Yeah, yeah, it's back. Take it easy.
Reading:
You know, travel is all very well but I reckon that the nicest way to spend a holiday is doodling around at home. When the weather's good, as it has been, you can tool around outside, taking photos, going for long walks, watching your cats rolling around on the warm driveway; and when the weather turns a trifle inclement, as it has done today, you can adjourn to the couch for some reading.
And I've been reading up a storm, my peeps! When prac started I found I couldn't cope with anything heavier than a little PD James and Reginald Hill for my bed time reading. All very well but a little the same after a while, if you see where I'm coming from. Fortunately, as time wore on and the pressure eased off, my brain felt ready to tackle something different.
So I've read:
- Borrowed Finery by Paula Fox. I've never read anything else by Paula Fox but now I want to. This is a memoir of her childhood, essentially abandoned by her glamorous parents, seeing them only intermittently, and being raised by a variety of kind and not-so-kind people. The restraint of the writing throughout this book is astounding. She could teach her granddaughter a thing or two about reeling it in from time to time. (Not that I'd ever want to see Courtney Love reel it in even slightly - I think she's FAB!)
- Naked by David Sedaris. I loved this book. There were times when I had tears of silent laughter rolling down my cheeks and I wasn't sure when I was going to be able to draw breath. Like Bill Bryson, David Sedaris has a fabulous talent for building up the most ridiculous and hilarious scenes, and also like Bryson he can write with extraordinary and unexpected tenderness and compassion that never even comes close to veering into the sentimental.
- The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler. I don't know why I bought this book because I didn't expect to like it and when I started reading it I felt as though it was a bit of a plod. Then one evening I was making dinner and I glanced over at the coffee table, saw the book and realised I couldn't wait to get back to it. A sweet story well told. How would you describe the voice? First person omniscient? I liked that touch. When I got to the end I told myself it was a little weak, but I think that was because I didn't want the book to end: I wanted to keep reading about the lovely, gentle adventures of this group of people. I haven't felt like that about a book in a long time. It was such a pleasure.
- and something else that I've forgotten.
I can't quote from any of these because New Girl came over to my place and nicked them all.
Because it's a cool, rainy day my blanket awaits me on the couch and perched on the blanket is a pen, a cryptic crossword and Agatha's Murder on the Orient Express. A while ago The Antiquer delivered to me a bundle of Agatha's Crime Collection books - each containing three stories and covered in what he called "granny grime". MotOE is one I haven't yet read so once I'm finished here I'm off for a good curling up with it.
Top 5 Songs:
Love Resurrection ("I want you to grow in my hand" - what THE?) - Alison Moyet
Girls, Girls, Girls - Sailor
Crosscut Saw - Hindu Love Gods
Welfare Mothers - Neil Young
Gaskrankinstation - Headless Chickens
Friday
Thursday
Okay kids, here's where the lesson gets a little freaky...
For the last couple of weeks I was on prac I had the company of another student from a different university. We'd swap daily horror stories of things that had happened in the classroom and share our tips for getting attention, how we got kids to stop misbehaving, etc etc. (I tended to wind up activities by clapping my hands and announcing, "Everyone listening to me." He preferred, "Mouths closed, eyes on me.")
But here's my point: it was nice to have the company round in my lonely corner of the staffroom.
One day, after teaching his Year 8s, he staggered to his desk looking somewhat shell shocked. How bad can Year 8s be??
"Tough class?" I asked.
He shook his head. Not quite. While he was pretty sure the little kiddiewinks hadn't picked up on it, he'd got his instructions confused in the middle of the lesson and, trying to quell the noise, announced to twenty-five 12-year-olds: "Okay everyone: eyes closed, mouths on me."
Even over my braying I could hear the rustle of caftans and some pretty groovy music starting up on a crackly old stereo somewhere.
But here's my point: it was nice to have the company round in my lonely corner of the staffroom.
One day, after teaching his Year 8s, he staggered to his desk looking somewhat shell shocked. How bad can Year 8s be??
"Tough class?" I asked.
He shook his head. Not quite. While he was pretty sure the little kiddiewinks hadn't picked up on it, he'd got his instructions confused in the middle of the lesson and, trying to quell the noise, announced to twenty-five 12-year-olds: "Okay everyone: eyes closed, mouths on me."
Even over my braying I could hear the rustle of caftans and some pretty groovy music starting up on a crackly old stereo somewhere.
Wednesday
It's all meme meme around here.
Quite some time ago Cellobella tagged me for a meme but I was too busy and hysterical to do it. So I'm doing it now.
Seven Useful* Things About Me - With a Twist
(The twist is that one of these things is a lie. Cue Henry Rollins.....)
1. Hazel Blackberry was my Nanna's name. Fo sho.
2. I can't cook rice. My rice is always not quite right.
3. However, give me some leftover rice and I can make yummy rice pudding.
4. Except for a few minutes here and there I have never watched an entire episode of Big Brother.
5. I struggle to remember to change the toilet roll. This gets the goat of the Grumpy.
6. John McEnroe once accidentally knocked me over outside Observation City. He was such a gentleman afterwards.
7. I once told a joke that made my Grampa, The Fuehrer, laugh so much he fell over. I didn't even find it particularly funny.
Now, which one is the lie? The intrigue!
I ain't gonna tag nobody, but if you want to do this over at your blog leave a message in the comments saying that you will.
*Items memed may not actually be useful.
Seven Useful* Things About Me - With a Twist
(The twist is that one of these things is a lie. Cue Henry Rollins.....)
1. Hazel Blackberry was my Nanna's name. Fo sho.
2. I can't cook rice. My rice is always not quite right.
3. However, give me some leftover rice and I can make yummy rice pudding.
4. Except for a few minutes here and there I have never watched an entire episode of Big Brother.
5. I struggle to remember to change the toilet roll. This gets the goat of the Grumpy.
6. John McEnroe once accidentally knocked me over outside Observation City. He was such a gentleman afterwards.
7. I once told a joke that made my Grampa, The Fuehrer, laugh so much he fell over. I didn't even find it particularly funny.
Now, which one is the lie? The intrigue!
I ain't gonna tag nobody, but if you want to do this over at your blog leave a message in the comments saying that you will.
*Items memed may not actually be useful.
Tuesday
Not quite daylight
Friday was the last day of (this) prac for we L-plate teachers. To celebrate, one of my new uni friends threw a part-ay at her house. I was driving so I stuck to my limit of two glasses of champagne. I also stuck to my seat at one end of the table. I felt too lazy to get up and mingle. It was amazing how many people drifted up my way to chat and confide in me the various supposedly naughty things they'd done while on prac. Chucking a sickie was the big one that they felt particularly violated various laws of the universe. Clearly people who've never held down an office job.
During the evening one girl decided she desperately needed more cigarettes. I told her I'd drive her down to the local servo. She offered me money for petrol, which I declined. All the way there and back she babbled on in a really most charming and fascinating way about the various ups and downs of her life, how all she really wanted was to get married and have a family, etc etc. At one point she patted my arm and said, "I feel like you're the kind of person I can tell anything to!" I declined to point out that that was because she was extraordinarily drunk.
Anyway, at the servo I waited in the car while she ducked inside for her packet of fags. She reappeared doing a little jog and occasionally looking behind her - like that woman from the Ikea ad: "Start the car!" I wondered if maybe the place was being held up or something. She leapt into the passenger seat and flung something in to my lap. It was a Chupa Chup, strawberry flavoured.
"That's for you!" she cried. "I've never stolen anything in my life but I shoplifted you a Chupa Chup!"
I would like to say that we peeled out of that carpark in a purple haze of burning rubber but the truth is our exit was pretty sedate.
During the evening one girl decided she desperately needed more cigarettes. I told her I'd drive her down to the local servo. She offered me money for petrol, which I declined. All the way there and back she babbled on in a really most charming and fascinating way about the various ups and downs of her life, how all she really wanted was to get married and have a family, etc etc. At one point she patted my arm and said, "I feel like you're the kind of person I can tell anything to!" I declined to point out that that was because she was extraordinarily drunk.
Anyway, at the servo I waited in the car while she ducked inside for her packet of fags. She reappeared doing a little jog and occasionally looking behind her - like that woman from the Ikea ad: "Start the car!" I wondered if maybe the place was being held up or something. She leapt into the passenger seat and flung something in to my lap. It was a Chupa Chup, strawberry flavoured.
"That's for you!" she cried. "I've never stolen anything in my life but I shoplifted you a Chupa Chup!"
I would like to say that we peeled out of that carpark in a purple haze of burning rubber but the truth is our exit was pretty sedate.
Monday
PS
The crocheted blanket that was draped across Grumpy's knees is an old one made by maiden aunts many moons ago. You know the sort: made from a combo of different-coloured leftover wool (lavender, red, yellow and white). It is, therefore, choc-full of love but not as stylish as this.
Whereas I claim to love crafts and keep a sadly-neglected blog as testament to how little time I put into my various hobbies, Carol is among the legions of people who just get on and do it.
Whereas I claim to love crafts and keep a sadly-neglected blog as testament to how little time I put into my various hobbies, Carol is among the legions of people who just get on and do it.
Layover Over
Last night during the news a story aired about Casey Stoner's second Moto GP win. Grumpy nearly coughed his roast potatoes all over the crocheted blanket covering his knees. He had spied the sponsor's logo in the background and was keen for me to see it also. Once I'd spotted it, I had to agree it did look a little...ahem...untoward.
What Grumpy didn't notice, and which I feel adds a certain flavour to the whole scenario, is that this GP was held in Assen.
What Grumpy didn't notice, and which I feel adds a certain flavour to the whole scenario, is that this GP was held in Assen.
Tuesday
Slowly wipes sweat from brow....
My supervisor from uni came out for her second (and last! woohoo!) visit today. She decided she'd check out my feral Year 10s, last period. I didn't have high hopes for this particular class; they're on the cusp of a riot most days.
But I could have kissed every last one of them as they waltzed out the door. Except, oddly enough, the two who intermittently blew me kisses during the lesson. I came into the class, got the little blighters as settled as they were ever going to be, and introduced my supervisor.
"Is she your teacher, miss?"
"Is she here to mark you, miss?"
"Does she get to say whether you get to be a teacher or not, miss?"
"Everybody, be quiet. We have to be good so Miss hb gets to be a teacher!"
It didn't really make a skerrick of difference. They were still more or less revolting. But they'd intermittently remember their mission and for a few seconds peace would reign.
After the last bell I staggered over to my supervisor, who slowly put down her pen, rubbed her tired and bloodshot eyes and said, "I have no idea what I could possibly tell you to help you with this lot."
The little horrors had been not quite bad enough to make me look bad but just bad enough to make my efforts with them look valiant. May they all enjoy an untroubled sleep tonight.
But I could have kissed every last one of them as they waltzed out the door. Except, oddly enough, the two who intermittently blew me kisses during the lesson. I came into the class, got the little blighters as settled as they were ever going to be, and introduced my supervisor.
"Is she your teacher, miss?"
"Is she here to mark you, miss?"
"Does she get to say whether you get to be a teacher or not, miss?"
"Everybody, be quiet. We have to be good so Miss hb gets to be a teacher!"
It didn't really make a skerrick of difference. They were still more or less revolting. But they'd intermittently remember their mission and for a few seconds peace would reign.
After the last bell I staggered over to my supervisor, who slowly put down her pen, rubbed her tired and bloodshot eyes and said, "I have no idea what I could possibly tell you to help you with this lot."
The little horrors had been not quite bad enough to make me look bad but just bad enough to make my efforts with them look valiant. May they all enjoy an untroubled sleep tonight.
Thursday
Rum and the rest.
Days on prac completed: 2 weeks, 4 days
Days on prac to go: 2 weeks, 1 day.
The irony has not escaped me that all we teaching students are just dying for the teaching bit to be over. Well, it's quite tough you know.
But I can't help but think that teaching is a little like parenting in that the minute you're responsible for all these tender young minds, all the proverbial hoary old c's come drifting up from dank little corners of the mind.
"The bell is a signal for me, not for you."
"Eyes to the front."
"You're only wasting your own time."
"Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about." No, wait....
Days on prac to go: 2 weeks, 1 day.
The irony has not escaped me that all we teaching students are just dying for the teaching bit to be over. Well, it's quite tough you know.
But I can't help but think that teaching is a little like parenting in that the minute you're responsible for all these tender young minds, all the proverbial hoary old c's come drifting up from dank little corners of the mind.
"The bell is a signal for me, not for you."
"Eyes to the front."
"You're only wasting your own time."
"Keep crying and I'll give you something to cry about." No, wait....
Saturday
Made ya look, ya dirty chook.
Grumpy was chuckling. "I got a nibble, didn't I? Admit it, I got a nibble!"
We were cruising down to Rockingham for a coffee this afternoon (like the cuppla crazy kidz we are), listening to Lou Reed singing Busload of Faith: "The goodly-hearted made lampshades and soap."
I turned to him with the beginnings of a cough and a splutter on my lips when he said, "You know, I just don't get it. Why are the Jews so hung up on the Nazis?" He thought it was hilarious.
(We'll see how quickly his sense of humour kicks in when that laxative I slipped into my cappuccino takes effect. Any minute now.....)
-------------------------
We were cruising down to Rockingham for a coffee this afternoon (like the cuppla crazy kidz we are), listening to Lou Reed singing Busload of Faith: "The goodly-hearted made lampshades and soap."
I turned to him with the beginnings of a cough and a splutter on my lips when he said, "You know, I just don't get it. Why are the Jews so hung up on the Nazis?" He thought it was hilarious.
(We'll see how quickly his sense of humour kicks in when that laxative I slipped into my cappuccino takes effect. Any minute now.....)
Thursday
"Now how the maldicion do we get out of this place?!"
Scarab and I went to Ikea tonight - the shiny! new! Ikea. She bought some CD shelves and I bought some boxes, mostly because they smelt so nice and pine-y. I assured Scarab that the shelves she bought would either fit IN my car or on the roof racks, secured with the trusty straps we use to tie down the kayaks. Scarab thought maybe we couldn't manage it, just being a couple of puny females, and that she should get the shelves home delivered.
"No way!" I told her. "Sistahs are doing it for themselves!"
We paid for our loot and wheeled our trolley outside. I instructed my sidekick to wait with the goodies while I got the trusty Subaru. A man came over and asked if we needed help. I thanked him and told him, no, we were fine.
"Sistahs are doing it for themselves," I reiterated to a whimpering Scarab as I trotted off through the car park.
My sweet, tolerant friend watched as I carefully reversed the car, managing to take up two car bays in the process.
She wandered over to my open window and said, "I gotta say that sistahs are pretty crap at parking."
"No way!" I told her. "Sistahs are doing it for themselves!"
We paid for our loot and wheeled our trolley outside. I instructed my sidekick to wait with the goodies while I got the trusty Subaru. A man came over and asked if we needed help. I thanked him and told him, no, we were fine.
"Sistahs are doing it for themselves," I reiterated to a whimpering Scarab as I trotted off through the car park.
My sweet, tolerant friend watched as I carefully reversed the car, managing to take up two car bays in the process.
She wandered over to my open window and said, "I gotta say that sistahs are pretty crap at parking."
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