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?!