I'm Back

Hi,
Not much to say today, but keep a look out over the next few weeks.

'Me and Education'

Life at the college
Decidely not
A life that I crave
I couldn't say that
Could drive you crazy
Trails of paper
Teaching is lost
An admin morass
Evenings ok
Adults to teach
They want to be there
Paid for their course
Kids should be working
Forced to turn up
Education policy
Government mess
I give up.

Great Expectations

Not the Charles Dickens book, but what we should have for ourselves and our students.

Susan Wallace (2002) picks up a quote from Virgil which shows that we can achieve if we really believe it. It's been a long time since I've studied Latin, but I'll have a go at translating it for you.
"Possunt, quia posse videntur"

"They can because they think they can".

Cardiff

No way should Gary Breen have been sent off for an alleged 'elbow' on Saturday. What, I hear you cry? Bias towards the men in gold and black? No, look here. If you watched 'The Championship' on ITV1 on Sunday (just how many channels do they have?), then you would have clearly seen that he was jogging towards the half-way line remonstrating with one of his team-mates (any don't forget it was nil-nil at that stage) with his arms out-stretched. Next thing we know the linesman (I refuse to use the PC version 'Referee's Assistant), as I said the LINESMAN was furiously waving his flag. Let's re-phrase that for the purists - he was waving his flag furiously. You know, it's not that I don't KNOW when I'm using a split infinitive, I don't really care (attitude problem).

Back to the plot. Poor old Gazza - the linesman waved his flag like a Cockney on speed during a drive past by the Queen, the referee walked over, hadn't seen a thing (his Labrador was on flexi-time) and promptly sent poor old Breen off the pitch.

Game over. Four-nil. FOUR - NIL I tell you. Strewth.

Babies names

Here's a thing. Would you call your child one of the following?
Mylo, Spike, Luna, Cadence, Fds.

Fd blummin' S?

This is based on a study of 380,000 newborns. Perhaps we should consider studying something more trivial.

Let's get tough

I've been racking my brains lately to come up with reasons why we should bring back capital punishment. It is a barbaric practice, but obviously some people DO deserve it.
Well, I've found one today. Lloyds Bank (and I've been with them for years - on and off) are removing the 'buffer zone' which stops customers incurring charges should they slip into the red by less than £10.

They have followed HSBC with this policy, which means that a customer that slips into the red for 24 hours (probably waiting for a cheque to clear) will be charged £30.

To the tower with them!

What's in the news

Gosh, shock horror, oh my word!
The Daily Mail tell us that Eamonn Holmes has finally succumbed to the ravages of time and gone under the knife to enhance his features. Well, apart from the fact that he's the same age as me, I couldn't give a monkey's whatsit. Who cares what he does? Really important news isn't it?

The announcement that human rights lessons are to be given to kids as young as 11 makes me wonder if our glorious leaders are carrying out a bit of gentle brain-washing, preparing our young chicks for the even more PC world of the next decade. Watch this space.

Sony had better watch out, with their faulty batteries. Duracell are waiting in the wings. All they need to do now is develop a laptop computer that takes rechargeable AAA's and they're away.

Apparently, scientists have studied Mona Lisa's smile (you know, the painting). I should really have a competition and ask you what she's thinking to make her grin like the proverbial Cheshire. This must have been a slow news day at the Mail.

a) John Prescott has quit. Now, be honest, who wouldn't smile?
b) She can't stop thinking of John Prescott in his stocking suspenders
c) Thank goodness that 15th century is over at last.
d) ooh, that's better
e) She had a bacon sandwich for lunch.
f) Leonardo da Vinci doesn't realise his flies are undone.

Answers on a postcard. No, scrub that, click the comment button.


Eh! I've found something even MORE stunning than old Eamonn's surgery. Wait for it.... YES, Anne Diamond has lost 4 stones.


Who carries stones around with them anymore?

Fox in the garden

Lovely aren't they? Three O' Clock in the morning, crying like babies (literally crying, just like babies), and leaving their mark on my back garden.

When I say their 'mark', I am referring to what can only be described as, well, poo.
It may be a trifle indelicate, depending at what time of day your are reading this. You may be scoffing your enormous breakfast having just watched Bill Turnbull on Breakfast Telly. You could be partaking of a little caviar on toast as part of your elevenses or 'brunch' (don't we all). You could be doing just what I have just done, i.e., got the shovel out of the shed and headed straight for the little blighter's doings.

"Nappies!!", I hear you cry. Well, have you ever tried to catch a bloomin' fox? I for one have never, (and it won't happen), tried to potty-train a carnivorous mammal of the dog family with a pointed muzzle, bushy tail and typically a reddish coat (good description, uh?).

Please, please, please send in some comments on this one. You've been a tad quiet of late. Even the silly comments have dried up. What I want are suggestions as to how to avoid this **** appearing in my garden in the first place. Lovely they may be, these foxes, and I don't particularly want to treat my missis to a new furry wrap for Christmas (animal rights folk don't bother to write in - only joking). All I want is to look out onto my garden on a crisp November morning without having to think. "Bloomin' Eck" (or words to that effect) and dive for the shovel.

Mind you, notice that it's always MY job. The missis will have none of it. "No", she says "it's men's work". Funny that, she usually believes in equality.

Discipline at work

A friend of mine asked me why I had been sacked from the factory.
I answered "because of sickness"
"What was wrong with you", he said.
"Nothing", I replied.
"Then why were you sacked?"
"The boss got sick of me".

In my next job I was sacked for stamping on a snail.
The same friend thought it was a bit harsh.
"Sacked for stamping on a snail for God's sake, why?"
"The snail had followed me around all day"..............


The same night my wife bought a new type of sweet from Sainsbugs -
Lemming meringue.

I had great trouble eating it as it kept leaping off the table.

Lesson Planning

There is so much to take in - planning my next lesson (I've only taught 4 lessons so far in my fledgling teaching career) will be like swinging a golf club for the first time:

"Address the ball, keep your head still, make sure your left arm is straight, focus on the back of the ball, deep breath, take the club back in an arc just above your right shoulder, keep your left foot firmly planted on the ground, swivel your hips, start to transfer the weight from your right foot to your left, bring your right knee in, bring the club down (keeping your head still and right-arm straight), shift the weight onto your left foot as you are almost standing on your right toe, strike the ball firmly and follow right through the ball with the club hitting the ground just in front of the ball as your hips swivel 90 degrees to the left; your left foot should still be firmly planted on the ground as you follow through, and the club should finish above your head, pointing away from the flight of the ball".


Me brain hurts. New balls please.

Nothing in particular

Observe the scene in the big house at the end of the lane. The master of the house paces the floor of a palacious front parlour. His elegant wife sits motionless considering the issues of the day. Wildfowl for dinner, perhaps. I must talk to Jeeves about tomorrow's shoot.

"Winifred", says the master. "Throw another peasant on the fire, I'm cold".

Down in the basement it's hard to tell if they have hired a job lot from "You Rang M'Lord" or "Upstairs Downstairs". Nothing really changes. Jeeves polishes his black leather boots in his inimitable way. Mrs Fridgid, cold as ever, just cannot make up her mind whether to boil or steam the peas for dinner.

Nothing really changes.

If you send in the next part of the story, I will publish it. Just use your imagination.