Hurricane Kate, Hurricane Becky and It’s a bit Breezy Sarah

Almost every bath time for the girls’ results in them firstly fighting to not have a bath or tripping over and pushing each other to get in the bath, fighting over the few toys they are allowed in the bath and finally fighting to not get out of the bath. I can only compare it to a small hurricane – the wind gradually builds up until it’s blowing at full force (getting in the bath and fighting over the toys) then there is that eerie stillness when all is calm as the eye of the storm passes over (each has a toy and are reasonably happy. Until it’s time to get out (The second and probably most destructive part of the storm – It seems quite logical and the only thing missing is me boarding up the windows and hiding in a cupboard (which I have contemplated at times!)

One night a sudden burst of inspiration came to me - what did I used to do when there were limited or no toys in the bath…an empty shampoo bottle! Sometimes the simplest items can make the best toys and it proved very popular – the only problem now was there is only ONE bottle! So although this great inspiration calmed the stormy waters for a while, as I showed them how to fill the bottle with water and squirt it back into the bath (or at each other), it soon turned into chaos as toys were quickly being lobbed at each other and grabs made for the bottle! (Sarah scored out of it though since she wasn’t interested in the bottle and ended up with all the toys). Eventually after some negotiating they took turns with the bottle and I am now using extra quantities of conditioner on my hair to try and get another bottle faster and avoid the next watery war. In fact I’m using that much conditioner my hair is so shiny and smooth I’m sure if a bird shat on my head one day it would just slip off like an egg of a spatula! (I’m now hoping that theory will not be tested by any birds!)

Snails still striking!

It would appear the offer of racing stripes and extra slime was not good enough for our striking snails as they are planning another protest for all of this week!

When I heard the news on the radio I went straight out to see if my striking garden pest was following suit. He wasn’t, and a slug was now occupying the space on the leaf. As I walked away almost disappointed that my own personal garden striker was protesting elsewhere it suddenly occurred to me that a snail without a shell is…A SLUG! So he’s obviously seen the stripes and either sent his shell away to be cleaned or has sent it to the snail union who are deliberating how good or bad this looks with Royal Mail? Either way my poor little striker is going to have a few cold nights ahead of him!

I wonder how long this can last for as it’s only going to work out bad for the snails – The longer they are striking the more undelivered mail piles up, so they are going to end up working harder than before catching up on the backlog.

I still think they should call in some reserves – I saw some spiders hanging around doing nothing today except waiting for some flies to join them for tea. And the ants…they would probably work for sugar cubes so pay wouldn’t be an issue? Oh well yet again I am left waiting, although I’m planning on bribing the shell-less snail with a little blanket and hot chocolate tonight to see if he will maybe go and get my mail?

What are the chances?

OK its 7:30pm, the girls are tucked up in bed and you feel like a good long No.2 with a magazine or good book. You get comfortable on the throne, open your page and…knock, knock, knock goes the door…Oh great!

A few questions pass through my mind quickly – Who could that be? Should I ignore it? What if it’s important? Why now…at this very moment!? Another knock at the door gets me up from the seat, clean up quickly and rush downstairs now thinking “Oh god whoever it is will have just heard the toilet flushing and with my stuffy nose I don’t know if any smells are lingering either. As I walk briskly through the kitchen I also notice the mess of supper dishes that I was going to clear once I had relieved myself….great now they are going to think I’m a pig too!

Maybe I shouldn’t answer the door, but there’s no curtains on the kitchen window and there’s a chance they might have seen me approaching, if not then they surely would have heard me and possibly even smelt me (by which I mean my brain with all the hard thinking I’ve been doing in the last minute!)

So there’s no choice I open the door to a young lady with a blue RSPCA vest on, 15 minutes later I’m holding a thank you for joining pack and showing Laura (having been formally introduced for the paperwork) to the door. Just before she leaves she asks to borrow the toilet…much to my dismay I politely say “no worries” and escort her upstairs to the bathroom where I’m hoping to god there’s no smell in there or worse I haven’t left any skidders, since I didn’t have time to look back earlier.

She didn’t mention anything – maybe because she could see how tense I had suddenly become and that I was turning a nice shade of red - but thanked me for my time and was on her way into the darkness.

I loitered in the lounge for a while until I was completely confident she had gone then dashed upstairs to finish what I had started half an hour ago!

Wednesday...What a Day

Wednesday - my favourite and least favourable day of the week! The best part of the day is going to Highbury College, learning more techniques of teaching and childhood development, following by a lesson of study skills…ok call me crazy, but I love college and would recommend it to any adult who missed out as an adolescent.

The down side (and I’m sorry it this sounds bad) is the special needs people who appear to have their classes on this day. Don’t get me wrong I don’t dislike or wish to discriminate against them; it’s just the awkwardness between us. I feel I should help a disabled person struggling to reach something from a shelf, or fighting with a door and their wheelchair, but I am reluctant to help because I worry they will get offended that I am trying to help them because they think that I think they can’t manage because they are handicapped. It’s a lose/lose in my mind and I have taken to just avoiding them at all costs during intermission, although this is not always successful.

While entering an unfamiliar building on site one day a little fellow approached me and quickly spluttered “Tell Paula I love her!” Of course my attention was elsewhere…like finding where the hell I had to go in this hamster cage, and I missed exactly what he had said, so being polite replied “I’m sorry?”
“TELL PAULA I LOVE HER!” I’m mean what is that all about? Who is Paula and who do you think I am? I quickly said “I don’t know” and made a break for the next available door, which thankfully was a stairwell so ran up the stairs. Another strange encounter was in the ladies toilets, again, I was approached by a lady who asked my name, then she told me hers and stood there slapping her face for a few minutes before turning and walking out of the toilets. I just don’t get these people what do they want from me? Was she trying to find out if I was Paula? Who the hell is Paula?! I’ve taken to going to one of the toilets in the gym hall that no one seems to use and having my break in the deepest part of the library – I figure it will take them some time to find me in here and when they do they will have to be quiet so won’t be able to speak to me. I’m not being discriminative – I just have a short attention span and can’t understand people who don’t speak clearly and I just don’t want to unintentionally upset anyone!

Anyway getting back to the main story…I’m on a tight schedule to get to and from the college. The morning went really well, we left the house at 7:30, I dropped the kids at the childminders at 8am and walked to the ferry, which I caught perfectly at 8:30am. I was even early for the bus and waited in the booth for 10 minutes before hopping on at 8:50. Thirty minutes later I am strolling into the school and sitting at an available chair ready for the lesson at 9:25 (considering the lesson starts at 9:30 I thought this was pretty perfect timing!).

Coming home however was a different story. I finished class early (2:40) and strolled straight to the bus stop, just in time to see my bus pull out from behind another one and off into Portsmouth without me…Damn it! So I checked the time table - the next one would be 15 minutes away…damn it again!! Eventually I got the next bus at 3:05 and was on my way (on the way I noticed another bus stop, one that was closer to the school and if I had just walked to it instead I would have caught that last bus easily! Hindsight is a wonderful…but mean thing - But I now have a mental note for next week!) We go under the motorway and pull up at the next stop. The driver opens the doors, stands up, collects his coat and bag and walks off. A few brief seconds pass, (which was enough time for my brain to think we have just been abandoned!) when another driver steps aboard and gets him self settled…phew that’s a relief, but time is ticking guys!!!

Another 15 stops and some ill-behaved school boys* later and we are finally at Gunwharf at 3:35! Just in time to see the Spirit of Gosport pull away from the berth…Damn it to hell!!! Thankfully Gosport Ferries lay on two ships during peaks times and one turned up within minutes of the other leaving, so I was still making ground even if it was a little slower than anticipated. By 3:55 the childminder is calling, as she was expecting me at 3:30 but said not to worry and that she was heading out, but the girls were at the house with her oldest daughter and childcare assistant. Eventually after booting it as fast as my legs would take me I arrived at 4:07, very sweaty since I wore a woolly jumper today thinking it was going to be a cool day and having power-walked with a heavy book bag!

I thanked the assistant who also gave me the low down of the days’ happenings, which was basically they had a fantastic time and were keen to come back. Although they need lessons on naughty steps…apparently one little boy was in trouble so had to sit on the naughty step. The girls having no understanding of a naughty step kindly went and sat with him to keep him company. It was a nice gesture, but that’s not going to teach anyone any lessons, so we are going to go home and talk about that one.

Half way home Becky decides she is tired and wants to ride on the pushchair, so I give in, just for the peace and to stop all the starring as a bawling kid walks past. Thank god for Katie being a big girl! We arrived home by 5pm, got supper, sod the house work, put the girls to bed, had a shower and crawled into bed…At least I know I’ll sleep well tonight and my throbbing leg muscles and feet thank me for getting off them finally too!

*Just my luck to catch the school run – I wonder why the bus drivers put up with these little trouble makers on their buses? For a start the cunning little shits were passing their tickets out the window to their mates so they could get on for free – I’m sure they would be getting an extra cheap rate anyhow! Then they sat there feet up on the seats, swearing and smacking each other. I did wonder for a minute why did I want to be a teacher and have to put up with these shit heads, but then I thought that’s exactly why…to sort these little shit heads out and maybe teach them some manners in public! It probably won’t fly, but there’s got to be some hope or every teacher would give up on students.

It's the music that we choose!

While sitting running through some homework for school tomorrow (LOL Doesn’t that make me sound like a teenager again!) I was listening to the Yahoo Jukebox and a newly discovered “My station” section. Having already picked out my favourites (If you’re interested - Razorlight, Killers, Gorillaz, Supergrass, Radiohead…I think you get the gist?) I thought “My station” would have these lined up and possibly other similar artists?

That however would appear too easy for this jukebox and I’m beginning to wonder if I’m in a virtual pub where some jerk has come in, put £5 in the jukebox and selected every random crap song they can before promptly departing the building and stealing my beer at the same time!!!*

I have now worked out a system where by I play the Gorillaz 19-2000 tune (Hence the title) over the top of the crap songs that come on jukebox. And this seems to work swimmingly…listen to start of song, rate “Never play again” and press play on media player. I wonder though what the real effect of rating the songs “Never play again” has on them. Wouldn’t it be cool if when enough people clicked the “Never play again” button did the cowboys country guitar crumble into dust in his hands before he could squeak out another depressing “lost my cowboy boots under the hay in the horse’s barn” song! (That one may already be out though?)

Maybe Yahoo will work out my jukebox tunes one day, but for now at least I know I have a back-up and don’t have to contaminate my ears further.

* I feel I should confess to being one of these jerks one night in the victory bar when playing the chicken song twice! I can’t stress enough that it was because my finger slipped and I did actually stay and suffer the torture with the others - but it certainly made me drink faster! It may have had something to do with Nyree (chuck), although was such a long time ago and I would have no doubt been drunk so can’t honestly remember the excuse?