tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56002822011-04-21T21:37:36.400+01:00Matt's the way, ah ha, ah ha . . . The other day I . . . no wait, that wasn't me.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comBlogger1131100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1081201902892241422004-04-05T22:51:00.000+01:002004-04-05T22:54:24.686+01:00Whoops.
I have had quite the adventure since last I wrote, the adventure in question being the adventure of visiting Chessington World of Adventure. More of that adventure later. Adventure.
Last Friday, I had the pleasure of umpiring some matches in the school's House sports badminton tournee, which was as comical as it was underskilled. The level of play was feeble- they attacked the shots Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1080848136653392172004-04-01T20:35:00.000+01:002004-04-01T20:38:14.560+01:00Very little to add today, as I have to swot up on the rules of badminton for my umpiring session tomorrow. I thought I'd just tell you all how much I enjoyed the Frasier that was on last night on Channel Four. For those of you who know it, it was the episode when Niles decides it is time he did something rebellious and attempts to get stoned on some hash cookies. He fails to eat the cookie (Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1080673328295710772004-03-30T20:02:00.000+01:002004-03-30T20:04:44.623+01:00I, it appears, am little more than a liar- there are a couple more things to say. Firstly, thanks to all those who voted in the site name poll. Silly result, but I did promise.
Secondly, and far be it from me to criticise a member of the clergy, but we had a minister come in to school today (it's a Church of England Foundation School, meaning it gets some money from the church in return for . . Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1080661406134269892004-03-30T16:43:00.000+01:002004-03-30T16:46:01.920+01:00Nothing entertaining today, I simply wanted to say that- once you get the hang of keeping a measure of discipline- it is immensely satisfying to here kids who can scarcely write a sentence producing ideas that exceed the expectations you had for them in regard to grasping what you were trying to teach them. That is all.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1080153943303684972004-03-24T18:45:00.000Z2004-03-24T18:48:13.216ZTra la la, and so forth. This uncharacteristically buoyant greeting is by way of announcing that I think I might be finding my feet in my new school.
For those of you who pay close attention, the news that I have switched from an all-girls Grammar school to a mixed high school (from which the top 20% of kids, ability-wise, are siphoned off to the local grammar schools) will come as no surprise. Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079981414990473072004-03-22T18:50:00.000Z2004-03-22T18:52:44.560ZThe new poll is going swimmingly, although somewhat unfortunately the current leader is also the current name of someone else's site (see the new link under 'Friendly Little Blogs'). The reason for this is that I suggested that name to this new blogger, in jest, only to see it adorning the top of their page within moments. If Mr Flossie . . . wins then I will have to start some sort of campaign Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079894289759739132004-03-21T18:38:00.000Z2004-03-21T18:40:36.623ZI have instigated a new poll (see down there on the right). Please vote the dickens out of yourselves and whatever is winning a week hence will be the new site name. Yes it will.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079640731101291122004-03-18T20:12:00.000Z2004-03-18T20:14:35.390ZAhoy-hoy. Encountered a strange regional delusion today when, upon hearing that I'm from 'up north', kids in my class asked me, repeatedly, to say 'bubble', apparently in the belief that the results would be hilarious to a near fatal degree. I refused. Idiots.
Excitingly, I have the day off tomorrow to go to Canterbury and engage in a course on teaching multiculturalism and diversity through Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079551449931058772004-03-17T19:24:00.000Z2004-03-17T19:26:33.106ZI find myself indignant with consumer based outrage. I purchased a sandwich today, from my local supermarket, that proclaimed itself an 'all-day breakfast'. It lasted no more than five minutes.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079367559980670362004-03-15T16:19:00.000Z2004-03-15T16:21:40.996ZKat expresses disbelief that we have to look to Korea for political high-jinx, citing PMQs as an entertaining mode of discourse. However, our version is pretty tame compared to that of Australia, where the following insults have been flung in the name of political debate:
scumbags
criminal garbage
sleazebag
stupid, foul-mouthed grub
piss-ants
mangy maggot
perfumed gigolo
gutless spiv
boxhead
Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079293956175863572004-03-14T19:52:00.000Z2004-03-14T19:54:55.890ZI learn from the BBC News website that Toyota has unveiled a robot that can play When You Wish Upon A Star on the trumpet. This might be, to paraphrase somebody or other, the biggest waste of money since Christina Aguilera's father bought her pyjamas.
In other news, I see that the government of South Korea is proving to be the most exciting political arena of the moment (again). This time, the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079048199434356502004-03-11T23:36:00.000Z2004-03-11T23:38:56.670ZIncidentally, not that anyone is in the slightest bit interested, but the poll results show that the majority of people are drinking my drink. You are all horrid. New poll to follow in the briefest of week-long intervals.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1079047705646120522004-03-11T23:28:00.000Z2004-03-11T23:30:42.950ZWhoo, and indeed, choppsy. I taught my first lesson at my new lower ability, higher sass-mouth school today, and I'm pleased to report that it went very well. I had worried a bit- not only because these kids are a bit ruder and denser than many, but also because my mentor is a rather shrill and humourless teacher and has had problems with most groups I have seen her teach- but the ol'Duggins Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1078857628186626152004-03-09T18:40:00.000Z2004-03-09T18:42:43.030ZI have started work at my new school this week, which is exciting, if a little nerve wracking. My mentor is a trifle off her head, which is itself adorned with a shrub of dyed-red hair, but seems content to let me have quite a bit of freedom, which is fine by me. The school, unlike my last one, has a smoking room- excellent development- and rather than being the only student there (as I had been Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1078349554079072502004-03-03T21:32:00.000Z2004-03-03T21:34:43.280ZFirstly, allow me to apologise for the vast interlude of silence that has punctuated this site in the past weeks. This has been for no good reason, and I can only offer my sympathies for what must have been a deeply harrowing and difficult period for all of you.
Today, I find myself a slave to the big brand names, slavishly showing devotion to high street fashion and seeking to somehow make Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1076543241100947402004-02-11T23:47:00.000Z2004-02-11T23:49:09.030ZAware of the slightly nerdish leanings this manner of post portrays, there is only one, albeit protracted, quote from Director's Commentary tonight, in which the incomparable Rob Brydon produces a comic monolouge of purest, shimmering whatsit:
"I remember my Father's will being read . . . by him. He, er, he wanted to see the look on our faces when we knew what he'd left us. He left me a watch- aMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1076538621380855882004-02-11T22:30:00.000Z2004-02-11T22:32:09.466ZA new and somewhat uninteresting poll, then, has entered the site. I have no idea why- just curious I suppose (or 'guess', for our more yankeefied readery).
I haven't much to add. I've taught my last lesson at my current school, moving on as I am to a mixed high-school in a short while. A bit sad really, but then sentimentality has never been a strong point. They don't call me the ice-man . . .
Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1076356607832922112004-02-09T19:56:00.000Z2004-02-09T19:58:33.420ZI'll murderize the lot of 'em. My Y13 (that's upper sixth in old money- 17 and 18 year olds) have handed me, for the most part, a set of essays that could be best described, in the words of Chris Morris, as ' rabid, pig-ignorant and stultifyingly ill-informed.' Some of them can't tell the difference between an analysis of society and a system of governance. Lord help them when I get hold of them.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1076003935250204452004-02-05T17:58:00.000Z2004-02-05T18:00:36.716ZWell, I told ya. That Director's Commentary is the funniest thing since sliced kittens.
"Oh yes, Directing on instinct . . . . . I always had very bad instincts."
"He was medically a dwarf, and narrowly missed out on the role of the little robot R2D2 in Star Trek . . .what am I saying, it was Star Wars and then Return My Jedi."
"The bread there- see what I've done? It symbolises life . . . .Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1075927415092223652004-02-04T20:43:00.000Z2004-02-04T20:45:15.860ZI thought I'd add another post, as you people need to be informed of the state in which we find our nation's youth. I'm offering a small sample of some work from various students (anonymous, of course) in the hope that you might come to a fuller understanding of what we teachers see everyday- it will make you quiver.
These extracts are not intended to amuse- I wouldn't like you to think that weMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1075918959693688412004-02-04T18:22:00.000Z2004-02-04T18:24:20.653ZI don't know if you managed to catch it at all, but if not, you should certainly make time in your diary to catch the excellent 'Crisis Command' on BBC2 (Tuesday 9.00pm) next week.
the basic premise of the show is that three members of the public at large are placed in positions of absolute authority during an unfolding and implausibly catastrophic situation. In this weeks episode, two blokes Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1075748040217104522004-02-02T18:54:00.000Z2004-02-02T18:55:38.763ZHello there. Sorry for the lack of activity, but business is a constant companion and the confounded hillock of my work load turns my posting regularity, once the proud standard bearer of timeliness, into bollocks.
Not really very much has at all happened even, as they say, although I did have the Y11 History group- possible nickname, "The Self-Obsessed Talk-Noises"- again today, which always Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1075157291746973502004-01-26T22:48:00.000Z2004-01-26T22:49:43.746ZHo hum. Little to talk about today, so let's abuse and laugh at an aging celebrity.
Turning to page 32 of this week's Sunday Mirror Magazine, we find an advertisement for 'The Cliff Album'. As you might have guessed, this is a product endorsed by and featuring Cliff Richard. What is slightly more confusing is that this is not a musical compilation, but rather a 'fabulous collection of twelve Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1074804635733504852004-01-22T20:50:00.000Z2004-01-22T20:52:03.420ZGlad to see that many of you are availing yourselves of the new poll I installed yesterday (it were a bugger to get through the door, I'll tell thee that fo'nowt). Current standings show that you are a bunch of ne'er do well Wizbit enthusiasts. There's a turn up for the books and no mistake.
In boring news, I have my floor back and my shower now works like a wet dream, as it were. I couldn't be Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1074713581366803652004-01-21T19:33:00.000Z2004-01-21T19:34:28.390ZWell now. On the advice of various concerned parties, I have switched my commenting facilities to the more user friendly, and indeed usable, Haloscan. My brother will be pleased to note the startlingly impressive language, no doubt.
Not much to report today- my bathroom remains floorless and, as a result, I hurtle toward TOD (trampesque odour disorder) with gathering speed.
Just one school Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1074629438657696692004-01-20T20:10:00.000Z2004-01-20T20:12:04.903ZA near fatal attack was perpetrated against my person this morning. It was an experience that has left me not a little shaken.
I was wending my way through the back streets of Ramsgate en route to school and had just turned into a wee sidey street, when I noticed a dog on the right hand side of the road. Egad, I thought, that hound is bound to attempt a savaging of my bike/leg/face. Little did Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1074540216440576902004-01-19T19:23:00.000Z2004-01-19T19:25:01.483ZDo you see? I've added some more bloggy type people to that list o'links. Sing ho for my magnanimity.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1074539277894832622004-01-19T19:07:00.000Z2004-01-19T19:09:23.153ZLet's start today with a startling display of mental acuity from one of my loathsome Year 11 History group.
We were doing an introduction to the 'Irish Question' (no cheap jokes please) and were examining a source that showed four cartoons through the ages depicting Irish views of the English and vice versa. One, from 1882, had the Irish represented as a sort of hybrid monster-beast. One of the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1074110753283544462004-01-14T20:05:00.000Z2004-01-14T20:07:13.686ZWill the hordes of clap-trappery never desist from their incessant spouting. Today is the third in succession that I have swayed, open-mouthed in astonishment, as some vacuous tripe comes swanning from the rouged face-hole of some ignorant girl-tart.
If you have ever heard such slant headed bollockery than the following, let me know:
"I think that if there weren't any other ethnic cultures in Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1073932547294819042004-01-12T18:35:00.000Z2004-01-12T18:37:05.263ZWellity, wellity, wellity. It seems we may have worked out who the mystery texter was, although I'm not going to post that here for fear of causing embarrassment either to the person involved, or possibly to myself if I prove to be wrong.
On a more distressing note, a new next door neighbour has arrived on my corridor. Adam and Tom moved out to Canterbury at the weekend- I have stayed put as my Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1073830707396567522004-01-11T14:18:00.000Z2004-01-11T14:19:44.500ZI'm back then, as you will doubtless have noticed, from my holiday break. Not all that much has happened over that period, and we are still no wiser to the identity of the mystery texter- not that it matters much now.
News, however, on the academic front where the kindly folks at the CCCUC Education department are to pay me a not insubstantial amount of money for the privilege of publishing my Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1072028522236105532003-12-21T17:42:00.000Z2003-12-21T17:42:58.326ZWell, that's school over for the term and I'm going back up north tomorrow for Christmas with the family. Not the family, obviously. My family, I mean.
The last day of term was predictably jolly, with the pantomime being a wholesale triumph. The appearance of the PGCE students as children singing Christmas songs was greeted with widespread hysteria, a reaction that I put down to the fact that I Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1071773265539444692003-12-18T18:47:00.000Z2003-12-18T18:48:38.796ZI forgot to tell you, I've been to see Return of the King. It's rather good. At certain points I couldn't refrain from shouting out "BLAMMO!" at highly audible volume. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I would like a horse and some armour for Christmas, then those Year 11s will see who is whoms boss.
Prior to the screening, I visited what has now become my favourite chinese restaurant in the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1071772963944836342003-12-18T18:42:00.000Z2003-12-18T18:43:37.263ZTis the season to get merry....so sang Edward the Confessor, and it's a sentiment as true today as it ever will be.
Tomorrow is the last day of school (whoop-de-lah) and we finish early (or should that be earlier?) and are decamping en masse to the most convivial public house we can find as soon after 2.15 as possible.
The last week of school before Christmas is, as I'm sure many of you Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1071399508449181222003-12-14T10:58:00.000Z2003-12-14T10:59:17.060ZOoh, I forgot to write this bit in my earlier report, but it was the funniest thing that happened at the school disco. I was checking that all our girls were having a fun-tastic time, when the following exchange took place (the names have been changed to protect the innocent/guilty)
Me: Are you two having a good time?
Kayleigh/Lauren: Yes Mr Duggins!
Me: Have you got yourselves boyfriends yet?
Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1071277145428291982003-12-13T00:59:00.000Z2003-12-13T00:59:52.623ZI'll hark your herald angels in a minute.
You'll all be delighted to hear that the carol service (or services, as it turned out) were an endazzling success. I didn't even wazz it all up once. Sing hoorah for me.
And so to the Year 7/8 joint all girls/all boys grammar schools discotheque. Sweet baby Jane, you've never seen anything like it in all your born days. That is to say, you probably haveMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1071093466256663782003-12-10T21:57:00.000Z2003-12-10T21:58:32.200ZLord knows how this has happened.
I appear to have undergone a period of unintended and wholly accidental 'volunteering for things' which has lead to a rather crowded schedule. Witness . . . .
1. I inadvertently, whilst at last night's parent's evening, agreed to officiate at a disco for Year 7 and 8 pupils from my school (all girls) and a neighbouring grammar school (all boys) for a couple of Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1070720883886970142003-12-06T14:28:00.000Z2003-12-06T14:28:45.186ZI was watching the local news, 'South East from the perspective of a mongaloid with half his eyebrows missing', this week and was presented with a rather odd story, featuring that mainstay of parochial news-houndery, the bizarre vox-pop.
The story in question concerns a rather ill-dressed Kent gentleman who is trying to sell his kidney on eBay in order to raise cash for the education of his Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1070536350948666492003-12-04T11:12:00.000Z2003-12-04T11:13:10.403ZThis may appear to be a little abstract for those who don't know of that which I am talking about, but here we go anyway.
It seems that the person in question, prior to the playing of parlour games with the family over the festive period, used to retire to their room and practice, so as to improve the chances of victory. Charades in front of the mirror, anyone?Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1070481031669047502003-12-03T19:50:00.000Z2003-12-03T19:51:09.920ZLord almighty, when will these kids learn. Not one day- one day, sir- after handing in a piece of work copied so completely from her friend that it was replete with identical spelling and grammatical errors, a girl in one of my classes has handed me a piece of work that is cutted and pasted from a site to which there is a link from my blog for that class. It took me all of three minutes to locateMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1070132926713121652003-11-29T19:08:00.000Z2003-11-29T19:09:21.576ZI've been to London. Again.
The occasion this time was my sister's engagement party, and many persons were gathered at the Pitcher & Piano on Kingsway for boozery and chatter. It was a very convivial evening, further enhanced when we repaired to a nearby club for dancing and, well, more boozing.
Within this club, the highlight of my night occurred. I was idly strolling up to the bar when a Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1069874874491482052003-11-26T19:27:00.000Z2003-11-26T19:28:26.233ZHaving just soiled Greg's site, I thought I'd rush back and explain my rather goofy comments about subject areas. I'm a student teacher, as many of you know, in the realm of Citizenship, which many of you won't. For the purposes of informing you all, and wasting some time until the footy, here is what Citizenship entails:
Learning about:
Legal and human rights.
Criminal and civil justice systemsMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1069873852697724932003-11-26T19:10:00.000Z2003-11-26T19:11:24.593ZWhoop-dee-la, I say to you.
The reason for this uncharacteristic outburst of insensible hollering is that I had, while at school today, my first 'observation'. That is to say, my tutor came in to watch and evaluate my teaching for the first time.
Despite the failure of a data projector to respond to ministrations, rendering my beautiful and awe-inspiring PowerPoint work useless, the lesson wentMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1069356949309950202003-11-20T19:35:00.000Z2003-11-20T19:36:14.856ZHello there.
Happy Birthday to me and so on. Yes that's right. Today I reach the distinctly whiffy old age of something in the mid 20s.
As birthdays go, it wasn't all that spectacular. I had only one lesson at school today, so that was pleasant, and I got a load of cards, which was splendid. Celebrations later will be somewhat muted however, as I'm teaching four classes tomorrow, starting withMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1069183342497416142003-11-18T19:22:00.000Z2003-11-18T19:22:46.250ZWell I'll be. Indeed I will.
Just the one entertaining incident at school today, which occurred, scarcely credible as it may seem, in a Y12 General Studies lesson that I was assisting in.
The students were reading various 'sources', as the little bits of text in these exam papers are known, and answering question there about- how reliable are the sources? Does this help in the argument for/Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1069099362933909612003-11-17T20:02:00.000Z2003-11-17T20:03:06.013ZI'm in school full time now, so my lesson planning quota has, rather in the manner of the unlucky cat at the centre of many a November 5th urban myth, sky-rocketed.
This has not been helped by the introduction earlier this evening of one of the colleges every more popular 'candle-light sessions', whereby the romantic atmosphere and ambiance of the accommodation block is immeasurably enhanced Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068765630623657612003-11-13T23:20:00.000Z2003-11-13T23:20:49.716ZInteresting news from the land of the giro and baby-piercing (that's Thanet, on the North-East tip of Kent, for purposes of geographical referencing). It seems that, earlier in the week, one of the gormless undergraduates who inhabit the majority of this accommodation block was arrested, no less.
The story, as related to me by a security gentleman who works herein, is that at some point in the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068690779310731272003-11-13T02:32:00.000Z2003-11-13T02:32:56.416ZI seem to be writing a lot tonight, but I have just a quick little question: Has anyone listened to Revolver by the Beatles, not counting the first time you heard it, without skipping track 4? Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068683903357728862003-11-13T00:38:00.000Z2003-11-13T00:38:20.393ZI thought I was quite unique in finding this for you all to read, but I notice, on coming to blogger to post it, that some smart-ass has put it on the news bit of that site. But, seeing as no-one ever reads any of that stuff, I think it's still worthwhile, and has reminded me to get my link to theonion.com corrected. Trust me- it's funny, and blog related. And funny. Did I say that already? Well Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068682341174410392003-11-13T00:12:00.000Z2003-11-13T00:12:18.586ZMan oh Man, this is good. For this whole thing I'm indebted to Kat whose site I visited earlier while trailing about through greg's links. She wrote that she had had her name analysed, so I followed the link and ended up at a place proclaiming the virtues of Kabalarian Philosophy (me neither).
Well, what fun is to be had here. I first entered my actual name Matthew and found that I was Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068675954113388322003-11-12T22:25:00.000Z2003-11-12T22:25:51.340ZVery little to report today- or for the last couple of days- as we have been vigorously preparing for our 'block practice' (when we work in our placement schools full time for ten weeks) and things have been a little hectic, although not, unfortunately, conducive to exciting narrative.
In the spirit of education, and to celebrate the fact that my tutor observed me teaching the rest of our group Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068504551423341112003-11-10T22:49:00.000Z2003-11-10T22:49:08.596ZIncidentally, I shall soon turn ** years old and I am hosting a rather large party. Somewhat unusually, however, I am hosting this shin-dig at someone else's house. All the fun of the fair without any of the carpet-worrying, glass-fretting, burn-anxiety responsibility? I think I can handle that.
All are welcome, although as I'm not going to tell you where it is being held, any of you who turn Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068504353986963092003-11-10T22:45:00.000Z2003-11-10T22:45:51.206ZAh crikey, now look what you've made me do.
I listened with interest to the news on the wireless today. (for non-British readers I should point out that we here on the sceptred isle persist in referring to a radio as 'the wireless' for reasons that are lost in the mists both of time and linguistic study, in spite of the fact that these radios quite clearly are full of wires. Well, I say Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1068050434738693162003-11-05T16:40:00.000Z2003-11-05T16:43:08.343ZLadies and gentlemen, is there nothing you won't do?
That said, I have just perpetrated another error of retail basics of sufficient magnitude to leave me in a moderately severe strop. When I first moved down here some two months ago I was guilty of a minor oversight in that my efforts to purchase a duvet for a single bed were so successful that I managed to end up with a duvet with the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067896498741380922003-11-03T21:28:00.000Z2003-11-03T21:54:57.566ZI have just been mincing around on the BBC News website and I thought I might, in the absence of any interesting events taking place at school today, bring a few things to your attention.
WHO THE....?
A survey carried out by some almanac or another (how many can there be?) has produced some disturbing results with regard to the political knowledge of the citizens of this country (looks like I Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067805443058737582003-11-02T20:16:00.000Z2003-11-02T20:37:21.483ZCreation be and Lo! creation was. So runs one of the worst lines of poetry ever written, according to the modestly comical Book of Heroic Failures, compiled by Stephen Pile. This leads me, rather neatly, onto the subject for today's posting. (Actually, I just sat down to write something because I'm very bored here in Rummaged and thought I might just dribble some words on to the world global highMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067728424489318382003-11-01T23:10:00.000Z2003-11-01T23:13:43.390ZOk people. If you have a good hour to spend doing little except laughing like a demented hippopotamus, try going to this site. (I would put in a link, but I found it through another site that uses a frame thingy so I don't have the correct URL)
Go to the link, over there on the right, entitled Hours of Fun and you'll get to bored.com. Once there, scroll down and click on the Humor category on Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067711035949549362003-11-01T18:14:00.000Z2003-11-01T18:23:54.690ZOh to be in Ramsgate, now that Autumn is here. It's really cold. And windy. And rubbish. Bah.
I have spended the last few days, as you aware, in Lincolnshire doing sod all, by way of a half-time treat. Sadly though, none of my family were around so I was left languishing in boredom. Languishing, that is, until I hit upon a great idea and spent all of Thursday watching my Eddie Izzard videos- Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067417836342908932003-10-29T08:50:00.000Z2003-10-29T08:57:15.070ZSing Ho for half term!
I've had a relaxing couple of days doing very little and today I'm going home, courtesy of my friend Amber. This should be a lengthy journey in any event, but she tells me, rather candidly, that she "drives like an old woman" so progress might be a little stately, if not actually slow.
Somewhat unfortunately, Amber's taste in music is of the mass-produced, pop-based R'n'BMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067270979760452792003-10-27T16:07:00.000Z2003-10-27T16:09:39.353ZI've just been outside for a cigarette and noticed some arresting new signs that have been put up in the Hall of Residence courtyard. They proclaim, presumably in response to the window breaking of a few weeks back and in a large, angry font NO BALL GAMES. The sign marks itself as the work of a gentleman who, a trifle incongruously, styles himself the Director of Hospitality. Who said that irony Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067252905264516812003-10-27T10:49:00.000Z2003-10-27T11:08:24.883ZMorning everybody. (Good Morning Mr Duggins)
A quick check about the place has revealed that no-one else has yet seized upon the commenting possibilities presented by the previously mentioned '100 Greatest Scary Moments' programme on Channel 4. So.....
In the end, the actual momentariness of the moment appears to have been irrelevant, and the list actually reads like a list of the scariest Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067180943416467202003-10-26T14:58:00.000Z2003-10-26T15:09:03.116ZI almost forgot. A rather strange thing happened to me in one of my lessons last week.
When we enter our placement schools, one of the 'big ideas' is that it is kept secret from the pupils that you are a 'student teacher'. This is achieved by being known only as Mr Duggins (in my case- it doesn't work the same for everyone. Obviously), never being referred to as a student or trainee, and other Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1067179913679920422003-10-26T14:45:00.000Z2003-10-26T14:51:52.786ZWell then, its now half term and we get a reading week (for which read 'holiday'). Ah, extended days off- its the reason we get into this profession in the first place.
Haven't been up to much really. Ended up inadvertently going out again on Friday night, which was quite interesting, involving as it did people losing their baggage, a memorable cocktail hour and an unconscious American. Apart Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1066946088834318502003-10-23T22:44:00.000+01:002003-10-23T22:54:48.233+01:00A fine mahoc to you all.
I 've just spent three and a bit hours making a complete sows lobe of an essay plan for my PGCE course (that's Post Graduate Certificate in Education for the acronymically challenged amongst you). This essay is a 4000 word assessed effort that we have to have completed by November 12 . . .
Sorry, had to break off then. I'm listening to some be-bop on my stereo and the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1066587897156216602003-10-19T19:16:00.000+01:002003-10-19T19:24:56.923+01:00Well, I went out in Canterbury again yesterday evening, which proved largely enjoyable. We went to an Indian restaurant- not the one mentioned below however, another one- where I dined on Butter Chicken, to my immense gastronomic satisfaction. That is to say, yummy.
We repaired thereafter to the Penny Theatre where we drank many fine draughts of booze and watched the footy- I'll say this, that Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1066475202988193332003-10-18T11:58:00.000+01:002003-10-18T12:06:43.016+01:00Hey-Ho people. I've returned to my humble little room having been toddling off about the streets of Canterbury last night, and Broadstairs this morning, where I was able to purchase a haircut.
I hadn't intended to go out last night, but I was unable to get a lift home last night and I couldn't be bothered to catch the train. Myself, Paul, Danielle and James went first to a strange bar called Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1066326211087467242003-10-16T18:40:00.000+01:002003-10-16T18:43:30.620+01:00Hurrah and whoop-de-whoop. I have, at last, managed to get internet access in my room, which means that I will be able, and more likely, to pepper this site with barely coherent mumbling on a regular, if not daily basis. Let joy be unconfined.
Since last I wrote, very little has happened. The only incident of note was that, having gone to a local public house for the evening and gone to bed lateMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1065968567997371262003-10-12T15:22:00.000+01:002003-10-12T15:22:47.836+01:00Man oh man. If you're after something funny to laugh at, go and read Gareth's most recent post. The lad involved, our own dear Jim, was once my flatmate but, I have to confess, never pulled out a performance of such flair and imagination as that related by Gareth.
On the Canterbury front, we have been doing much work, and much playing. We went out on Friday night after I had managed to get Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1065454155917836492003-10-06T16:29:00.000+01:002003-10-06T16:29:15.766+01:00La de da. No improvement on the 'internet in room' scenario as yet, so posts may continue to be few and far between. I hope to have this all sorted out soon.
As for the continuing saga of the slapdash accommodation, things are strating to improve, if a little slowly. We have been granted wastepaper baskets, a bin for the kitchen and a bedside lamp each, but this is not the most pressing problem.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1064945411174839482003-09-30T19:10:00.000+01:002003-09-30T19:10:11.203+01:00Hey ho everyone. Still haven’t got the internet connection in my room, so normal service has yet to be resumed. However, you are getting something, so at least I’m doing more than my brother.
I’ve been at my school today and have learned that, in order to cover all the knowledge areas for my course, I will be teaching GCSE geography, Religious Studies, Business Studies, English and, obviously, Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1064506624137674632003-09-25T17:17:00.000+01:002003-09-25T17:17:04.110+01:00Well, we have litter bins (though not one in the kitchen), chairs we stole from a seminar room and a working shower, but we remain without the other items mentioned.
However, much to our thrilled relief, the University has been able to do a spot of landscape gardening, namely adding some desultory ferns to the soil beds around the site. Woo, as you may rightly say, hoo.
We visited the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1064249111099183512003-09-22T17:45:00.000+01:002003-09-22T17:45:10.800+01:00Now then. If you had moved into accommodation which you had been assured was state of the art, well appointed and the last word in student halls, would you expect any of the following:
No chair of any kind in your room
No chairs or table in the kitchen area
Internet connections that don't work
TV ariel socket that doesn't work
Shower that doesn't work and then, when fixed, floods the bathroom
Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1064248873016144272003-09-22T17:41:00.000+01:002003-09-22T17:41:12.756+01:00Okey dokey then. Hello again everybody and, again, my apologies for not posting much (or indeed anything) over the last week. As I’m sure you’ll appreciate, it has been a time of great change and messing about as I make my move from Lincolnshire to Canterbury and start my course. Handily, this also gives me quite a bit to write about, so here we go.
The original plan for arriving in Kent was Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1063877869994317612003-09-18T10:37:00.000+01:002003-09-18T10:37:49.620+01:00Ok then. Firstly, I must apologise for my long absence from this site. This has been the result of the move to Canterbury and the inherent messing about, going to lectures and waiting for a computer account that starting a new course entails. I'm back now, however, and there is much to tell. Somewhat unfortunately, there is also no time in which to tell it as I have a ton of reading to do by Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1063199747781983042003-09-10T14:15:00.000+01:002003-09-10T14:15:47.816+01:00Oh deary me. I don’t remember going to University being this harrowing an experience before.
I have spent the day trying to make sure that everything is finally sorted out so that I can register with, live at and afford to exist near Canterbury for the next year and it has left me all of a dither. So far today I have been in contact with my bank, the Inland Revenue, the Accommodation Office, Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1063053868740344112003-09-08T21:44:00.000+01:002003-09-08T21:44:28.763+01:00PLAYTIME'S NOT OVER
Still at the school, that what I am. Unfortunately, due to my rapid fast-tracking through the year groups for research purposes and the attendant rise in the age of the kids with whom I have been spending the days, the incidences of outrageous stories has diminished somewhat. The best I can report is an outbreak of contagious fossil-mania amongst a class of Year 3 pupils (agedMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1062712917482275642003-09-04T23:01:00.000+01:002003-09-04T23:01:57.380+01:00ARE YOU CLEARED?
Good day. As those of you with a memory worth its salt might recall, I have been spending the latter part of this week in a primary school by way of preparation for my upcoming studies on how to teach teenagers. This has proved to be an enlightening and entertaining experience and one that I would recommend to anyone who has a spot of spare time and enhanced Criminal Records Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1062602173174390922003-09-03T16:16:00.000+01:002003-09-03T16:16:13.230+01:00I appear to have agreed to go to some sort of party in Skegness, the poor man's Blackpool, on Saturday. If you can tell me why this is, let me know.
And, for no reason, here is the best line from The Simpsons on Sky One last night. Lisa, portraying Joan of Arc, has just been charged by God with leading the French army to victory. She explains this to the family, at which point an incredulous Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1062600897775321652003-09-03T15:54:00.000+01:002003-09-03T15:54:57.656+01:00Hey Ho everyone. Very little has been happening to me (as ever) over the last few days. I went out to watch the football on Sunday afternoon and, as ever, managed to spill beer on myself, although this time it was in response to an actual stimulus, rather than just my own ham-fisted clumsiness. The stimulus was, as you may have guessed, Lauren’s own-goal for Arsenal, which was as good an example Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1062278546038200292003-08-30T22:22:00.000+01:002003-08-30T22:22:26.043+01:00AND THERE I GO. . . . . .
Good evening everybody. What news? Well, I have left my job at Lincoln University, sorry, the University of Lincoln (it’s a corporate identity thing) in preparation for mincing down to the south east in pursuit of the financial and social advantages inherent in becoming a teacher.
I don’t know if I’m at all unique, but I find giving up a job, for whatever reason, a Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1062072840553321212003-08-28T13:14:00.000+01:002003-08-28T13:14:00.573+01:00I HAVE BEEN TO BRADFORD
Yes I have, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Ha. I trundled over there last weekend as it was a Bank Holiday and tradition dictates that one should go somewhere that is almost, but not quite, fun and spend lengthy periods of time sat in a car.
WELL, NOT YET
I didn’t actually go to Bradford at first, but rather to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, which is always a Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061976086396679552003-08-27T10:21:00.000+01:002003-08-27T10:21:26.446+01:00CRIKEY
Oh dear. As some of you may know, I am starting a teacher training course in but a few weeks time. I would ask you to consider that I have been placed at an as yet unidentified school in Ramsgate, Kent, and that I will be teaching children of secondary age (11-16). Got that? Right, now read this. Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061973537293281792003-08-27T09:38:00.000+01:002003-08-27T09:38:57.276+01:00SARTORIAL FOIBLES OF THE ENGLISH EXPLAINED
I have found a previously unimagined answer to that perennial question, "What have the Romans ever done for us?".Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061971788067975812003-08-27T09:09:00.000+01:002003-08-27T09:09:48.146+01:00SORRY
Firstly, as is customary, I must apologise for the brief interruption in service that has been engendered by the bank holiday. I didn’t go away or anything of that nature (I’m not made of money, damn it), I just didn’t get round to writing anything. I’d been meaning to change that strap line anyway.
WHAT'S HAPPENING IN THE REGION
Watching the local news last week, I was again astounded by Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061543912483732072003-08-22T10:18:00.000+01:002003-08-22T10:18:32.543+01:00Oh man, is this ever funny. Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061475954316471812003-08-21T15:25:00.000+01:002003-08-21T15:25:54.340+01:00LIFE IMITATING CRAP?
As I wend my way to work each morning, I pass reasonably close to the offices of the county's most established newspaper, the Lincolnshire Echo. In the style of many a parochial paper, the Echo has a number of poles strewn about it's forecourt, atop each of which proudly flutters a flag bearing the corporate logo.
I had never noticed it before (who pays much attention to Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061473840122801152003-08-21T14:50:00.000+01:002003-08-21T14:50:40.000+01:00CH-CH-CH-CHANGES
So sang Mr David Jones, or as we better know him Dayayayayayvid Bowie, and he may well have had this site in mind when he wrote that song many years ago.
As you will have noticed, the site has undergone some subtle yet breathtaking alterations. The colours are now slightly less womanly, and I have added, for reasons I have yet to fully understand myself, a hit counting Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061458363717527242003-08-21T10:32:00.000+01:002003-08-21T13:00:45.253+01:00I've just been reading Greg's blog, where he makes mention of an international whaling ban (you'll have to go and read it to find out why), which has reminded me of a Computer Studies project that a friend of mine, named Ross but unaccountably known as Shalesy, undertook during his A-Levels.
The project, such as it was, involved writing an easily searchable database of artists, song titles, Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061457390699586552003-08-21T10:16:00.000+01:002003-08-21T10:16:30.770+01:00I picked up a copy of the Daily Star today, intrigued, as I'm sure we all would be, by the front page headline "ASYLUM SEEKERS EAT OUR DONKEYS".
The thrust of this story is that nine beasts, who worked as childrens entertainers at a Royal Park, have been stolen. The wire fence that they live behind was cut and, it is believed, they were then lead across a golf course before being herded into a Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061456711226166472003-08-21T10:05:00.000+01:002003-08-21T10:05:11.243+01:00It has just occurred to me that there is an inherent danger, given a literal minded enough audience, in performing the song Show Me Heaven at a karaoke bar.Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061293359257329052003-08-19T12:42:00.000+01:002003-08-19T12:42:39.200+01:00I'LL KNOCK THEE BANDY
There used to be an advert, did there not, for denture fixative, which featured a voice over claiming that in order to gauge the effectiveness of the product, they had asked 'denture-wearing actors' to give it a try. Not much wrong so far, but amongst the other featured folk- an old woman enjoying corn on the cob (Before, I'd've had to say no!), man eating steak (Yummy, Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061285552456667752003-08-19T10:32:00.000+01:002003-08-19T10:32:32.440+01:00Mmmmmmm . . . . .CLAMMY
Ouuarrgh. I have just been having a scoot around some other blogs and I inadvertently reminded myself (courtesy of Rich’ page) about a strange beer drinking habit that I have seen the occasional Canadian indulging in.
I spent just over three months in Canada during the winter of 1999, and I was frequently astonished to find a number of my amiable chums adding ‘clam juiceMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1061199699953453082003-08-18T10:41:00.000+01:002003-08-18T12:12:08.983+01:00WHO IS BEHIND THIS?
Back from the weekend, and moving away from the brief but diverting excursion into the cosmopolitan world view of ‘Lincolnshire-Man’ (see below), and I find that my comments facility has been sabotaged and no longer appears to allow posts to be, well, posted. I sense the dark machinations of some shadowy nemesis at work, though what this wretched deed could portend, I have no Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1060950169555230092003-08-15T13:22:00.000+01:002003-08-15T13:27:11.923+01:00POLITICS- TRICKY
On the bus this morning, I overheard the following ethnically sensitive thesis being forwarded by a man who looked and dressed not unlike a seventies footballer, only with the addition of pitted skin and a 'Smoky and the Bandit' T-shirt.
"If they can't talks English proper- I mean proper like what we talks- then they all shouldn't bloody be allowed o'er 'ere, innit? They don't Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1060889969695643332003-08-14T20:39:00.000+01:002003-08-14T20:44:01.113+01:00I WISH I HAD A HOLIDAY
Ahoy-hoy. I received a profoundly annoying text from my brother this morning, moments after I had boarded the bus for the hour long journey to work and the dispiriting toil ahead. It proclaimed his joy at being on an express train bound for Gay Paris. How gauling (sorry). This seemed like an odd choice of destination for Steven, as he has never appeared to be overly keen onMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1060808858534805662003-08-13T22:07:00.000+01:002003-08-13T22:12:22.520+01:00SO VERY TIRED
You’ll have to excuse me if I tend to stray from my prepared remarks a little this evening, but I had very little sleep last night and I’m feeling a touch woozy as a result. As the clock edged closer to 4.30am and the desperation to get to sleep at least a couple of hours before the alarm screeched into life at 6.30 increased, I knew today could become difficult. It did, and so to Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1060695080693045782003-08-12T14:31:00.000+01:002003-08-13T10:56:09.300+01:00I'M BACK
Good news everybody! The boss has decided to ‘work’ from home today, so I have the chance to write a bigger post now. Right this minute. It has already begun.
My little excursion to Worcester was, as usual, a heady mix of jiggery and pokery and, as usual, has left me feeling light headed, vaguely nauseous and as tired as a sub-editor trying to find another alliterate phrase to describeMatthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1060675224116495472003-08-12T09:00:00.000+01:002003-08-12T09:00:24.100+01:00BUT I'M NOT READY!
Hello everyone. Sorry I didn't update stuff yesterday (specifically in regard to my cavalcade of fun in Worcester) but following a harrowing seven hour journey home, the necessity of watching the final episode of Spooks and the overwhleming yearning for the welcoming embrace of sweet, gentle sleep, I didn't really feel like it. Rest assured that I'll get an account published Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1060246206237044562003-08-07T09:50:00.000+01:002003-08-07T09:50:06.230+01:00EGAD! MY PANTS!
Another day of breathtaking heat in the office then, topping yesterday’s mark of 33 by one degree. I was so warm in there that I had sweat marks on my trousers, my trousers sir, from sitting on my ass all day quietly sweltering. This had better have some pay off in terms of weight loss. One soothing benefit I enjoyed yesterday was going swimming, as usual, after a long day in the Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5600282.post-1060159101731516252003-08-06T09:38:00.000+01:002003-08-06T09:38:21.640+01:00CURSE YOU GOD
If there is one thing more annoying than brass band music, it’s having all your work wiped out by some unforeseen computer-based glitch. Such was the case last night when, having written the original version of what follows, the skies suddenly darkened, the wind abruptly rose to a swirling maelstrom, and the power in the house cut out. It was only momentary, but it did succeed in Matthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03222533088699469145noreply@blogger.com