously made it too attractive. Pish. How on earth do you run expeditions for 55 participants at a time? I know for a fact that we've not got that many cookers, let alone tents. And what about administering it all - there will be forms falling out of my ears. Waaah! This job has just got interesting.

I don't think I said good things or did things that will make me popular, at least not amongst the organising committee for the Guide hall, but I feel purged. Off now to get some kip. G'night.

The village seems to have been hit by an ice age. Everywhere is full of shivering children, desperate to take advantage of the summer 'no-tie' uniform but paying the price of hypothermia instead. I'd like to say that the weather was better over the weekend but - apart from a brief excursion to Tesco, and an enforced march to chapel - I didn't really make it outside at all.

Partly this was due to the presence of the Boy Rob, lots of food and some cookery books. My lack of adventure was also linked to a weekend on duty in the House, looking after wee girlies who spent much of their time gazing manically into space jibbering about impending exams. The UK's assessment system is a joke.

Today was the start of A2 teaching for those lower sixth who have finished their exams. Getting them motivated was easier than I'd expected, although I overheard a colleague explaining in no uncertain terms why we teach now instead of letting them slacken off. He reduced it to money terms, which was a bit of a shocker: I'd not thought of it it in that way before. A new day, a new perspective.

Tonight is a committee meeting for the organisation who run the Guide hall - it's bound to be long, boring and I am guaranteed to upset people with the questions I'm oging to ask. Hey ho, c'est la vie.

I've just been given a CD of photos by a boy in my Silver Duke of Edinburgh group, and had to put the best onto flickr straight away. They're pictures from last month's expedition, and they're really made my day. Although I'm very fond of the shot of them all paddling through a stream, my favourite is the shot of this boy's group as they reach Kinder Scout's plateau: it's the expression of relief and achievement that makes it so special. I'm quite touched at how much they enjoyed it; if I'm not careful I'm going to blub. Bless.

It's a funny time of year. The kids are manically working away, striving to squeeze every last minute's worth of work from their days, lurching from one exam to another. From my point of view, though, it's a slack time. Admittedly there's the occasional invigilation, but a lot of normal lessons have become independent revision lessons: the kids choose their own priorities and work with little guidance from me. As a result, I've spent the last two days writing reports, hindered only by random questions, and not all to do with economics/business, either.

Them: If you're multiplying two fractions, can you divide down going across, or just diagonally?
Me: Eurm. Dunno.
Them: What years was Regan president?
Me: Eurm. Dunno.
Them: What happened at Little Rock?
Me: Eurm. Dunno.
Them: Do you know anything?
Me: Eurm. Dunno.

Personally, I blame it on the sun. It was glorious yesterday; so much so that I gave up on report-writing and headed out to a comfy bench and watched a couple of hours of cricket. It was the annual prep school cricket competition, and no player was over the age of 11. I normally watch school's first XI, so it was a bit of a shocker to see all these wee boys running round. Even more amusing were the parents, proudly watching their darling offspring and trying to out-do each other with competitive point scoring: "Our Henrietta's just started a medical degree at Birmingham" "Only at Birmingham? Charles is in his second year at Oxford, you know". Social schmoozing sucks. Let's hope I never turn out like that.

Last night was my duty night, so I spent it upstairs in the matron's flat. Our Matron, Jen, is also my assistant Guider, and the two of us are doing the QMing for summer camp. Trying to work out the quantities of cheese needed for 40 people's worth of tacos was amusing, but slightly brain-numbing. At least that's all done now - just shopping lists to type up, equipment to buy, and we're ready to go!

A barely relevant dyslexing session segued straight into an over-long mentor training for Guides, and I then returned home to find men and a van doing things to the drains. All the windows I'd left open to air the flat had done their job too well and I shall be sleeping in the heady aroma of drain-air tonight. Nice.

Virus schmirus. Someone out there's got wee bugs in their mail system and I'm getting all sort of doom-laden messages. Thank goodness for virus checkers!

Little did the Boy Rob realise, when he arrived on Friday evening just gone, what excitment lay in store this weekend. Not only was there Chinese food and beer, but also a trip to a Swedish furniture shop and a puzzle over how to fit it all in the Boringmobile. Luckily, he's an adaptable sort of mug guy, and took it all in his stride, and even pretended to enjoy erecting shelves on a Saturday night when he could have been out drinking. The shelf units came in boxes that are exactly two centimetres shorter than the distance from the front windscreen to the back windscreen when laid on the tops of seats in a Golf, and necessitated very VERY careful driving back on the motorway: rarely do I willingly set the cruise control at 50mph!

The finished units are fantastic. One has gone into the sitting room to replace an old sideboard acquired by my mother when I first moved here - the sideboard's contents have gone into storage boxes that fill just the bottom shelf, so there's plenty of room for my book collection to continue expanding! The other shelves, far more bijou in all directions, have gone into the kitchen to hold pans, plates, and other assorted cooking type gubbins. I now have a far emptier work surface and two emptier cupboards: time to start filling them with more junk, methinks!

The erection* was interspersed with cooking and eating, including a pudding experiment, a pancake experiment and a steak experiment. The first was good and the latter two were moderately successful, with futher research being planned. I like cooking. Sadly my waistband is starting to show this: time to get back to the healthy eating, I think!

* of shelves, of course. What did you think I meant?

Each day, a sheet of notices is sent to each House carrying information such as "Strings, oboes and harpsichord at 6.15pm" or "U14A cricketers in nets at 4.30pm". Today's notices read "Inter-House relays today 4.30pm unless it rains this afternoon". However, I've just meandered back from lessons through very gentle drizzle to meet a crowd of over-excited pupils. "Miss, Miss, we've spent all afternoon praying and singing, and now it's raining!" I was told, in no uncertain terms. To reinforce the effect, they even did a little rain dance. By the time I'd reached my front door the drizzle was thickening slightly, and cheers echoed from every window.

I'm not saying that they're slackers - after all, I would have been the first pleading for the intervention of some divine being in such circumstances - but I'm impressed by their commitment to their cause. Perhaps I should pay them not to pray or rain dance during the summer holidays: that way I might get a dry Guide camp!

Friday lunchtimes are great. I have no commitments, so can crash in my flat for an hour to gain some respite from the day. Mind you, I'm not exactly in need of respite just now: exams are looming ever closer, so the wee kiddies are spending every lesson revising, which is hardly taxing in the grand scheme of things. I also had a good lesson with a GCSE group today talking about motivation; they were - dare I say it? - almost motivated, and are now armed with corporate-babble terms to describe their teachers' management styles. This afternoon will be more of the same, and then perhaps some rounders... it's a hard life!

Rob was so desperate to get away from me taking photos that he tried to hide in the foliage.

Blogging pictures direct from flickr is making my fonts go all funny. Not sure this is the way to go. Until I can get it sorted out, this is my flickr page of photos.

The Boy Rob

The Boy Rob
Originally uploaded by Planet Mad.

This new camera's great - it does videos, zooms, and also does extreme close up. No bad for a mobile phone! Rock n roll!

After a weekend spent poncing, driving, drinking, boogying, snogging, snoring, waking, grumbling, driving, lounging, throwing sticks, taking photos, eating, lounging, reading, sleeping, struggling to wake, visiting, eating, driving, eating, sleeping, and driving, I got back here at 11 o'clock this morning. I have oodles of lovely pictures - my new phone has a fab camera - and I now have a spinny head and will have all the delights of a hangover tomorrow. This may be related to the number of chelsea buns I ate, but is more likely linked to the number of glasses of wine I've drunk. Tut tut, and on a school night too. How discraceful.

Tomorrow I'll try to get my head round this 'putting photos on web' malarky, but it's something that a slightly drununky braincell won't cope with. For now, then, g'night.