On the face of things, this week have been quite uneventful, but simply scratch the surface a little, in the way that you would your first ever lottery scratch-card, and there are some glimmers of interest.
Last week I had a delivery of what I presumed was going to be a rather inexpensive shelving unit, bought in the attempt to organise my desk at work. The picture in the catalogue showed neat white shelves containing brightly ten coloured draws. The actual parcel that arrived contained five DIY coloured cardboard boxes. Obviously, looking again at the catalogue it clearly stated that the package I had bought for a respectable £6.50 was in fact the drawers, which are sold separately from the £30 wooden shelving unit. This is the downside of dyslexia, and at the present time I can’t recall the up side.
Last weekend, being the creative soul that I am, I set out to make myself the shelves out of the box that contained the five card board pieces. It’s not entirely complete yet, (it still needs a few more coats of paint and something done about the jagged edges) but I am quite pleased with the Blue-Peter like result.
Last night was probably the most eventful night of the week; a hen night for a work colleague, one much more senior than me I might add. We went to a kind of comedy club in Milton Keynes, £20 for a three course meal and two, (although one was dire) comedy acts. The night started out as 15, dropped to 9 by 10 o’clock, (not helped by the first act as well as the prospect of work filled days for those above 30) and finally by 12:00 had reached just 5. Unsurprisingly it was the performing arts faculty that lead the, by this time rather leadable, hen to a night of clubbing.
The remainder of the night I shall censor, but I will say that we stumbled to our homes, (or those of other senior teachers) at around four in the morning and all made it into work the next morning, some in a better state than others.
Skipping back a few days, I had a massage on Tuesday night. I’m not usually one for pampering myself, but have managed to get myself into the habit of booking two hours of bliss every two months in an attempt to dislodge the cobwebs and general feelings of “neurgness” that build up in that time.
A hot stone massage is, in many ways, just like Ronseal; a massage involving hot stones. Some of it is a little too ritualistic for me, (a stone placed on various Chakras during the massage and tapped before they are taken off) but all that is irrelevant compared to the fantastic feeling that heat and pressure manage to produce on twisted muscles and tensed shoulders!
As far as school goes, I’m getting on with it. I’ll continue to begrudgingly do what I am told, in many cases not seeing the reason why, until I can finally get out of the place and develop a time machine that will take me back to the days of the cane, (preferably one I can use on teachers as well as pupils).
Well – that’s it. Clearly that scratch card wasn’t hiding three matching symbols this week, perhaps another time.
Last week I had a delivery of what I presumed was going to be a rather inexpensive shelving unit, bought in the attempt to organise my desk at work. The picture in the catalogue showed neat white shelves containing brightly ten coloured draws. The actual parcel that arrived contained five DIY coloured cardboard boxes. Obviously, looking again at the catalogue it clearly stated that the package I had bought for a respectable £6.50 was in fact the drawers, which are sold separately from the £30 wooden shelving unit. This is the downside of dyslexia, and at the present time I can’t recall the up side.
Last weekend, being the creative soul that I am, I set out to make myself the shelves out of the box that contained the five card board pieces. It’s not entirely complete yet, (it still needs a few more coats of paint and something done about the jagged edges) but I am quite pleased with the Blue-Peter like result.
Last night was probably the most eventful night of the week; a hen night for a work colleague, one much more senior than me I might add. We went to a kind of comedy club in Milton Keynes, £20 for a three course meal and two, (although one was dire) comedy acts. The night started out as 15, dropped to 9 by 10 o’clock, (not helped by the first act as well as the prospect of work filled days for those above 30) and finally by 12:00 had reached just 5. Unsurprisingly it was the performing arts faculty that lead the, by this time rather leadable, hen to a night of clubbing.
The remainder of the night I shall censor, but I will say that we stumbled to our homes, (or those of other senior teachers) at around four in the morning and all made it into work the next morning, some in a better state than others.
Skipping back a few days, I had a massage on Tuesday night. I’m not usually one for pampering myself, but have managed to get myself into the habit of booking two hours of bliss every two months in an attempt to dislodge the cobwebs and general feelings of “neurgness” that build up in that time.
A hot stone massage is, in many ways, just like Ronseal; a massage involving hot stones. Some of it is a little too ritualistic for me, (a stone placed on various Chakras during the massage and tapped before they are taken off) but all that is irrelevant compared to the fantastic feeling that heat and pressure manage to produce on twisted muscles and tensed shoulders!
As far as school goes, I’m getting on with it. I’ll continue to begrudgingly do what I am told, in many cases not seeing the reason why, until I can finally get out of the place and develop a time machine that will take me back to the days of the cane, (preferably one I can use on teachers as well as pupils).
Well – that’s it. Clearly that scratch card wasn’t hiding three matching symbols this week, perhaps another time.
Found in many lakes and ponds, ducks are a common site the world over. Known for their famous quack, ducks tend to congregate in flocks or go off on their own in pairs. As a duck, you may seem friendly at times but will not hesitate to bite if someone is bothering you. Your ability to swim is part of what makes you a duck.
