Monday, 27 October 2014

Evidence that Fran does get the occasional invitation despite the risks

I don't get many invitations these days.  That's what happens when, at people's dinners and parties, you tell the same jokes again and again, like this one.

A customer goes into a fish and chip shop and says, 'Can I have a steak and kiddly pie, please?'

'A steak and kiddly pie?' says the shop assistant.  'Surely you mean steak and kidney?'

'But I said that, diddle I?' says the customer.

One of the reasons I love that joke is that I can use it to start off lessons about phonology (speech sounds).  It doesn't always work.  Often I say, 'Let me start the lesson by telling you this joke ..' and the students say, 'Is it the one about the steak and kiddly pie?' and I say, 'Oh, damn.  Have I already done that?' and they yawn and say, 'Yes, about fifty times.  Could you just teach us the lesson and then we can go?'



Anyway, having said I don't get many invitations, I did have one this week, and that was from an old friend and writing buddy Deborah Jenkins who writes beautiful prose on her blog StillWonderingHere.  She said could I be a guest blogger so I have sullied her lovely blog with a post about eyebrows and I suspect she didn't feel she could say, 'I was hoping for something more philosophical/thoughtful/useful.'

Here's the link  Fran on eyebrows

Watch out on my blog at some point for something from Deborah.  She writes like a dream as well as being funny and I know you'll like her.  Have a browse on her blog and see what I mean.




Thursday, 16 October 2014

Evidence that one vowel can make all the difference to a fairy tile

Once upon a time, there was a big mix-up about vowels across the kingdom.  Hence, the not-so-well-known story of the three .....







One morning, the three beers were having breakfast.  Things weren't going well.  Yet again, Mother and Father Beer were perturbed.  'How come,' they said, 'we have a son who is exactly the same size as us?  What the hell happened to hierarchy?'

It was true.  Baby Beer, at the tender age of seven, was as tall and as wide as both parents.  When they went shopping, and Mother Beer met a friend, it was always awkward, introducing Baby Beer.  When she said, 'And this is my son,' her friends sniggered behind their hands, and patted the heads of their own diminutive offspring indulgently.

Every morning, the Beer parents awoke, hoping that in the night some miraculous process would have returned Baby Beer to a normal size.  They dressed him in age 7 pyjamas, even though it was a strain to get the buttons done up.  They put him in a child's bed, even though his froth hung over one end.  They read him bedtime stories such as Thumbelina and Flat Stanley.  They showed him films they thought would help, but when Baby Beer threw their well-played copy of 'Honey I Shrunk the Kids' against the wall and shouted 'Can't you just accept me as I am?' they wept in frustration.  For, no, they couldn't.

His parents visited the doctor to ask for help, but he took one look at Baby Beer, said to them, 'What ales you?' and collapsed into unkind mirth.  They walked out of his surgery with as much dignity as they could, considering they were unsophisticated alcoholic beverages in unprepossessing glasses bought from Asda, £3 for six.  

Each morning, whatever they did, Baby Beer awoke looking just the same.  'You ought to think yourselves lucky,' he yelled at his parents.  'I've been reading Kafka, and there's a chap who woke up as a giant beetle.  How would that go down when you took me down the High Street?'

One good thing about it all was that the disappointment of finding Baby Beer still the same size, day after day, distracted the Beer family from other minor issues such as burnt porridge, broken chairs, and, once, a blonde girl with pigtails they found sleeping in Baby Beer's bed.  None of this seemed significant, compared to the fact that, at parties, doting relatives were stuck for something to say to the child, the old fall-back of 'Haven't you grown?' seeming crass.

The only thing to do was to wait.   And wait.  And wait.

So they did, until Baby Beer was a teenager, and they could walk proudly into town, with Baby Beer's shoulders on the same level as theirs.  They no longer needed to worry that someone would point and say, 'Is he "lager" than you expected?', and hold their sides in amusement, thinking that they were the first person ever to make the joke.

That problem solved, though, meant that suddenly, what had seemed the minor issues .... disastrous breakfasts, destroyed furniture, and that little girl they found snoring beneath Baby Beer's duvet, took on more major significance.

But that's another story.




Sunday, 12 October 2014

Evidence that, for one thing, Fran's going to leave litter where it is

Things I did this week that made me feel silly.

Sillier.

1.  A child at school barged through a door rather than holding it open for me, so that I had to stand aside, and I apologised and thanked him automatically.  

2. On my way to an A level class, I picked up three chocolate bar wrappers and a sandwich wrapper in a school corridor, intending to find the nearest bin, but then couldn't see one.  I arrived at my lesson clutching the sheaf of wrappers, looking as though I'd binged on fast food between the English Department and the Sixth Form Centre.  And I felt as guilty as if I had.

3. In bed one night this week, I dreamt about a giant wooden spider - imagine an arachnoid Trojan Horse, with elbow joints - and woke myself up yelling 'Aarrrggggh!'

4. I was on a train from London to Leamington Spa and an elegant* lady sat next to me, trim and fashionably-dressed.  I tried not to doze off, but I did, and woke with a sudden snort.  To her credit, she didn't move a muscle in response.

* How come elegant rhymes with elephant?

5. I told a joke to some people which didn't come out right, but they were really kind about it and laughed a lot, which made me feel worse.

6. I tried to take my first ever selfie with my mobile phone while I was on a train, but was so horrified by the image I saw, whatever angle I tried, that I decided against it, then accidentally took a photo of the back of a seat instead.

7. I got lost in London because I failed to see the Post Office Tower.








Monday, 29 September 2014

Reasons why I'm feeling nostalgic for my old manual typewriter

I have some observations to make after buying a new laptop at the weekend.

1. PC World is not the place to be when you're already feeling your age.  I had to spend an hour in the kitchen when we got back.  I used my food mixer, toaster and kettle, just to comfort myself that there were some things I could plug in and operate without having to watch a Youtube video first.

2. People who work in computer stores have a lumpy bit under their jumpers.  My husband said it would be where a set of keys is attached to their belts, but I suspect they are the remnants of where the umbilical cord hasn't quite healed yet.

3. Shouting, 'Oh, I must have that one!  Look - it's got a bright blue casing!' is the quickest way to make sure your husband sidles away from you and into the camera aisle.

Fran wasn't so interested in its Intel Core i3-4030U Processor as she could have been


4. Even though your new laptop does have a pretty blue casing, you will still want to hurl it at a wall when you can't work out how to install your antivirus software or connect it to your printer.

5. Trying to get used to Windows 8 is like wandering alone around a Scottish mountain, in a thick mist, while wearing a balaclava the wrong way round.  If you find your way back to where you started, it was a fluke.

6. Until you have adapted to the ultra-sensitivity of a modern mouse pad on a new laptop, you will have to put up with a) a sudden unsolicited increase or decrease in font size on your screen; b) finding yourself about to play a Solitaire game when you were trying to do a Tesco order; c) sending an email when all you'd written was 'Hi - just thought I'd ...'


Blue AND within Fran's technical capabilities




Saturday, 27 September 2014

Reasons why Fran Googles 'Discount Botox deals' on a regular basis

I wrote this article for the Times Educational Supplement in 2010.  I wasn't quite fifty then.  My, my, it resonates even more now.    


Teaching is the elixir of youth?  Pass the cocoa ...


They say being a teacher keeps you young, and to someone pushing 50 who says, "Gosh, is that policeman old enough to be out alone?" this could be fantastic news. If only they didn't just mean inner youthfulness. I could do with outer help; the anti-wrinkle creams and the "give-you-a-fake-waist" vests don't do the job they used to.
I will be interested to see just how young teaching can keep us when we don't get our pensions until we hit 96. There comes a point, surely, when no matter how many teenagers you meet each day, if you can't hear them, see them or remember their names, the benefits of being kept young at heart are limited.
Still, I'm seeing a money-spinner here, and you can peruse my new website www.resourcesforelderlyeducators.co.uk to pre-order a handy whiteboard pen bag which can hang from your Zimmer frame. I've also designed a range of securely lidded coffee mugs emblazoned: "I may tremble, but, boy, can I still teach". Bound to be a top seller, too, are my smart suits, made in association with Damart from cosy, striped dressing-gown material. They go well with the new "of-course-they're-not-slippers" range of fur-trimmed shoes.
But is it true? Will teaching really keep me young? Or will exposure to teenagers merely, by juxtaposition, emphasise how old and fusty I'm getting?
When I'm persuading students to notice how words are juxtaposed and why, I use a practical illustration. I ask for a very short volunteer to stand at the front. I say to the class, "Is she short? Of course we can see she is short. But what would tell us just how short?" Then I invite a very tall volunteer to stand next to her. "Ah, now we can see how short!"
See? Surely being in a classroom with agile and toned youngsters all day will only draw more attention to my bingo wings.
It's not only that. I'm way behind on techno-knowledge, highlighted by Year 10's amusement when I "discovered" the No Show button on our data projector remote control. I could hide what was on the screen? Eat your heart out, Captain Cook - this was a whole new world. In the end, the class sighed: "Miss, please stop clicking it on and off. You'll give us a migraine."
Also, a recent attempt to enlighten a Year 12 English language class of girls that "bachelorette" was the new term for "spinster" met with polite yawns. They had been using the word for years.


And, if only I could force myself to keep up with teenage culture and read Twilight, I would realise it wasn't just coincidence that all the main characters in Year 7's recent story-writing were called Bella and Edward.
Having said this, when I double-checked the Twilight characters' names with my 19-year-old daughter, she confirmed that they were indeed Bella and Edward, then moaned: "Oh, how I hate myself for knowing that!"
So, maybe it's not just an age thing, after all. Okay, I feel better. But a nice cup of cocoa will help, too. I'll put the kettle on.




I don't write for the TES these days, but if you want to peruse any of my columns for them about education, most of them are listed here. The funny side of teaching as seen in Fran's columns

Friday, 19 September 2014

Evidence that senior moments can even happen to junior people

I have so many senior moments these days.  In fact, I think I am in one long Senior Moment and every now and then I have a Junior one: a minute or two of lucidity when I rush around and get as much done as possible.  

But some moments of disorientation happen to everyone - young and old - when it takes a while for things to become clear.  Do you have experiences like these?..........

1. Someone asks if you'd like a cup of tea and then they make you coffee instead.  That first sip .....

2. You put someone else's glasses on by mistake and wonder when and how you wandered into the Hall of Mirrors.

3. You begin to undo your trousers, thinking you have a pair on with one button, and can't get them over your hips.  You've put on three stone in one day?  Then you find they're a three-button pair.

4. Your taxi arrives to take you to the station, so you run outside and hail it, dragging your case.  So does your neighbour opposite.  

5. You wake up on Saturday with a sinking feeling because you think it's Friday, and then realise, and then can't get back to sleep because of the joy.

6. You pick up the phone at home and say, 'Smithson & Co.  How can I help you?'




7. You pick up the phone at work and say, 'Hiyaaaaaaaaa!'

8. You bite into something very hard, such as pork crackling or nut brittle, and for a few seconds, you fear you are trying to eat a bit of your own tooth.

9. You wake in the night and hear high-pitched wailing from outside.  You can't get to sleep because of the 'Is it a cat? Is it a baby? Is it a cat? Is it a baby? Is it a cat? Is it a baby?' thought-pattern.  When you realise it's a baby, you can't get to sleep because of the 'How can a baby sound so like a cat?' thought-pattern.  When you realise it's a cat, you can't get to sleep because of the 'How can a cat sound so like a baby?' thought-pattern.  Then you go back to sleep and two minutes later the alarm rings.

10. Finally, my own definition of A Moment of Real Fear.  You press 'Forward' at exactly the same time as you realise you're not sure who you had written in the address box. 
  

Sunday, 14 September 2014

Evidence that Fran finds the strangest things amusing

These are things which have made me laugh today. It really, as you'll see, does not take much.

1. I noticed a banner advertising a Weight Watchers meeting at a church called St Mary Immaculate.  

2. Someone had discarded a lottery ticket on the pavement, presumably in a fit of pique.  It was labelled, in red letters, 'Lucky Lucky Draw'.  Not that lucky, then.

3. We went on a half-hour barge trip up the Grand Union Canal in Warwick as part of a 'Canal Open Day' event.  A large Texan man with a drawl to die for did the commentary on the history of my local canal.  

4.  I saw these at the Open Day and still don't know why they were there.  Everything else was to do with boats.  Was it because 'goats' rhymes with 'boats'?  


 5. On the bus home, I played 'I've seen you and I know you've seen me and I know you're pretending not to have done' with one of the teenagers from my school.  This happens often.  There's something about being fourteen that means even though you get on well with a teacher, you can't admit to recognising her when she dares to be out of doors at the weekend, living a normal life.  Then, on Monday morning, you yell along the school corridor, 'Hey, MISS!  I saw you on the BUS yesterday!'