Merry Christmas!

Thank heavens for Pagan festivities. A break was much needed. AND I'm finished my Christmas shopping - and managed to do so without any stress. I'm currently taking a break from making one last present, as it's the most fiddly thing I've ever made and my back hurts.

Soon I will make chocolate brownies and bemoan my lack of Christmas outfit. I went in so many clothes shops - where is all the nice party-wear?

Break over. Back to my tasks.

So much shit gets in the way of real life, don't you think?

Or is the shit real life?

God.

PS

Brian says:

Not building a wall but making a brick.


Which does seem nicely prescient.

Yawn

Leave in the darkness; get home in the darkness; experience a slight bit of daylight on wanderings from one classroom to another.

The Christmas holidays are so so necessary. I'm drearily fading each day, nourished less and less by nightly sleep or by the weekends. Thankfully it seems that everyone else in the department is planning (or has planned already) on watching videos with every single class next week. This unfortunately doesn't ensure good behaviour, however, so it's not like it'll be a total doss . . . but I'd very much like it if it was. Frankenstein board game, Year 10?

If only the holidays actually lasted longer. They always feel like they go by in a blip. Maybe that's just because I'm still off school when others have already gone back to work . . .

So, what's to look forward to in the New Year? Not having to look for a new job (after observing one of my lessons, the head said he thought my teaching was "wonderful"); a Bjork gig in May; forming a garage-style band with Lindsay & Katie; days getting longer; flowers blooming. Not much really. I should plan a holiday for Easter.

To think it's not even the shortest day yet . . .

A Day of Feeling Bloated

Late night chicken kebabs are delicious - but completely unnecessary.

Geordie IM speak

I asked my Year 10s to translate this message (which was posted on my sister's Facebook wall by one of her school friends) into Standard English. They thought it was hilarious, particularly when I read it to them in a high-pitched Geordie charver voice:

DUDE MAN HOW FUNY WUD IT B 2 B A COW!!! a told me ma n laurie n they wer lyk r u takin th mick thats nt funy and a was lyk hello id b a cow wots nt funy about that! n me ma was lyk katie id undastand if u wer ugly n fat bt ur nt plz dnt go as a cow. bt 2 b fair ad b geet sweatin wudnt a? av got a lush dres frm ted baker n a cud wear that n be a cow 4 me 21st. im cany xcitd 4 th birth actualy even tho im guna b old n decreppid! u beta nt treat ursel 2 that hazza p soundtrak or al bray yer!

im guna go chin them 2mz al let yer no th results lv du xxxxxxx

Thank God for cheerful till attendants in town. If someone had been really grumpy to me I think I would have become extremely stressed. As it is, I managed to actually buy some presents for people, rather than get myself a load of stuff to ease my sense of uselessness (aside, with half an eye on the news: my God, Ricky Hatton is an ugly bastard).

Actually, that's not strictly true. A trip to the excellent Help The Aged charity shop in Broomhill really bore fruit. Well, not fruit as such, but some pretty good 7" singles: Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy, The Ghostbusters theme, Israelites, Can You Feel It, Golden Brown and Get Into The Groove. A veritable sweep. Now I just need someone to ask me to play 7 x 7. (I realise there are only 6 records there, but I do have a whole host of other singles from which I could assembly a striking musical montage.)

Anyway, it's fucking dismal outside: rain, a bit of hail, wind, freezing wind at that. I mention this because I'm meant to be going to a friend's housewarming, but venturing outside for a long walk to her house is about as appealing an idea as, well, sitting in the cold and being blasted with ice . . . I love wind and lashing rain when I'm cosy indoors, but being in town before, encumbered by a massive coat, scarf, hat and gloves made me feel awkward, flustered and unattractive.

I'll try to compensate by re-cutting my fringe, I think.

Shatner rules OK

I'm hungover and trying to mark kids' draft coursework essays and getting increasingly infuriated with the lack of detail on the mark scheme. It's not a serious hangover; just one that makes you feel lousy enough to have trouble concentrating and has you acting like a grump.

I'm going to another gig tonight - woe is me. I really want to see some of the bands, but in all honesty, I'd rather curl up in bed and hibernate. Preferably not with a stack of badly-punctuated scrawled essays by 14/15-year-olds who can't embed quotations (despite a lesson on it) or organise their thoughts into paragraphs.

I think I'll go ponder the C/B borderline again and pick at my tiny battle-scar from last night's gig (the Hipshakes guitarist accidently shattered a beer glass and propelled it through the air with his headstock, sending tiny shards everywhere, including my arm. Good gig!) . . .