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I know him so well....
'You must read this' said my ex fiancee, the former love of my life, my previous partner in crime (and housing)... he to whom, but for a moment of indecision and commitmephobic behaviour (on my part), would be my husband and father to my children.
He thrust a book into my hand.
'I KNOW you will love this Daise. The whole time I read it I thought about how much you would love it'.
I took the book.
I managed to get about 1/3 of the way through the Da Vinci Code before the desire to tear out my own eyes (sorry Em) and eat them became too great.
The moral?
Never ever assume that anyone knows anything about you at all. Even those who loved you best in the world could possibly be misguided enough to suggest that you read the most overrated pile of bullshit and drivel ever produced on a printing press.
Rough as a....
As I am in my Pj's and the boy has gone to get me cake and a sausage roll... I think we can safely assume that I got really pissed last night.
...you should see the state of my kitchen!
Dippy tube karma...
I have had a stupidly over-epic journey home across London this morning. The queue at my starting point was far to big, so I jumped on the train and then batted my best eyelashes at Victoria and explained sweetly about how my ticket flew out of my hands and on to the train tracks just as the train came round the corner. However, this time blagging wasn't as easy as I've found it in the past. I wonder if its the increased security on Londons transport network that almost failed to get me through the barrier or whether grown ups lose the ability to lie convincingly (where would they have put me if they didn't let me through though?). Anyway, it was only when I told him that I was completely happy to buy another ticket that he released me and told me to go and buy a ticket.... which of course, I didn't.
Instead, I realised that I hadn't had any caffine this morning at all and I was feeling very strange and fuzzy... So I spent the next 15 minutes trying to decide between coffee and a muffin at Millies, a bagel based breakfast or a Krispy Kreme doughnut (although they are not as fun now that you can buy them everywhere) and wandering between the three stalls in a confused and slightly paniced way. In the end I bought some yummy pants from Knickerbox instead.
Pants are wonderful but they don't kick start your system very well, and that must have been the reason that, finally leaving Victoria Station, I went the wrong way on the jubilee line for a while, before realising and then on disembraking the tube, getting lost in one of those weird newish stations that looks like any second you are going to encounter Sigorney Weaver, dripping in slime and clutching a lazer gun.
Anyway, I am home now, showered and dressed and coffee'd up to the eyeballs...
So, Doughnuts, Muffins or Bagels....??
Things that are great about being a grown up...
1. You can drink gin at 11.30 on a Tuesday morning
2. You don't have to call to stay out late...
3. You can take 'sick' days where you don't have to sit in the park
4. You can stay up until 4 am watching TV (even though there is no point and it makes you sick)
5. You can eat crisps for tea
Things that are rubbish about being a grown up
1. Having to motivate yourself to work.
Lazy blogger.
Today I have learned that I love these
and these
and this
Education, Education, Education.
I did my practice journey to work this morning on the bus... because I
wanted to know where I was going to on my first day. It was actually
fairly easy (if not a little bit gentle and slow - such is the nature
of bus travel). When I got to the school I went to look in the history
classrooms (deeply depressing rooms - in need of some serious year 7
art) and then into the history office (or cupboard as it should be
called).
While sitting forlornly in the middle of a classroom I managed to get
talking to the caretaker (who hinted darkly at the grim nature of the
boys whom I am to teach and indeed the nature of all children). And who
remarked on the fact that I looked 'about 19' I assured him that he was
about 10 years out and made my way back down the corridors of the
school, past the strangely silent locker area's and that mysteriously
labelled classrooms.
The place smelt of wet paint and felt tip pens... Soon, no doubt, this
smell is to be replaced by hormones and deodorant.... and I thought to
myself... oh god - inside I am really about 19, maybe 16 at best and in
5 days I am going to be strutting down these corridors with the
intention of expanding minds and pouring glitter into boys dreams....
Shit.