Bloody hell. There I was, just lying down to read a couple of chapters before going to sleep, when suddenly I've finished the book, it's 5.20 and it's light outside. Where does the time go?!

Sometimes IM can be a dangerous thing, but at times the misunderstandings can be quite amusing!:

Fred*: i've been a naughty boy... will i get the wooden spoon?
Mad: oooh yes...
Mad: what a good idea :)
Fred: Woohoo!
Mad: we could bake a cake then! :)
Mad: ah
Fred: D'oh!
Mad: that's not what you were think of, is it?! ;-)
Fred: Er, in a word: No

* Names changed to protect the innocent.

To Auntie Charl, for her vote of confidence regarding my stamina levels, thank you. I would like to point out though that it was *me* who passed out after our "quiet lunchtime drink" that time at Gilwell, and not you: more evidence of stamina-lacking, methinks! Besides, stop reading Planet Mad and get on with some dissertating!

Comments:

mummy mad

No, NO and thrice NOOO! Auntie Mad, yes; mummy mad is just frightening though. I'm fine with kids so long as I can hand them back when they get whingy.

How do I get into blogging?

Mua-ha-ha!! You ask me?!? :-) Although I suspect that there are many way, it's easy to go to blogger, sign up, choose a template and start. Also having a friendly geek on hand to rescue your blog when it all goes tits-up is always useful.

Today was a day for sheepies, piggies, birdies, train rides, ice-creams and races in the garden. It's not even half past seven and I'm worn out: I officially have no stamina!

The good ship Domesticity sailed on into uncharted waters today with the purchase of a tea-cosy. We're not talking about yer average "stick it on top and Bob's yer uncle" sort of tea-cosy; this is a very swish, it's an all-encompassing quilted affair, with a stretchy bit that holds it in place. Warm tea... mmmmm!!

Yesterday's photo got you thinking:

Loving the photo of the ass wipes - pure genius!

I thought so too! And Si, as ever, provides a wonderfully lateral view on the whole sheebang:

Shrek has a lot to answer for if B&Q are now stocking products supporting Donkey ownership.

We made it to Italy with no complications, complete with all kids, luggage and instruments; we even managed to bring them all back, apart from an errant bass guitar that decided that it wanted to stay in Pisa. In between the journeys, the week was great: it was hot and sunny every day; the kids behaved; my colleagues proved to be fab company; we visited lots of very exciting places; and played some damn fine music. Although I had perhaps less sleep than is normally required, I've been able to make it up since. We got back late on Wednesday evening, so I spent a couple of days sleeping and tidying in preparation for The Boy Wonder*'s visit.

It's been a haven of domesticity: we've cooked nice healthy food; steam-cleaned the kitchen floor; trundled to B&Q; and slapped a good coat of paint onto the walls in my bathroom. No longer do I have to recoil in horror from shiny, snot-green surfaces that are streaked with purple hair dye. Instead, it's a calm magnolia sort of colour, as is some of the floor, a small area of the bath, and several clumps of my hair. I'm not sure what tomorrow has in store, but I suspect it won't quite be the grown-up-ness of this weekend. After all, I'm already reverting to type: I found this product in B&Q and it amused me greatly.



* As certain of my colleagues refer to my bloke. The bloke in question is concerned that this will lead to you getting the wrong impression of him, and in particular that he will have a lot to live up to if he ever meets you, but I think he frets unnecessarily. Besides, a reputation like that will keep him on his toes!

It seems to be spam central on the internet at the moment - last time I logged on to collect email, my spam buster eliminated over 2,000 messages; this time there are over 4,000 trying to get downloaded. Bah.

On a more cheery note, the last couple of days have been very laid back, with good company, fine food and a glass or two of nice wine. Tonight we head off to Italy on music tour, although considering the way that the plans for today's rehearsals kept changing, it wouldn't surprise me if we end up in Estonia. It's going to be a magical mystery tour, and I hope to arrive back late next Wednesday. Bon voyage!

Fatso has the most cool purple bedding in the world ever, I have a clear sitting room floor, most of my clothes are clean: it's been a productive evening. Time to collapse, I think. Zzzzz...

This summer holiday is going to be a restful one, except I've not got to the restful stage yet. Instead, this week has included tents, hills, army barracks, caving, minibuses, A&E, a BBQ for 80, some hair dye and another wedding. Tonight I shall be mostly being domesticated, to try and discover my flat under the remains of my unpacking. Tomorrow I have a Guide thingy then my bloke arrives for a few days before I head off to Italy on music tour. Only after that is it allowed to get restful!

Last night was the leavers' BBQ: all our upper sixth came back to eat burgers and relive some of their funniest school moments. We laughed, and laughed, and laughed. For most of them, the great unknown excitement of university lies ahead - the evening is always a time for reminiscing about their years at school, for settling old scores, for closure. It was good.

Today is the last day of summer term,which always follows the same pattern: lessons until 12.10pm; assembly; lunch; packing; leavers' chapel service; House Supper; leavers' party and fireworks; collapse.

Many of these stages involve food and/or drink; some are quite stressful, whilst others are far more laid back. Before this evening's schmoozing and boozing comes the stress and confusion of going home. We will have to wander the House, checking that packing is being done and signing off rooms when they are completed. Inevitably there will be girls who have not started the arduous task of putting their belongings into trunks and suitcases. There is no doubt that there will be battles over the queue for the hoover and bitter recriminations during the hunt for black bin bags.

This evening, though, will be delightful. The food will be good, there will be wine and port, the cheeses will be smelly, and the talk will be about both the past and future. If the rain holds off, we will stand on the paddock, resplendent in black tie and swishy dresses, waiting for the whizzes and flashes of the fireworks. Rain may force us indoors to the school's main hall, but the atmosphere will be the same: excitement at what lies ahead, tinged with a hint of sadness for what has been. It'll be great.

Tomorrow I leave for D of E expedition at 10.30am, staggering under the weight of my rucksack (which is as yet not packed) and wincing through my hangover. Happy days.

A reader writes:

Stop punishing yourself - grow your hair long

Oh no, if only because that would get rid of my excuse to go to the hairdresser, with all its pampering and massaging; that wouldn't be a good thing! Mmmm, I'm swooning at the anticipation of this afternoon's visit; just a course on netball to endure before I can go. Sadly, this course is a practical one, so the thought of running round in a tracksuit beforehand is slightly dulling the excitement. Bah!

I'd headed up to the Lower Sixth corridor in the House to go through someone's UCAS personal statement, when I was accosted by a gaggle of girls looking for an excuse not to be working. Conversation started with my netball course tomorrow, veered through diets, chocolate and smear tests, before arriving at haircuts.

"Oh no, Miss E," cried one of the girls. "You can't go back to radical short. We've seen the photos. You just look so much prettier and more feminine now it's longer."

"Well, yes - that's what's worrying me," I replied. "I don't think I'm cut out to do feminine. I'm just yer basic jeans and doc martens sort of girl: I can't do girlie."

"Oh yes you can: you can get away with it. It's not like you look like a dyke."

Which, all things considered, is a shame, as I'd wanted to look like a volcanic rock feature. Hey ho.

Term ends with House Supper, a black tie dinner with dining, drinking and carousing until the early hours. This means that I have to find something to wear, which normally causes more stress than writing damned reports.

I own two dresses that are appropriate for such occasions. One is purple, long and swishy; the other is pink but much less glamorous. I wore the pink for Christmas House Supper, so technically it's time to get the purple outfit out. However, if we're talking technicalities here, there's the small consideration of getting the zip done up. This is not just because of the effect of school dinners upon my waistline, but also because this is a dress with very little in the strappage department so no bra for me; going without is not a problem because - trust me - my breasts are going nowhere once this dress is done up. The zip, however, is one of those fiddly ones that require yogic movements and double-jointed shoulders to get it done up, unless you recruit a good friend (and it *has* to be a good friend, as you're going to stand bra-less but undone in front of them, and there's the risk that they'll be knocked out by errant boobs). I've been avoiding trying on the dress for a) lack of good friend, and b) fear of a lack of closure. Today, though, I decided that I could delay no longer. Guess what...?

It still fits! Provided I can stay off the chocolate biscuits between now and then I should be ok! :-)

The last set of reports was completed this morning at 8.45, just in time for the 8.50am deadline. I am truly a last-minute merchant of the highest calibre. Mind you, it's not just been reports that have been filling my time (although I have had to write 80 in the last week), nor the 45 exam papers to mark, but also the general faff that accompanies the end of any term, for both school and Guides.

This weekend just gone was the village's Open Gardens weekend, when various householders throw open their doors to welcome nosy strangers into their gardens, to talk knowledgeably about their wisteria and to generally show off their horticultural skills. To jazz up this weekend there is a village-wide scarecrow competition, where people make models in interesting poses and write witty captions for them. We decided that a good way to spend the last Guide meeting of term would be to make such a scarecrow, so that's what we did. Eleven Guides, two leaders, ten bin bags, two ping-pong balls and several rolls of sellotape later, we produced a mighty fine 'Scared Crow', complete with flapping, feathered wings and a big sign that says "Eeek!". We were well impressed by the results of our endeavours - as were the judges of the competition: we won first prize!! Smug grins and self-congratulatory hugs all round, plus grand plans of how to spend our prize money (a whole twenty squid!). Sadly we're photo-less, but this is probably a good thing or you'd have them inflicted upon you by now!

I spent the weekend (well, what remained after Saturday's teaching, marking exams and ironing my jeans dry so that I had something to wear!) in Cheltenham, sampling the culinary delights of Deepest Gloucestershire's pubs and then mooching round Waitrose in hunt of exciting picnic food. Shell-on prawns, antipasti and vegetable terrine quiche seemed to fit the bill; we ate in the park, enjoying the sunshine and watching the families play rounders. It was great. Even the realisation that being seen in Habitat looking at sets of cutlery was a tad on the coupley side didn't dim the pleasure.

This week sees more reports to be written, for university references this time, plus the tidying and sorting that I've been postponing all year. Mind you, I have only four days left, so mushn't grumble! Woo!!

right, so which bookies are keeping bets on whether you will be alive?

also, I presume that as you haven't posted today, then you must be dead.

Not dead but fucking busy. Don't have time to waste doing this. More important things to do.

It's a close run thing, this battle between Mad and her reports, but Mad appears to be drawing slightly ahead. Will she be able to stay the distance? Will she meet the deadline in twelve hours' time and still be alive? What is the meaning of life? How much is that doggy in the window?

Whilst there are many things to write about and many pictures to share, there is also a long list of reports waiting to be written. Tempus fugit, and all that jazz. On the other hand, I could not resist the opportunity to push you in this direction for some Monty Python (lego style), found via Ali and the DOGS forum. Go. Be amused. I was.

I bet Fatso would be better at betting than the Guardian's betting hamster, Turnip. He's only placed 5 bets on Euro 2004 and he's lost £50 already.

I don't think we should be encouraging him to have any more bad habits...!

The lower sixth have all finished their exams now, and thoughts are turning towards university. Last night I had them all over to talk about UCAS, gap years and other scary, grown-up things: it turned into an hour's grilling on the minutae of personal statements and tuition fees. I offered my services as a UCAS form goer-overer* and I've already been handed three personal statements since then: all rubbish, of course, but gaining marks for being keen! I talked to Pam today about university type things and he told me about consultancies that try to get candidates into Oxbridge; more specifically, he told me how much they charge. I'm in the wrong business! If it weren't for my sense of ethics** I could do that - try and get undeserving rich brats into academic institutions that are far above their intellectual capabilities, fleecing them royally at the same time. At last I've found a way to supplement my salary that is both legal and (although dubious) not technically immoral. Hurrah!

* A person who goes over, of course.
** Something to do with a belief that university is not always the right option on leaving school, and that Oxbridge places should go to those who are clever enough for them, not those whose parents have paid oodles and noodles of dosh to blag a way into some college. Had better stop now before the rant kicks in.***
*** If I'm not too late already.