Blowing my own trumpet...

I just finished my last morning at school. It's left me all emotional! The class teacher I work with told me I'm the best Teaching Assistant she's ever had - I nearly cried. It was completely out of the blue. And the dinner ladies silenced the dining room so the whole school could say goodbye to me!

I'm going to miss them all so much.

Clever me.

I GOT IN I GOT IN I GOT IN! Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeah!!

I have so much to write about... but the main thing is: I'M GOING TO GOLDSMITHS! He told me that I wouldn't know for a few days, but I just checked on the web system and it says they've made me an offer! Woo!
So I'll be starting there next September and I really can't wait.

However, right now I'm pretty hungover, absolutely exhausted, and on my way back to school to watch my class's assembly on Florence Nightingale. I wish I could curl up in bed but I promised them I'd be there. And it took me ages to make that damn lamp, so I want to see it in action!

Pudsey

I'm not in the mood to write a proper post, but I'm watching Children In Need and feel the need to jot some bits down.

There is a Pudsey Bear perfume?? Does it make you smell like a bear? Or maybe a needy child?

I absolutely adore Terry Wogan but I can't help thinking it's time he gave up this presenting lark. He doesn't seem to be particularly on top of things this year.

I made little yellow Pudsey ears for half the staff at school today. The kids loved it. My hangover didn't!

Fearne Cotton is presenting... I discovered whilst watching the MTV EMAs that Katy Perry is nearly as annoying as Fearne Cotton. How many (stupid) outfit changes did she need?

The Sugababes look strangely swollen. Curvy in tight dresses. It's possibly because they came on the stage after the stick-like Girls Aloud. I want to pop them with a pin.

According to Midlands Today, women only watch Top Gear because they fancy Richard Hammond. I don't.

Aw... McFly...

Protect The Innocent

Tonight has been absolutely hilarious. I'm not drunk; just slightly tipsy. And noone else needed looking after. Ergo, a positive night out, oui?

Of course, I've been surrounded by middle-aged women:
Lady A* - Possibly in her mid-40s, but acts older. Very reserved. Very serious about her job. Apparently, rarely takes up offers of extra-curricular social events. She realised tonight who my mother is... which lead to her hanging her head in shame and apologising profusely all night. Seriously; if you've not heard me called Miss C[surname] there is no reason why you'd know my mum is the secretary! She couldn't get over it...
Lady B* - Similar to Lady A, she's older than her years. But apparently makes the effort for nights out, despite sitting in the corner and not really 'fitting in'. She's lovley. But left at 10pm with Lady A to ensure they're not tired tomorrow... We're all going to be hungover tomorrow. Get. Over. It. But she's a sweetie so I shouldn't bitch!
Lady C* - In your face. I-am-who-I-am. Showed us her suck-it-in knickers in the middle of the restuaurant by undoing her flies. A perfect example when explaining that the most confident people are often those with the most to hide. I adore her, but I know she's not as open as she'd like to make out. She's probably very similar to me.
Lady D* - As far as I can gather she's in her late 40s, divorced, and now sleeping with 'Frank*'. I know her daughter, and she has a younger son. Frank, apparently, is damn good in bed and due to his prowess, she has discovered that Durex Vibrating Cock Rings only vibrate for 40mins.
Lady E* - A happily married 30-something-yr-old with 4 children. She hasn't had a single epidural and regrets it for all 4 children. She's the youngest at heart (and in mind), and has discovered, similar to Lady D, that Ann Summers Rhythm Riders only last 30mins.
Charlotte - My closest friend due to our similarities in age... The queen of School Gossip, she loves to hear it all; whether it concerns her or not, and loves to tell it; whether I care or not. Today I met her boyfriend/ex-boyf who she is too good for and knows it. I hope they break up before I leave the country so that I can see her finally be happy with somone she is good enough for. Seriously.



Gosh, fingers crossed that they're all too computer illiterate to discover how I've summarised them. Although they're true and not particularly offensive... I'd hate them to be annoyed with me for it.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent! ...they're don't all share the first name Lady, really!

The Kids Of Today

The plan to keep my impending interview quiet at work failed instantly. In my excitement yesterday I'd sent Charlotte a message about it - the biggest mistake imaginable. When I walked into the staff meeting this morning she jumped up and squealed "CONGRATULATIONS!" at me and, of course, I had to explain to the rest of the room why I was celebrating. As there were only the other Teaching Assistants in the room, I explained that I didn't want to shout about it incase it goes badly, so could they ever so kindly keep it on the low? Despite the understanding nods, I knew they wouldn't, and they didn't.

I can't really complain though; it was absolutely fantastic news and I would have loved to have been able to shout about it. The various good lucks in the corridor and offers to write me glowing references (without me even asking!) were really appreciated. It's nice to be able to tell someone and have them realise how much it means to me... I think I need to apologise to Phyll for calling her yesterday and spending the whole conversation talking about how excited I am! But I knew she'd understand and share my excitement.

This evening is the Teaching Assistants Night Out... It's going to be an interesting one. Due to their complete lack of descretion, I know they've been collecting money all week to buy me a 'leaving gift'. I feel bad for working it out, and slightly vain for assuming it's for me, but the hushed talk of "Oh, I need to give you that money for...shhh!" when I walk in the room left me in no doubt. I also had to leave the staff meeting 'because the secretary [my mum] needs to talk to you" about... whether or not I wanted her to make me a sandwich at lunchtime. Good cover story there, Mum.

So far I've had a 'leaving weekend' 4weeks early when Helly and Becca came to Leam. They gave Caroline and I leaving presents, and we said our goodbyes, despite the fact there were still a month left til my departure. As I mentioned before; they realised it was a bit premature and so will be re-paying me a visit next weekend! And now I'm having a 'leaving do' 2weeks early! I'm not complaining. It's really lovely of them to think of me, considering I've only been there 6weeks or so. Mum reckons they don't usually give TAs much of a send off...

It's going to be interesting though. Apart from Charlotte, they're all mums and a good few years older than me. I find myself joining in conversations about The Kids Of Today and what looks good in the Avon catalogue (not much). Although today I managed to get wrapped up in a conversation about Ann Summers parties... but that's as good as it gets. They're all excited because we're going to a cheap cheap curry place where there's cheap wine so they can afford to drink a whole bottle each! Golly gosh. I have a feeling that either I'll end up looking after them, or they'll end up looking after me. We shall see.

Goldsmiths

I GOT AN INTERVIEW!

Now, I know that doesn't mean that I've got a place... But, hell yeah! I GOT AN INTERVIEW! The bad news is that it's next Wednesday and that is rather soon. But I've been preparing for this bad boy for half my life so I'm not panicking.

I'm just not sure how publicly I should make known it at work. Charlotte had an interview for Warwick last year and told everyone about it... Then she didn't get it (I hasten to add; not because she's particularly useless but, I think, because she didn't apply until there were no places left). It meant that everyone at school kept asking if she'd heard back and she eventually had to let the whole staff population know her depressing news.

So... I want to tell people, because I want to pick their brains and ask them to write glorious references, but I don't want to have to tell them if I don't get it. I guess I'll just have to make sure I do myself proud, eh?

Gunpowder Action

I need to learn to start writing posts when I think about things. When I have time to think to myself (which seems to be a lot of the time), I write some fantastic posts in my head... and then either I forget them, or I cut+paste in so many changes so it becomes a mishmash of everything.

I had a lot of time to think on Saturday night.

After the shenanigans with Alasdair on Thursday evening, I chickened out of our firework rendez-vous. I decided that the next time we saw each other was going to be inevitably weird, and I'd have lots of things I needed to get off my chest, so meeting him with a herd of his friends just wasn't going to work. Also, it was cold, wet, and in Kenilworth.

Instead, I wandered down the road in the dark to the firework display at work (the local school). I wasn't sure if it was the best idea... Firstly, it's work and I've never been able to understand why people socialise where they work. Secondly, I was going on my own.

Ma and Pa have apparently only "tolerated" fireworks for the past 21yrs because it made H & I happy, so although they offered to accompany me I couldn't really say yes and drag them into the cold. Liz & Family were there but I didn't particularly want to intrude. And, let's be honest, the world might implode if Ben, Liz and I were to ever actually be in the same place at the same time (which reminds me of this post)! Charlotte was supposed to meet me there but didn't get my facebook message with my phone number before deciding she was too tired to go.

So... off I toddled into the night with my wellies, thermal undies, and an over-sized hoodie. There was no way I was missing out on some gunpowder action! I knew I wasn't actually going to be on my own because I'd know people there. I heard multiple children shout "Hello Miss C!" at me, but due to the darkness I couldn't work out which child I was waving back at. However, despite the odd familiar face in the crowd, I was very much on my own. Which is, well, pretty sad, isn't it?

I do enjoy my own company, and I'm not afraid to do things on my own. But something like Bonfire Night... shouldn't it be shared with someone? It's the kind of evening where you need someone to hold your hand to keep you warm. And there's nothing more romantic than watching fireworks reflect in someone elses eyes...

I think I'm just feeling a wee bit sorry for myself, as you could probably judge from my previous moaning post.

Good news though; Becca and Helly are coming home the weekend before I leave for France! They weren't supposed to be... we said our big goodbyes last time I saw them. But due to fantastic circumstances they're coming back to see me! I know it's not for a while, but I am so excited!

Miss Bitch

Teaching makes me become such a bitch.

It's Wednesday, so I have my lesson (yay!), but today I also had a couple of other mini-lessons with smaller groups making 'Slime' (Cornflour + Water + Food Dye... try it, it's ace). I know my "I'm the teacher" time with the kids is short and sporadic, but when they're with me they genuinely behave impeccably. It makes me go warm and fuzzy inside to think about my little darlings sat there in near-silence, beavering away at their work. I felt myself physically ooze with pride when a teacher commented in the staff room today (in front of half the staff), saying that she'd popped her head into the classroom to say something and decided not to disturb me because she was so "wowed" by how well I was handling the class. It's things like this that just make my life.

As I said, my teaching times are short and sporadic, so it's probably relatively easy to control behaviour. I can spoil them with short-term rewards, or lay the discipline on thick without needing to follow it up in later lessons. That's what makes me feel like a bitch... I usually draw a chart on the whiteboard and tally good behaviour points. It's so easy to give them and take them away. "Oh look, I think I'm going to have to wipe another point off your tally! Oh dear." and with one quick swish of my finger their hopes of being House Champion (or whatever it is) are swished away.

The ultimate bitch moment of today however, was when I was with Foundation this afternoon. I was working on the drawing table with groups of children. Yasmin had already drawn her picture, and others needed her place at the table to do theirs, so I asked her to leave. She asked for more paper to do another. I said no, told her to go away. She came and asked again. I repeated no. On the third time of asking I got mad and told her that if Miss C says no, she means it so do not ask again. She stopped and stared dumbstruck at me for a good, long minute, before absolutely bawling her eyes out and crying that she wanted Mummy. Fuck. So, of course, I couldn't back down, and got stuck in one of those internal arguements over whether or not I should hug the little thing... as her cries got louder and louder...

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Rains/Pours Update: Guy With The Girlf called me at midnight and left me a voicemail telling me he'd broken up with Girlf. It happened at the weekend, and he was planning on telling me when he saw me... He sent a few txts after, saying he genuinely missed me etc etc and might visit me in France.
I still think I made the right decision. Girlf or not, I didn't trust him. It's just a bitch that he's so hot.

Exceptionnel Spending

I’m trying to sleep but I can’t. My head is whirring. I think it’s a mixture of a) realising today that I leave the country in only a month’s time and b) staying in bed far too long this morning. I can’t remember when I had a proper lie-in and my body just isn’t used to it. Despite it being half term, my alarm is set for 8am tomorrow morning - I need my routine back.

I spoke to Caroline on the phone earlier today. She’s panicking because she recently discovered she had the start-date wrong for her job in Canada. She’s had to shift her flights forward a week and now has one week to prepare herself, instead of the fortnight she had planned everything into. What a nightmare! However, it’s given me a bit of a kick up the bum because, so far, I’ve ticked off about 2 of my million To Dos.

So as I’ve been lying in bed in the dark and failing to sleep I’ve been thinking about shopping. About ski season shopping, to be precise. And wondering how the fuck I’m going to pay for everything. After a bit of mental arithmetic I realised there is no way I can afford half of what I want. Cuts are going to have to be made.

But... well, I can’t cut out a new pair of GHDs. I know, I know, I should probably buy a cheaper pair of straightners. But cheaper pairs don’t compare. I have thick hair, so it takes a good pair to straighten it. It’s also in a short bob at the moment and it takes styling to get it to sit right. When I’m in The Alps I’ll be starting work early and I’ll be expected to be well presented. So, in conclusion, a decent pair of straightners is a need, not a want, and so cannot be removed from the list despite their £100 price tag. Agreed?

I’m not buying a ski jacket til I’m out there on the advice of friends who worked last season. Firstly, it’ll cut down on packing, and secondly, I’ll want to buy one when I’m out there anyway. Instead I’m buying myself a nice gilet... but I guess the Jack Wills one I really want is too pricey, as is the classic black North Face one...

I’ve decided not to buy myself some new perfume despite really wanting/needing some. My current bottle now contains just a dribble at the bottom, but I’ve managed to talk myself into making it last. And anyway, really, a girl shouldn’t have to buy her own perfume, should she? It’s just a shame I don’t have anyone to buy it for me... And I have a horrid feeling that my Xmas and B’day presents this year will be mostly in the form of Euros {except for my present from Phylli, which I am very excited about and haven’t been shaking to work out what it is, honest}.

Then there’s that Chanel mascara... Mandy gave me a sample of Chanel’s Exceptionnel when I visited her in Bath and, well, it really is exceptional and I’m not entirely sure I can resist buying it. Even though I know I really shouldn’t. But, as above; no one else is going to but it for me!

On top of all that, gloves, baselayers, socks, sunglasses and goggles must be bought. And I don’t really want to buy cheap ones because if I do that I’ll just buy expensive replacements when I’m there and I’ll end up spending silly amounts! So... it’s a good job I opened that graduate bank account, isn’t it? And it’s also pretty handy that the school I’ve been working at for the past 5weeks just got in touch and asked if I’d carry on working for them until I leave! {Replacing the Yr2 Teaching Assistant who unfortunately – but fortunately for me – fell down her stairs... YEAR TWO! Which means I get to teach my half hour lesson once a week, and *fingers crossed* avoid the Foundation child who pooed his pants four times last week.}

Pride Comes Before A Fall

This weekend, a friend txt me, telling me which 3rd years back in Liverpool were being promoted at OTC. One of them was Steve. I knew he would get it, and I'm so proud of him. But then I got thinking; am I allowed to feel proud of him? We're not together anymore and now we barely speak (because he basically told me to leave him alone). So is it OK for someone to feel proud of their ex??

I txt him to say well done, and discovered that he'd not actually been told that he'd got the position yet. Oops. I made him promise to act surprised when someone tells him officially. It made me laugh though; I'm 100miles away and I still manage to find out OTC gossip quicker than current Officer Cadets without even trying!


Wednesdays are usually my favourite day of the week because I get to teach a mini-lesson. But today Suzie has called in sick and so I'm stuck with the 4yr olds all day. This morning has been bareable, but I miss my class! It's rather sad; this is my last week at this school.

On a happier note - I've found out my transport details for France!! I leave London at 6pm on November 28th... EXCITING!

Today has been really fun.

This afternoon I got, basically, shouted at for laughing at a child. I knew it was going to happen some time or another... A child did something that I found hysterically funny and I couldn't hold back my laughter!
Zack (the 4yr-old "I'm a chocolate penguin with a marshmallow hat" boy) decided to attempt to pick up his sweater with his mouth because his hands were full of lunchboxes, coats and book-bags. It was on the floor and so he fell down, head first, nose-bombing into a tangled mess - complete with hysterical-child laughter. It was contagious; I laughed and laughed until tears blurred my vision! The class teacher merely looked at me sternly and told me it wasn't funny.
But it was! She apologised to me later, for raising her voice. But as she spoke the images of Zack crumpled on the floor re-flooded my mind and I couldn't hold back my giggles. Oops. She wasn't amused.

I've only just returned home after school.
I went shopping for ski-stuff straight from the classroom, and then met Jas for dinner. SushiYA was closed, and so we settled for Italian. It was lovely to gossip and catch-up with my token Asian friend. I then met Tom for a few glasses of wine afterwards and, again, we had a good catch-up (including the story of when I broke up with Andy because of his small, deformed penis). Despite the fact it's been 3yrs since we properly saw each other, it was easy to chat; like we'd never been apart. And we said our goodbyes at just the right time - before we ran out of things to say, or fell asleep due to us both being knackered after work.

A very successful and social evening if you ask me.

Chocolate Penguins and Dead Charlotte.

I tried to explain today, to one of the teachers, why it is I want to teach. I'm not going to attempt to do it again here, because I don't think I could do myself justice. There are many reasons why I know it's exactly what I want to do with my life. But I'm not one of those conventional "I just really love working with children!" people. I mean, yea, I do love working with children, but I don't think it's quite the same as how some people do...

One reason, basically, is that I find them hilarious. Abso-fucking-lutely hysterically funny. The things some children come out with are fantastic! You know that TV programme with Michael Barrymore, Kids Say The Funniest Things? Well, something like that. Except, well, I don't mean it in that I find them cute. I'm probably being quite harsh because I laugh at them. I especially love the really thick kids. Of course I don't actually point and laugh, I just snicker to myself. The other teachers don't seem to have the same sense of humour as me and so I have no choice but to laugh to myself.

In Foundation we have The Sad Book and, if a child is naughty, their name goes in the book with a brief description of what they've done wrong. I love reading it because it's always so entertaining! There have been four entries this week:
Charlie - For lifting Ellie's skirt and showing other boys her knickers. Repeatedly.
Dylan - For smacking Jamie's bottom very hard. Said it was because he'd been naughty and so he deserved it.
Camilla - For stealing 25 "Super Star" stickers from Mrs B's desk and covering her t-shirt with them.
Emre - For trying to hammer nails into the white board and other children's ears after being told by Mrs F that it was dangerous.
How can you not find that hilariously funny?? Come onnn... it's a child, hammering another child's ear! With a plastic mallet! And plastic nails! But no. When I read it and turn to another member of staff to invite them to join in the hilarity, I get shocked faces and "I know... isn't it awful?", instead! I know we're supposed to take it seriously at the time, but what harm is there in laughing about it afterwards, out of the kids' earshot?!

An 8yr old n the playground today:
"Is Charlotte really dead?"
"Who's Charlotte? And why would she be dead?"
"We saw her die, yesterday, on the playground. My dad said she's dead. Can I go to her funeral?"
Turns out Charlotte fainted yesterday. I just loved how out-right the questioning was, with no concern for Charlotte whatsoever.

4yr old Isabel today:
"Guess what, Miss C, guess what?"
{Long pause while I pretend to think.}
"My knickers are right up my bum!"

"Zack, why are you walking funny? Do you need the toilet?"
"No, I'm being a chocolate penguin. With a marshmallow hat."
"Oh, of course, how stupid of me! Carry on!"

Loving the Ultra Chloraseptic Anaesthetic Benzocaine Throat Spray

I feel really rather rubbish. Today was the first day where I was sat in the classroom and thought I really don't want to be here - my throat was killing and my head was banging. 4 year olds understand "We're going to play a quiet game today because Miss C doesn't feel very well", but they act on it for about 5minutes and then it's out of the window and they're wailing at me again in very high-pitched voices. It's not their fault I'm not well, so I can't get cross with them.

I had to cancel drinks with Liz this evening because I knew I needed to give my body a night off. I'm meeting Caroline tomorrow night for drinks, and I can't cancel because I let her down last week. In fact, tomorrow is rather manic; I'm getting my hair cut, going swimming, having dinner with Padre, and meeting Caroline. All from 4pm onwards. This isn't going to do my body any favours, is it?

I'm adamant to still live my life to the full and not let this World Of Work kill my social life. But to what costs? Maybe I do need to give in a bit.
Regardless, this weekend I am off to Brighton to watch Becca's cheerleading competition, and see Ludo again. We met him on holiday and, if he can make the effort to fly from the South of France to see us, I can make the effort to hop on a train to see him... Even if it takes 10 bottles of Ultra Chloraseptic Anaesthetic Benzocaine Throat Spray to get me there.





I can't decide whether or not buying these beauties is a good idea. They're exactly what I want, but they're £75 and, although I have to admit to not really putting in much effort, I've not seen anything else for cheaper. Yay or nay? I should really stop spending so much money... but...

The World Gone Mad

This afternoon I discovered my class being taught Baa Baa Black Grey Sheep. You know, that well-loved traditional nursery rhyme? Yea, I was taught it differently too.
I thought it was just rumours being spread about there being a ban on singing Black Sheep, but sadly not.

Baa baa grey sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.
One for the kitten and one for the cat,
and one for the guinea pig to knit a woolley hat...

SERIOUSLY?? Has anyone ever seen a grey sheep, anyway?

I meant to ask the teacher at the end of the lesson why the hell she was teaching that version, but I forgot to mention it.

Happy Days

Oh today has been fantastic!
Since I started working at School, I've really loved every day. I've come home tired, but I've never come home not wanting to go back. So it's a sure sign that this is what I'm meant to do, isn't it?

Wednesdays are my favourite days in school. Wednesdays are when I'm left to my own devices for half an hour; just me and the kids. I'm generally told what to do - handwriting practice - but they're my lessons. This morning I got my glorious half an hour and I managed to get the class behaving perfectly. When their teacher nipped in to collect something she found them sat at their desks, in near silence, beavering away. It was ace, and I felt so proud. The french teacher was running late, so I managed to have a bit of extra time with them and got the class singing... I was in my element!

I had this afternoon off so I managed to sort my life out a bit. I organised meetings with banks, got waxed (with my new favourite waxist!), and got in a bit of retail therapy. I cycled to and from the town centre... Since the doctor forbid me from running for four months I've really craved some form of exercise. I'm only allowed to cycle or swim until I've gulped down my monster pack of anti-inflammatories. But, after this afternoon, I can at least be seen in my swimming costume without having a Miranda moment!

And tonight (Matthew) I'm going to be... Drinking lots of white wine with my lady friends!

I'm going to do something I shouldn't...

This whole "World Of Work" I appear to have been inadvertently baptised into, is leaving me with little else in my life. Starting work at 8.30am means I'm exhausted by the time I get home at 4pm. I'm unable to keep my eyes open past the Ten O'clock News!

So tonight I'm rebelling. I'm bringing back the student-style Mid-Afternoon Nap, followed by student-style Midweek Drinking. Just don't tell my Mum.

Tomorrow I may be a horrible mess. I may spend all morning constantly yawning. I may have hangover breath which, hopefully, will be so laced with vodka it'll knock the kids out with one exhale.

But... I need to do it for my sanity! My journal has descended into whines about children and plasters and family! Where are the boy-dramas? Where are the videos of me singing drunken kareoke? Where are the posts about recent shopping trips to buy over-priced, but beautiful, clothes? This was supposed to be my year out to enjoy myself... and I won't let it turn into my year out to become a housewife!

Angry Voice

Ugh, bad day! It was bound to be a bad day after the long, awful weekend I've just had. I'll rant about that later.

This morning:
A mother tried to cause trouble because apparently I'd used the wrong type of plaster on Friday when her daughter cut her knee. How was I supposed to know there was a right and wrong type? I just got the child thrown at me with blood oozing through her tights and told "She might need sorting out, have a look." So I sorted her out.

Today I was told to keep an eye on the 4yr olds playing outside all morning. When it came to Tidy-Up Time I had to use my Angry Voice because bratty boys were fighting with broomsticks. Then when it was tidy one of them kicked over a pile of (neatly stacked) bricks. The class teacher appeared, turned to me and said "You do know it's Tidy-Up Time, don't you?" staring at the heap of bricks at my feet.

I hate Foundation. I hate the 4yr olds. Give them to me when they know left from right and right from wrong.


Updated 5pm:
To top it all off, I discovered a note in my handbag from my mother with "helpful" suggestions on what I should do in the classroom this afternoon . Would the School Secretary normally give a Classroom Assistant lessons on how to do her job?
Not only am I living with my parents, but I'm working with one of them. Anyone think a nervous breakdown is on the horizon?

And the award for most fashionable Teaching Assistant goes to...

According to an 8yr old called Bryony; I looked very pretty today.

You'd think that would be a compliment, but the surprised look accompanying the comment left me rather disheartened. I worked with Bryony's class last year and, judging by the shock on her face, apparently this is the first time she's noticed I'm a girl, and the first time I've looked good.

My shoes also got a a fair few compliments from other members of staff. One even asked what size I am as if she were about to ask if she could try them on.

I feel like I deserve a gold star, or a Well Done sticker.

I mean, yippee! - I have shoes that make middle-aged mumsy-types jealous, and I've finally managed to impress Yr3! C'mon!!