It's Christmas on Tuesday!

I'm sure I'll be busying about the place this week and I'm not entirely sure how much time I'll have to update. Then after Friday I'll be in France for a week's training and a week's settling in, so who knows when I'll have the time to sit down and write a blog post.

Last night Drew came home to Leamington! I'd love to say he'd come to visit me, but I think it's more likely that it's because it's his Dad's birthday today and he knew that Becca would be in Leam'. He wanted to meet for a drink yesterday afternoon, and I was looking forward to it, but then his train was delayed by an hour (which meant we missed Wilde's happy hour - £3 for champagne, yes please!) and Mum was in town asking if I wanted a lift home... I was easily persuaded because it was damn cold and I didn't fancy walking back. So I didn't meet him, and I think he was slightly mad.

However, tonight, Becca is home! Yeeeeeeeah! She's having to fit me in somewhere between her family time. She, too, isn't visiting purely to see me; she's back to celebrate her sister's engagement. I'm not complaining... it'll be nice just to see her really. So hopefully I might be a wee bit hungover tomorrow. You never know!

On Monday I shall be sorting out money and buying gallons of Norwegian Formula (thank you Ami). I've just spent fortune at Superdrug.com because they were surprisingly cheap for a lot of what I needed, but there are still the odd few things that they didn't have. I've also now got three people's Boots cards which I will be raping for points!
After properly looking into everything money-wise (thank you so much for those comments, they really were very helpful) I've decided to (not really take your advice, sorry, and) open a joint account with mon pere. It means he'll have access to my spendings, but that will result in me spending less and I think it's probably a good thing. Travellers cheques seemed to just result in me losing money through commission and there were warnings against there on every advice website I looked on. A pre-paid credit card looked to be a good idea, but I really can't trust myself. I remember too well last Christmas Eve when I burst into tears after receiving a letter from the bank telling me I was in financial hell. I still owe my Dad nearly £900 from that...

It's Christmas on Tuesday!! Ok... it's not... but it is in my household!
I'm going to be family-less on Christmas Day and my birthday (Boxing Day), and I don't have the packing space to take a lot of presents with me, so Mumma decided we'd have a mini Christmas a month early! We went to one of those cheap cheap shops (The Depot, or Bargain Village, or something stupid like that) and bought as much tack as we could. We have musical hats, party horns, the cheapest crackers we could find, a plastic table cloth, and I'm about to dig out the old faithful family christmas casette tape. Everything we bought is a different clashing colour - there'll be no coordination or taste whatsoever! Dad's even bought a turkey.

On Wednesday it's my last day in work, so I'm making a batch of Nigella's Intense Chocolate Cookies because I made them a few weeks ago and they're, well, intense. Oh, Nigella! I'm going to ruin whatever luxurious/alluring/intense air they might have by decorating them with goodbye sentiments along the lines of "It was nice knowing you", "Have a nice life" and "Auf wiedersehen, pet".

Thursday is going to involve a lot of packing... Hopefully by then my vacuum bags will have been delivered, along with my Superdrug booty, and I'll be able to squeeze everything into one bag. One bloody bag! It's a joke! But it's got to be do-able.

And Friday... Well Friday is when all the fun begins - with a 24hr coach journey.

Answers on a postcard (or comment)

So now the interview is over, the panicking may commence: Bloody hell I'm leaving the country for 5months on Friday!! Shit, THAT'S A WEEK TODAY!

Firstly, packing. I bloody hate packing. I've had to do it so many times throughout the university years that you'd think I'd just get on with it... Well, I hate it. I leave it til the last minute - I once packed the entire contents of my room between 3am and 7am with a bottle of wine in one hand. I had no idea where anything was when it was unpacked back at home, but at least it gone done.

Packing for France is going to be a nightmare. I have to take 5months worth of everything, as well as ski stuff and work stuff. So... Question No.1 - Has anyone used vacuum storage bags before? Do they work?? Will they actually save me much space? Because, I was thinking, salopettes must be full of a lot of air, as must towels and jumpers etc. I've just bought some from Amazon and spent more on postage and packaging than the damn things cost! But I need to make sure they're here ASAP as I have no time left.

I also, apparently, need some good hand cream because, apparently, with the constant two-ing and fro-ing from warm chalet to cold piste my hands are going to wither and crack. Hand cream sounds like a very old lady thing to use and I have no idea... So Question No.2 - Does anyone use hand cream and, if so, what's a good one? I don't want to come home with minging hands.

Then I need to sort out everything money-wise... Basically, if I use my English account over there they'll charge me to withdraw money from a cash machine. So I tried to open an account at Nationwide which would give me free foreign withdrawals but because I'm just a lowly graduate I have a useless credit rating and so they told me where to go. I could open a joint account with my father, but I don't think I want him to have access to my accounts and see how much I'm spending. My second way of getting around it, would be to open a French account, but that involves having a French permanent address and apparently takes forever so I might as well forget it. The third way of doing things is to use Travellers Cheques... but I have no idea about Travellers Cheques! So... Question No.3 - Does anyone understand Travellers Cheques? I understand that I have to buy them before I leave and then I can cash them when I'm out there. So if I take, like, £1000 worth of cheques in small denominations and cash them as and when I need money, that will work, right?

I'm sure there are so many other things I need to sort out and work out. I just know I'm going to forget something really important. Help!

On top of all of that... I have a week's 'boot camp' training that I'm probably going to fail. They're expecting a really high standard of waitressing from me, which I've really never done. I worked in chain pubs for god sake and the nearest I got to waitressing was carrying plates from the kitchen to the table of a chav/student. Maybe I should have been a bit more honest at the interview... I need to get working on my multiple plate carrying skills and learn how to pour a bottle of wine with one hand.

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!

Cats and Ski

I've been attempting to write about what I've been up to over the last week. Because last night's short, exhausted post doesn't really do it any justice. I've had a fab time! But I've done so much, so writing about it would take forever, and it'll only really be interesting for me to read. Like, Dear Diary...then I did this...and that... and I hate those kinds of posts.

My induction day yesterday has left me really optimistic about going away. Everyone was lovely... there was slight lack of menfolk but I'm sure there will be enough in the resort who are working for different companies. I much prefer working with guys and really need male company sometimes. But yes, noone seemed to be overtly annoying and most people seemed pretty similar to me.

I decided not to join in with the drinking of free wine afterwards... Instead I opted to head back home to give Caroline the send-off she deserves with the other girls. I'd only slept 4hrs the previous night - and Induction Day was 9am-6pm! - so I was pretty exhausted but slept for an hour on the train and then faked livliness for the rest of the evening. Mind over matter... with a bit of help from tequila.

So now Caroline has flown out to Canada, leaving me slightly lonesome in Leamington. It's been strange living here without everyone else, but now my last homegirl has left me... And I've nearly exhausted my university visits about the country. I'm sure I'll survive. It's probably a good thing because it'll give me time to sort my life out and get packed for when I leave.

The countdown really has begun now. They showed us some awesome videos at Induction and I'm just itching to get out there now...

PS. Hallowe'en was awesome; I visited Genever and we went out in Camden dressed as cats.

Wednesday - Liverpool (Mess and house party with the old OTC crew)
Thursday - Will for drinks, Ciaran for drinks, Griff for a catch up, home to Leam'
Friday - London with Gen (House party and Camden. Dressed as a cat.)
Saturday - France Job Induction Day (9am - 6pm with a hangover) followed by Caroline's goodbye meal and night out (with tequila tequila tequila)


I AM DEAD ON MY FEET. Never have I had to leave a club due to such sheer exhaustion.

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.}

Learning not to piss on the carpet.

"What are you up to?"
"Cleaning the bathroom"
"Oh? Good girl!!"

Seriously. Was there ever a more patronising phrase than good girl?? When I argue with my father I'm told what he expects of me, and when I live up to (or surpass) his expectations I'm greeted with patronisation!

I've always had a theory about the relationship between parents and their teenage/adult children... I just think that parents expect teenage tantrums and so provoke such behaviour. After provocation a teenager reacts and the parent mocks the reactive behavior. And, if you treat someone like a teenage idiot, they act like it.

They're doing the same thing now. Since returning home from university, my parents have treated me like a teenager and, as a result, I have slightly reverted back to how I behaved pre-uni. They don't ask, but I feel I should tell them where I'm going and who with. Sometimes I can't be bothered with the questions and insinuations so I just lie because it's easier. When I told them I was going to the cinema with Alasdair I was mockingly questioned; Ooh, is he your boyfriend?? They are the ones being juvenile! I decided in future to tell them I'm meeting a girl, called Alice; it's easier.

I miss having my own house so much. We didn't keep it totally spick and span because, c'mon, we were students after all. But I knew what needed doing and just did it as part of my day. Now I live with the parents and, although they expect me to do things around the house, I'm never totally sure of what needs doing or in what order or how often it should be done. And my mum over does things anyway - she irons everything! and I'm just not prepared to go to such lengths sometimes.
I'm not allowed to cook because that is Dad's thing and noone else's cooking is ever good enough for him. The last time I cooked (pasta) he took it back to the kitchen, added cheese, put it under the grill, added his own seasoning... What a bastard?! I can't imagine the hell that would be unleashed if I attempted to disrespect him in such a way. And, in all honesty, I don't like most of his cooking. It's not what I choose to eat; it's what's placed in front of me regardless of whether I want to eat it or not.

But then I have Mum constantly doing her Little Red Hen routine and Dad shouting about what he expects from me - threatening to charge me rent.
I told Mum to write a list of things that need doing and I said I'd just do them as and when I'd have time. Now whenever I do something I get praised like a puppy. Like I've just learned not to piss on the carpet.

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!!

I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB!

After complaining yesterday that they'd not been in touch, I re-checked my Inbox and discovered an email from Scott Dunn offering me the job I wanted! Woop! I've not heard back from the other company yet, but I don't want the job even if they offer it me. Scott Dunn pays substantially more, it's a nicer working environment, and the company appealed to me so much more. I AM SO EXCITED!
The only possible downside is that they've offered me a place at Courchevel instead of Merribel. But it's only the resort next door, and I've not been to either; I was just going on the recommendation of a friend.

So screw you parents who had no faith in my ski season plans!


Hillariously, I have just received an email from the other company saying that, unfortunately, they can't offer me a job. Ha! I don't want your job! It's rather funny that the job that demanded the least skill; the job that paid the least, don't want me. Maybe it came across in interview that I'd already decided I didn't want to work for them... or maybe they overheard me and another girl in the waiting room discussing how a) she didn't like working with the public, and b) how you've got to "elaborate" slightly on CVs because everyone else does. Mm, maybe that was it.
Although it means I can't tell them where to go, which sucks.