a. it's always raining or looking like rain.
b. I will stop hanging around in a bathrobe until lunchtime, noticing the need to do lots of housework then not doing it because Sky gave me free movies and The Prince of Persia is on.
c. I have to wear some summer clothes before resigning myself to the annual Autumn palette of 'plum' and 'conker'.
I have just spent hours packing. The Daily Mail says this is normal for a woman, which was very helpful as I was feeling like some kind of luggage loser. The Daily Mail and I agree on a lot; it says people like the same M and S pants as I do, that JLo and Marc were clearly growing apart and that diets don't work but we still want to hear all about Dukan. You just have to steer clear of the actual news. I was at a very smart dinner party in London and found that my study of Femail was key to participating in the conversation. Everyone's at it behind their Financial Times, if you ask me.
Imagine my chagrin when I find within my daily Daily Mail an article promoting a teacher's 'heart-warming and hilarious' account of his post in a Primary School in the Yorkshire Dales. The fella's book is actually called All Teachers Great and Small, which I am sure James Herriot would have summat to say about over his 'bit o' dinner'. I did start to read the extracts but quickly started to skim as I do with stories about wee wees, nativity plays and joined-up handwriting. I am a shocking skimmer; I never read the childhood parts of biographies, I left out all the animal bits in Gerald Durrell and I skipped the entire Civil War in Gone With The Wind even though it's one of my favourites. Younger Sister says this is 'cheating' but I reckon I am not alone in this-how else would people have got through their claimed total of The 100 Greatest Books on Facebook? Skimming, that's how. Or spoofing, of course.
I can, however, assure you that our Yorkshire teacher's classroom was populated by eccentric but loveable and appreciative youngsters, who revered their leader in a delightfully salt-of the-northern-earth manner. Much like my experience in the Primary Sector at the start of Teacher Training; after a week of classroom observation, one child looked up at me-I thought, adoringly- and asked; 'Is that the only pair of earrings you've got?'
You will understand that things didn't get any prettier in the Secondary Schools and neither did I, judging by the comments.
'Miss(matter-of-fact tone), that eyeliner makes you look like 'Elvira, Mistress of the Dark' (No need to know Elvira to get the point)
'Miss,(scandalised delivery) you have got to let me use my straighteners in your store; when I woke up this morning , my hair was like yours!'
'Miss, (shaking head pityingly)that colour doesn't really suit you'
Clotheswise I grant you, it may have taken me a while to work out my LOOK. There was a long period of experimentation. I once rounded a playground corner in a floral wrapover, to meet a class of little girls all lined up and they simply fell about laughing. I can't think why. There was a pair of red suede loafers that I could never wear with anything other than all black(didn't want to look like Rod, Jane and Freddy, obviously) so there were shouts of 'Dorothy, Dorothy!' as I walked up the corridor. These were transferred to 'Robin, Robin!' in my unfortunate flirtation with green tartan culottes, mustard tights and ankle boots. It was the 90's, you know. I dressed older than I do now. There's no excuse for culottes though, really. Men were right. They made your bum look like a bungalow. Or a 'Temporary Hut' as they used to be called in schools.
Adding insult to injury, I was informed during the London dinner party that Colin Firth had been in the local school observing lessons, if you please. Perhaps it's just as well no such glamorous visitor would darken my classroom door. There would be no teaching to observe-just the distinct overtones of Joan Cusack in Working Girl when she sees Harrison Ford; ' Coffee? Tea? Me?' I'd be tripping over my culottes. Nearest we got to celebrity was having Rory McIlroy's girlfriend doing a Business A' Level and looking at him lately, I'm wishing she'd gone to the Tech and done hairdressing.
