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...