Being Me

This is another of those posts where I have absolutely no idea what I'm about to write.  I just know I ought to write one, and that's all the information I have.   So, fingers to keyboard and here we go on an adventure together..... Ironies.   I love ironies.  Here are a few that I have noticed lately. 1. I rented a film 2 weeks ago which stars Will Smith and is called 'The Pursuit of Happyness'.  The pursuit lasted a lot longer than I'd intended because the DVD broke half-way through and I had to wait two weeks for a replacement.  (By the way, there's a reason for the spelling of 'happyness'.  It's not just because I'm on my summer holidays from being an English teacher.) 2. I moved to the Midlands from London 4 years ago, partly because of the hot, humid summers we were having.  I'm not good in heat (as the cow said to the abattoir worker).  But it had been raining and cool for weeks, so I decided it was safe to take a week-long holid

Anonymous is a busy person.  As well as writing all those poems which bear his name, he has time to post kind messages on people's blogs.  He's posted two on mine yesterday. 1.  This site was... how do I say it? Relevant! ! Finally I have found something which helped me. Cheers! Feel free to surf my site  :  zetaclear reviews   My comment on his comment :  Anon, what worries me here is that you had to THINK about how to define my blog.  And then all you could come up with, after wondering how you could say it, was that it was 'relevant'.  So your cheery positivity after that is, I'm afraid, not convincing, and far from feeling 'free' to surf your site, I feel duty bound not to. 2.  Wοnԁerful article! That is the kind of info thаt are  meant to be shareԁ аcгоss thе net. Shame on the seek engines for nοt positionіng this  ѕubmit hіgher! Ϲomе on ovеr аnd seeκ advice from  my website . Thаnk you =) Feel free to surf my web page  ::  Roxy Bedd

I'd hate you to have run out of my shortened fairy tales for those evenings when you are reading to your children/grandchildren/child you are meant to be responsibly babysitting. The Three Bears and the Brief Appearance of Goldilocks The three bears lived in a cottage in the woods.  One morning, they were all eating breakfast as usual, unaware that a blonde girl was peering in at them from outside their window.  (Only the omniscient narrator was aware of this fact.)             A tense argument was raging because Mother Bear never seemed to get the porridge right.  Father Bear complained that his was too cold, and Baby Bear cried because his was too hot.  Mother Bear was getting flustered.  Hers seemed fine.  Men were SO fussy.               The phone rang.  Mother Bear went to answer it.  ‘That’ll be Auntie Freda,’ she said, leaving the kitchen.               Father Bear said to Baby Bear, ‘We’ve lost your mother now.  She’ll be hours, I bet.’  (Auntie Freda was go

I'm intrigued.  Someone who's bought my book on Amazon Kindle (is it one of you, dear friends?) has 'also viewed' a book called 'Panic Button - A Psychological Thriller'. I imagine, whoever you are, that you think my book about a teacher's day in a boys' independent school is going to be a cheery, light-hearted journey through the modern classroom, and that the other book would be a tense, thrilling, nail-biting, scary and stomach-turning read. Just wait until you get to my chapters about the vomiting boy, the boy who had a bogey the size of a cabbage on the end of his finger, and the Wine Gum stuck to the teacher's shoe during invigilation. In fact, I should probably have subtitled the book 'Being Miss - A Day in the Life of a Teacher who Could Have Done With a Panic Button'. Rupert was finding the book terrifying.  Finding that he was actually IN the book was even more so.  

Another Fairy Tale adapted for parents and grandparents who would rather watch TV than read lengthy bedtime stories ... A beautiful girl called Cinderella lived with two ugly sisters who treated her like a slave.  One morning, an invitation came from the Prince to a lavish ball.  Both of the ugly sisters were very excited, and had already booked Botox appointments, but Cinderella, who was not allowed to go, despite being naturally smooth of forehead, was sad.              As the sisters set off, fluttering their fans, Cinderella cried.              She sat alone in the kitchen.  Suddenly, there was a ping and Cinders glanced towards the microwave, but it was actually a Fairy Godmother who had appeared in the corner of the kitchen.  (Cat flap?)   Unlike most Fairy Godmothers, this one was not smiling or happy.  Unlike most, she also sounded worryingly like a piece of kitchen equipment.               ‘What’s the matter?’ said Cinderella, kindly.              ‘It’s no good,’ s

Here is Elijah, minus all the tubes etc.  And we've had our first cuddles.  And I told him my best jokes. Grandma, if it's at all possible, could we just stick to normal Grandma/grandchild conversation and cut out the wisecracks? I swear, if you tell that one again about the wide-mouthed frog, I shall pee in your eye next time you get to change my nappy

Oh, Elijah Who would hide ya? My, oh my, here's the cute Elijah. Here he is, recovering from a traumatic birth, and all wrapped up.  But he's improving fast, and tomorrow I'm going to see him!  

I'm a Grandma to Elijah Matthew Hill! He took his time, and it was a difficult birth for his poor mum, so he is spending the night in Intensive Care to sort out his breathing.  But he's here. It won't be long before I can entertain little Elijah with my special brand of bedtime story.  Whoop whoop!  Won't he just LOVE them?

Well, here I am, knowing that my son's wife is in labour, and waiting for a phone call to say, 'You are officially a Granny!  Get in that rocking chair NOW!' So, while I wait, I thought I would post another of the shortened fairy tales I will be using with my grandchild if I'm babysitting but really wanting to watch telly and eat Cadbury's Milk Tray. And, anyway, someone requested this one .... The Three Little Pigs Three little pigs lived with their mother.  One day, the pigs decided they would seek their fortunes, so off they went, knapsacks over their shoulders.  On the way, they spotted a wolf who seemed to be eyeing them speculatively. ‘We’d better build ourselves houses to live in,’ said one pig, ‘otherwise that wolf might get us.’  The others agreed this was a good plan. They decided to build the first house out of twigs.  ‘Who’s going to live in this twig house, then?’ asked the eldest pig.  ‘Because I certainly don’t want to.’ Both of th

Domestic conversation. Youngest Daughter (washing up in kitchen and listening to strains of the The Archers tune dying out):  Nothing HAPPENED in that episode.  Nothing HAPPENED, the WHOLE episode. Me:  Yes, it did.  There was definitely a minor plot progression. Though I forget what it was. Father:  The farmer found out that he didn't have a tractor driver for the harvest. Me:  Ah yes, that was it. (Disgusted silence from kitchen, then ...) YD:  Well, that's not exactly SOAP-worthy, is it? 'Okay, so I'm not Clooney, but I'm still a STAR, right?' No, I am not a grandparent yet.  Although I have just had a text from The Son saying, 'She's having some interesting pains.  Will let you know if any developments.'  She's a couple of days late now, so something has to happen soon.  It's all very exciting. Therefore, essentially, our lives are more interesting than a daily radio soap opera which has been broadcasting since br