Oh dear. My, my. Why do I always fancy the most inappropriate people?

It's not the difficulty of covering half the distance that's the problem, but the fact that it has to do this an infinite number of times. Ignoring the proper answer that these take infinitely less time to do, it's much easier to invoke quantum mechanics and say "oh sod it, I'm there". Dr Tom PhD

I feel enlightened.

Ah - found it: Small Gods, p.157.

"A very useful philosophical animal, your average tortoise. Outrunning metaphorical arrows, beating hares in races... very handy."

So there! :-)

As I recall it, there's a famous philosopher who decided that it was logically impossible to shoot an arrow into a target because firstly the arrow would travel half the distance, and then half the remaining distance, then half the remaining distance and so on, never actually reaching its destination beause there's always another half-distance to go. I suspect the bloke was a Greek, but I'm not certain; I'm sure there are others out there who can confirm this. Regardless of who he was and where he came from, his theory seems to apply to my pile of marking, which gets smaller by the hour but never seems to go away completely.

(For all the Pratchett fans out there, the arrow paradox features in one of the Discworld books, but I can't remember which one... I fear that a surfeit of tea has addled my braincell)

Thanks to Jett Superior, on whose site I found this excellent link.

It's my weekend on duty in the House this weekend. Normally these weekends are fraught with crises and trauma. This weekend - so far, touch wood - has been easy going. The only downsides have been missing what was (no doubt) a cracking surprise party for K, and losing my Sunday morning lie-in because of chapel. Whilst chapel does provide me with the ideal opportunity to ponce about in my academic hood and gown (just like here, but minus the elephant!), it does start rather earlier than I like to get up. Today I spent much of the service wondering why some hymn-writers try to rhyme words like "lamb" and "acclaim", and then got caught out trying to sing the hymns so the words *did* rhyme. Something makes me suspect that I'm a bad influence.

Apologies to any who happened to be drinking whilst clicking on the link to Ash's site... no, really - I *am* sorry, but cannot be held responsible for damage caused by a fine spray of sparkling mineral water (or other beverage) coming into contact with computer equipment. Soz and all that. (Said in most sincerest voice)

Ashley does it again. Bwah-ha-ha!! That's made my day!

And another one that eluded my memory for a moment, as taught to me by Mr Frost, my form tutor at secondary school:

To amuse
Emus
On a warm summer's night

Kiwis
Do wee-wees
From a spectacular height.

National Poetry Day

At 3 a.m.

the room contains no sound
except the ticking of the clock
which has begun to panic
like an insect, trapped
in an enormous box

Books lie open on the carpet.

Somewhere else
you're sleeping
and beside you there's a woman
who is crying quietly
so you won't wake.

(By Wendy Cope)


Conviction

I like to get off with people,
I like to lie in their arms,
I like to be held and tightly kissed,
Safe from all alarms.

I like to laugh and be happy
With a beautiful beautiful kiss,
I tell you, in all the world,
There is no bliss like this.

(by Stevie Smith)


Come Back

Come back often and take hold of me,
sensation that I love, come back and take hold of me -
when the body's memory revives
and an old longing passes through the blood,
when lips and skin remember
and hands feel as though they touch again.

Come back often, take hold of me in the night
when lips and skin remember...

(by C. P. Cavafy)

The trip to and from London was great: the Madmobile took us merrily on our way to Luton where we caught the train into the heart of the Big Smoke. The wandering around London was mighty fine: the sun was shining, the streets were busy but not heaving and we walked from Russell Square to Covent Garden, giving Tim the chance to revisit some of his old haunts. The course, on the other hand, was dire: 'How to Teach Economics Effectively' delivered in the least effective way I have ever seen employed. Even the appalling lectures we used to get during teacher training were not a patch on this - poorly prepared, rambling, dry, irrelevant. It did, however, spawn lots of useful discussion about effective in-service training and we planned an entire day of workshop sessions on *useful* topics, thereby creating more work for our long-suffering head of department to implement!

"Miss, do you have any scales?"
"I've got kitchen scales - is that any use?"
"No - it's for biology. I have to weigh myself, have a bath and then weigh myself again."
"Ah. Right. I see."
"I'd ask Jen or Mrs C, but they might think I'm weird."
[raised eyebrow]
"Well - you think I'm weird anyway, so it doesn't matter if I ask you!"

Taking a day off for a jolly... ahem, I mean... a serious academic course is always far more work than it's worth. It's always a challenge to set work that my classes can do with minimal involvement by the cover teacher, who has invariably been press-ganged into covering and will therefore bring with them a big pile of marking, a weary sigh and a sudden intolerance for any sort of noise.

What's worse is trying to decide what to wear: jeans? smart casual? suit? PVC and kinky thigh boots? Whatever I choose is bound to be inappropriate. (To be fair, the kinky thigh boots are almost certain to be inppropriate, regardless of the situation. Mind you, it's nice to have the option, should I be feeling a little controversial) At the moment, though, it seems my entire wardrobe is in the laundry room, so my outfit tomorrow will depend greatly on the drying properties of the different fabrics, which could be interesting!

The other conundrum associated with going out for the day is travel. £88 for a train from Derby? Drive for an hour to get to Rugby then get the train for £66? Drive to somewhere just north of London and get the train? It's a teaser indeed. I suspect that we're going to take the car and a book of maps and I'm going to drive and drive and drive until Tim says, "STOP," at which point we'll catch the train: it's going to be an adventure!

Bon voyage!

At the last minute, I've been asked to go on a course in London tomorrow. I've lots of preparation to do, and not much time in which to do it. Why does life never run to plan?

Tonight's Guide division meeting was made bearable only by the fact that I slept the sleep of a thousand dead between 2.10pm (when my head hit the pillow) and 5.00pm (when I was rudely awakened by my alarm clock). Although long, the meeting was not a contender for the Most Dull Meeting of the Year award; put another way, at least I didn't actually fall asleep in it.

Now I'm trying to figure out what work I *really* have to do before tomorrow (writing two articles for the school's newsletter, I think - the marking can wait!) while drinking hot ribena, listening to Nina Simone and appreciating the heating (it's a tad chilly out!) While I procrastinate, the spam filter is busy at work - 161 rejected so far, and still at it... at least someone's working on Planet Mad!

Sunday saw the arrival of The Repton Challenge for Prep Schools (overall co-ordinator and general stress-head: yours truly). 94 pre-teen kids descended, including two lil darlings who were suffering some form of contagious lurgy which involved puking and quick dashes off to the bogs. Nice. 8 hours later they'd all gone again, in which time they'd made fan-driven cars (very fast and scary), written a powerpoint presentation and accompanying music *and* done an art display for their product. 'Twas a tad busy. In addition, the other co-ordinator has been off school since the beginning of term, so I ended up doing two people's jobs... not good for well-being and general de-stressed-ness. Still, it seemed to go well, which makes up for the lack of sleep and the horrible "wide-awake at 5.30am fretting about writing to-do lists" feelings of the last week.

Yesterday saw me heading off to London to play background music with the string orchestra at the school's old boy/girl dinner. We had a great day, including a luxury coach trip, fantastic food (duck a l'orange, no less!) and great company from the kids. I have a nasty feeling that there are some dodgy photos from the back of the coach doing the rounds already, but for once I am safe, having spent the whole journey down listening to cool choons and pretending to do marking. On arriving in The Big Smoke I got far too excited to continue the pretence: I'm such a small-town girl that the scale of the place amazes me and I get a real buzz from seeing all the bustle and sights. Sad but true. One day I'd like to live in London, but doing a job that gives me time to actually appreciate the place... so that's teaching out the window then! We finally got back at 12.45am, which means I'm feeling a tad on the sandpaper-rough side this morning, espeically given that I've been up at 7 for the last two mornings so I could get my internal reports written. Bah. Off for a nap now, I think!

Izzy whizzy, I've been bizzy!! Am very sleepy, but am finally back in the land of the living (well - vaguely). Updates to follow, once I've found time to write them...!!

Eeeek. And that's all I have to say on the matter.

During the summer I spent many happy hours having a few drinks outside with friends during the warm evenings. The skies were clear and there were few streetlights to mask the glittering of distant stars. It was possible to see all of the major constellations, plus many more besides, and there were the inevitable good-natured drunken discussions about which speck of light was actually Jupiter and which was Mars. They were good evenings, and I always think back to them when I see starlight now. Tonight is such a night. I walked home from a fantastic Guide meeting, and on looking upwards was then reminded of this summer; much goes well with my life. Today has been a day for sitting back, taking a different persepctive and counting my blessings: I've run out of fingers.

Things I like about today:

* Having a colleague make impressed noises about the resources I have in my GCSE teaching file
* Emerging from my classroom into autumnal sun
* Discovering a big bar of Dairy Milk sitting in the kitchen just begging to be eaten
* Being given lots of milk from the kitchens, so I can make a rice pudding tonight
* Being able to wear odd socks to work while no-one notices

Why is it - on making eye contact with and smiling at the most seat-grabbingly sexy person in the street - that I realise I am looking at my all-time personal worst? The fates conspire against me.

On the other hand, it's a good day for Fatso. He's just typed his first blog entry:

ffffffffffffffffffffffffffff333333333333333333333

What's even more impressive, he typed this with his bottom. Stand back in amazement at the skill of the boy.

Sometimes the words available are just not enough, so today I had to add the following to my phone's dictionary:
luvverly
boyo
conned
harrumph

Busy, busy, busy, busy, but cheered by this:

These chocolate puddings have a very poor survival instinct, don't they.

Certainly any chocolate pudding stuoopid enough to hide in my fridge deserves to suffer! Off to do more work...

One thing to be said in favour of this weeks' silly workload - I'm running everywhere, so it's got to be increasing my general fitness. However, I'm fuelled by tea and chocolate, so even that's doubtful. Seems there is no hope.

My day so far:

Morning - sleepy teaching of sleepy kids, managing to record the Fimbles over my GCSE business studies video tape, feeble attempts at marking.

Afternoon - panic, stress, chaos, fear, nervous tension, frowns.

Now - am incarcerated in the school's IT centre desperately trying to work on decent computers, but having to use loud choons to block out the sound of the kids and therefore being distracted. Bah.

Have returned from D of E, which differed from all other D of E expeditions because of a fire alarm before even leaving Repton, a boy who turned up with a £10 note but no food, and a small incident involving a tennis ball and a girl's nose. Small blobs of ice falling from the inside of the tent door into my nice, warm sleeping bag were equally unpleasant, but an exciting discovery upon my return (a chocolate pudding hiding in the fridge, no less!) made up for all that. Off now for a shower, a snooze and then strings and singing... what a sibilant evening! :-)

Mal sent me a long message on the trials and tribulations of classifying music by genre and I really want to reply. However, I've spent too long marking this evening and my body is turning quickly into a tea-filled pumpkin (just look at the time, boys n girls!). It'll just have to wait until after the weekend, which holds the delights (in chronological order) of:
Teaching
Showing prospective parents round the school
More teaching
A beer festival in the bustling metropolis, in the company of Caz n Tom
DIY pizzas and chocolate pudding
Early Sunday morning start - aaargh!
An overnight Duke of Edinburgh expedition
Arrive home Monday evening
String orchestra
Singing rehearsal (ho ho!)
Collapse.

Pah.

By the way, D of E should be entertaining - one of the boys in my group doesn't shut up. Ever. I will have the pleasure of his company all weekend. Believe me - my tent will be pitched at the opposite end of the field. I'm even contemplating taking ear plugs. Could be interesting...

First up, sympathy for my CD crisis. We like sympathy, especially about such crucial issues...

Donchya just hate it when that happens!

Indeedy-doo. Alas, last night I succumbed to a glass or two of wine, and had to postpone the re-arrangement. I did listen to some of the new additions though, and mighty fine they were too.

Today I have been mostly stressing about Repton Challenge, although I had to stop stressing in order to start teaching from time to time. Being off yesterday has confused me completely and I have no idea whether I'm coming or going.

(Actually, I can normally make a good guess at when I coming, but that's just not appropriate for the classroom, so I'll get my mind back out of the gutter. Pity the kids I have to go and teach now...)

CRISIS!!!!

Too many CDs. Not enough shelves. Risk of mixing genres. It's all looking a bit dicey... might have to spend the evening re-arranging things.

A happy hour spent in my favourite record shop (where they put stickers on the CD boxes with helpful comments n reviews, and you get the impression that the assistants actually know what they're talking about) and a selection of yet more new CDs have helped the haze of self-pity to dissipate. Even more exciting is the prosepct of eating the baked chocolate cheesecake that's waiting in the fridge. Bwa-ha-ha!

I'm having what my friend Jen accurately describes as a "pity-party". Pity is good. Being ill is not. Having lots of marking to do is not. Having to juggle the politics of the prep-schools' challenge day is not. Bleurgh.

Well, that's another day gone, another week of term completed. I'm frightened how quickly it's all going, whizzing past at high speed, with scarcely time to catch breath. It's the little things that I'm missing, the things that added variety and interest - there's no time to read the paper at break, to have a laugh with mates, to catch up on the sixth form gossip. Busy, busy, silly, silly, silly busy. And dull.

But with a good soundtrack playing in the background.

Still suffering a manky cough. First lesson today, Sam (one of the upper sixth) looks at me with concern: "You're really ill. You should take the day off tomorrow." The girl next to her leans over and whispers in her ear. Sam looks even more concerned, and says, "Sorry miss - you can't take tomorrow: you don't teach us then. Take Friday instead."

Such sympathy!

In other news, I discovered the joy of bare naked ladies yesterday as I lay in my bed. I was very impressed, in a lying-in-bed, sleepy sort of way. They even kept waking me up as I drifted off to sleep.

Ah. That should read "Barenaked Ladies". Whoops.

In the Legion tonight, a couple were recovering from taking their son to university for the first time. They looked distracted and lacking somewhat in the smile department. It must be quite a wrench, losing your child to the bright lights, late nights and fast women of uni-land. But... if I were a parent, I'd have the champagne open, the flags flying and the music turned right up. All night. And I'd change the locks.

Maybe this is another reason why I shouldn't be allowed to be a parent.

James Casey says I'm not allowed to disco until Thursday, but I'm feeling rebellious. Boogie-oogie-oogie, shawaddy-waddy-waddy, and such like, all care of my new CD. Groove-a-licious, baby!

One jaunt to the bustling metropolis later, and what does Mad have in her (metaphorical) shopping basket? Chocolate, CDs, books and a scap of paper saying that no new glasses are needed on Planet Mad. Pretty productive, I reckon!

It's probably Double-Eeurk status by now. Harrumph.

Progress so far...

Eeurk.

After an afternoon spent sleeping off semi-hungover tiredness, I am now faced with a pile of marking - I've done 3 sets already, only 4 to go. Bleurgh. I suspect the only way to get through this is tea - milky and by the potful - so if I'm still posting at 2am with caffeine-induced insomnia you know exactly what's to blame!

The weekend so far...
Highlight - a good yomp on Saturday afternoon.
Highlight - 2 smoked salmon and scrambled egg bagels.
Highlight - red wine, gin, jack daniels, tequilla.
Highlight - the musical Oh What A Night! at Brum Hippodrome: no story, groovy choons, funky dancing.
Highlight - Some pub/club in Brum with groovy choons and our own attempts at funky dancing.
Highlight - hijacking a taxi then collapsing on the sofa with hot, buttered toast and milky tea.
Lowlight - having to get up at 9.30am and drive (probably still under the affluence of incahol) back to Repton to get changed into a silly dress and make polite conversation at parents' meeting. Pish.

I'm just concerned that I am not hungover this morning. However, the lack of co-ordination in my fingers suggests that I'm probably still drunk. Back to bed before the headache kicks in, methinks! :-)

Why is it that I always feel wide-awake on the evenings when I could do with an early night, and yet exhausted on evenings when I have to stay up late? Bloody bad planning, I call it. Pah.

Ooops. Nearly forgot. Avast. Yarrrr. An' such like, me deary-ohs (sounding as much like Rambling Syd Rumpo as any scurvy pirate dawg to sail the seas, hey ho.)

Fatso's great-great-great-great-many-times-great-grandmother.

The bravenet form says I should not transmit my credit card number using this service, so if I've accidentally sent it you in the past, please delete the email and don't steal all my money.

Well - there's another perfectly good scheme foiled. Of course, if you'd like to deliberately send me your credit card details then that's fine by me...!

Life has been hectic recently, and I've had little problem filling the few hours of freedom I get each week. It looks as though the next few weeks will follow a similar pattern, especially with the arrival of this:

Are you free for drinking beer on the 27th? Caz

She be referring, of course, to the Burton-on-Trent September beer festival, and it would be rude to refuse. If anyone fancies joining us then get in touch, especially considering the fun and japery enjoyed during my last visit to a beer festival (although the prosepct of an early start on Sunday morning for a Duke of Edinburgh expedition may limit the japery somewhat!)

Do you ever drive for longer than is strictly necessary because you want to hear the end of a song that's playing on the car stereo? Me too. I caught myself doing it today - almost subconsciously. I wouldn't have minded but it was some dodgy song from the '80s and I was also suddenly compelled to sing along. It seems that there is no hope. I'm off for a nap.

ps - am contemplating changing my name to Mark, as that is all I seem to have done this term.

Have been admonished via that box o'er there:

You're correct you do sound like a sad, geeky teacher - stop it!

I am on my knees offering you a thousand sweetly-scented grovelling apologies. However, as my knees are now aching and - quite frankly - I'm worried about getting carpet burn, they will have to be one thousand very swift, sweetly-scented apologies. Make the most of them.

In a fit of positive mental attitude and general good-feeling about my job, I bought a book about Accelerated Learning. At the risk of sounding like a sad geeky teacher, tonight I shall be mostly searching for ways to improve my classroom technique and improve the quality of learning taking place. I will, however, also be discovering the delights of the Repton Tandoori, which opened during the summer but has not yet had the pleasure of my company. Prediction for the evening - busy but interesting.

My hair is now purple and short, thanks to a nice lady and a BIIIIIG pair of scissors. I thought it all looked quite good, until I caught a man in WHSmith looking at me in a horrified sort of way. My immediate thought was that he disapproved of the hair - after all, it is *quite* short and *quite* purple (aubergine-like in its hue, no less). It was then that I realised it was because I was thinking quite hard, but appeared to be intensively studying a huge display of self-help sex books. Gah!

Today's whimsical question arrives in the inbox:

If all the world's a stage, then am I the dead wood?

Dear reader, I fear that if you have to ask then the answer may well be "yes". However, dead wood has many uses - for instance, lighting fires and creating mulch - so worry not if dead wood you be! (so says Auntie Mad in bestest Yoda-mode)

My weekend, in rhyming triolets.

Purple hair -
See them stare.
Do I care?!

Alton Towers -
Swathes of flowers;
Happy Hours.

Sleepy head -
"Want my bed,"
Is what I said.

-- Typical Mad - things to add - must be bad.

Hungry shakes -
No steaks:
PANCAKES!!!

Sleep can wait;
Grab a plate:
Eat 'til late!

Shit, fan, splat? Hmmm....

Guides: 1 hall, 16 girls, 2694 decibels.

Am still recovering from the shock.

Does this advice not extend to your male readers? Hmmm?

On reflection, I suppose that it does. Although the direction of the leopard skin pattern might give it away.

Today's advice for ladies:

When holding a pair of knickers that are bigger at the front then the back, do not assume that they are a thong. They may just be a pair of ordinary pants held back to front.

Went to the Legion for a dose of normality. This does not, of course, make me normal; it merely makes me slightly drunk. I love being able to walk into a place by myself without the usual 'woman alone in pub' feeling: I know there will be people to chat to, beverages to drink, dodgy blokes to avoid and the odd game of snooker to gatecrash. I love the fact that I can wear my "fit chick unbelievable knockers" t-shirt and get appreciative comments. I simply adore the way that Tony tries to force-feed me beer, Jamie flirts wildly with everyone and the ladies behind the bar start to pour my drink before I actually order it. Over on little.red.boat yesterday, Anna asked this:

Are You
Happy?
Settled?
Drunk?
In love?

Yes, yes, yes, no... Hell - three out of four ain't bad. If you know anyone willing to volunteer for the fourth then point 'em in my direction!

My legs became shorter this summer.

Either that or someone's been stretching the legs of my trousers.

Progress report for Mad Emuss (end of 1st week at school)

General: Now has a tidy desk and is coping well with the lack of shelving.
Work: After a slow start, has nearly completed her pile of marking.
Social skills: Had to resort to buying friends using sticky toffee pudding.
Appearance: Started smart, but now crumpled. Redeemed only by pretty shoes.
Health: Snot-ridden and suffering from aching calves. (How? How?!)
Overall: Fair-to-middling satisfactory.

On camp this summer, I persuaded two boys (both aged 6) that I was 40 years old. I discovered today that they told their father and - herein lies the crucial point - he believed them. Pants. I spot a theme to today.

Child 1: "How come teachers can write on the board so quickly?"
Child 2: "They've had a lot of practice because they're all so old"

Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot.

The "to attend the concert or not?" dilemma was solved by my bro's arrival on his new bike and the prospect of an evening spent in the pub. It was great to catch up on the news n gossip, and even greater to discover that I still fit into my leathers. Exciting discovery of the evening was the contents of my leather jacket's pockets - thin gloves and earplugs: how useful!

I've been terribly domestificated. I bought some saucepans.

Last night I was visited by the snot monster. This morning I felt slightly on the rough side of sandpaper. This evening, Jennifer Pike (winner of the BBC Young Musician of the Year competition) plays a violin recital at school, and I worry that I will cough, splutter and sniffle throughout it. To be honest, it's only bearable because I've finished teaching for today (already, ha ha!) and I have such cute shoes.*

*they have flowers on them: how girlie is that?!

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

"Flipflopflipflopflipflopflipflopflipflopflipflopaaaaargh!!"

Luckily the pavement was clean.

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

I played netball/basketball today.

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

I lasted 5 minutes.

The ache lasted quite a while longer.

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

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

From the mouths of babes and sucklings...

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stars didn't offer much solace either.

Oh, and I apologise in light of this:

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

Indeed. Sorry. I stand corrected!

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow could be interesting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If u hate packing so much stop going away!

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hate packing.

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

Drununk. Whoops.

Things about the internet that make me smile...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyhooo...

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

And then on to...

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

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

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

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

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