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Famalam times in the sun

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A most pleasant weekend to be had this Bastille Day/France winning the World Cup weekend.

Vive la France.

Watched the best performance of Romeo and Juliet I’ve ever seen at an amazing ‘pop up’ theatre.  Just fabulous.  Well done Rose Theatre York!

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No “I bite my thumb” Tee shirts. But they did have ones that said “Puck You!”

Such a hot day in York that I was forced to buy a floppy Stepford Wives hat. I may wear it to work every day for my last 8 days.  We also accidentally sort of joined an anti-Trump protest rally, which was nice…we were only trying to cross the street to find Primark.


I’m a very lucky girl… I’m a very lucky girl

Today it was the annual Anson family summer shizzle at my folks’.  Bman won the star prize on the bingo of a bottle of lemon drizzle Sipsmith’s gin. I won a terrifying jiggly ball thing that bounces about and giggles.  I thought the cats might like it…  They don’t!

I was second to last in the sack race because I was given a child-size sack due to being a dwarf these days. I beat my brother and Bman in the inflatable pugilist sticks contest but lost in the final against my eldest Childerbeast.  I gained Brownie points from my neicelings for getting way too involved in the paddling pool Total Wipeout shenanegins – to the point of having to come home in a pair of my mum’s shiny pyjamas with my piss-wet-through clothes in a Tesco bag!



Good family times!  And that’s what matters most.


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Pappy & Ashley’s turn







The final countdown

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Quite a week this week.  I’ve sworn an awful lot, both at work (not in front of the children) and at home (in front of and at the children).  I also cried on Wednesday night when we lost to Croatia. I may also have a had the first hangover in ages the next day at work (not a great idea when you’ve got Y6 all day in the smallest room in the school).


Hopefully, a more genteel harmony will be restored this afternoon when we go to see Romeo and Juliet at the specially built Rose Theatre in York.  Watching Shakespeare as it was meant to be seen – looking forward to it.  I wonder if there’s a gift concession selling Tees with the words,  “I bite my thumb at you”? If so, I might get one and wear it on last day at work. A mere 8 days away!  

Am having mixed emotional feelings about all that.  Stood in B&M last Saturday looking at something or other and thinking “Hmm that’ll do for such and such a lesson” Then dawning on me that I won’t need it.  Never going to teach that lesson again (unless swim classes go tits up and I have to return to a school setting). I almost did a little cry in the aisle.
       Had a sort out of cupboards and drawers yesterday at work and again, almost did a little cry when I threw out a label that said “Mrs Brewer’s Resources”.

The times are indeed achanging. And if nobody else signs up for September term, they’ll be changing in the style of me not having enough money to pay bills. 


On the positive side, I am thoroughly enjoying teaching these children to swim. What a lovely bunch they all are, and coming along very nicely too, if I do say so myself.

Saw an ex-student on my way home on Thursday at the parade of shops down the road. Had a chat with her while keeping half an eye on the situation going on around us.  Was like Crenshaw Boulevard down there! Various shifty looking exchanges going on from vehicle to vehicle. The testosterone in the air was palpable and the choice of leisure wear questionable. If one of the cars had started bouncing like a LoLo from a Dr. Dre video, I wouldn’t have been surprised.  Funnily enough, I walked the same route at the same time the next night and not a soul was to be seen on the entire street.  Must have been giro day on Thursday or something.

Had a Phoenix Night moment at work yesterday, doing some art with Y6 using spray paints.  Don’t judge me. I’m not teaching them to go spray “So and So is a Slag” on bus shelters or anything.  It’s about the history of graffiti and origins of hip-hop etc.  Anyway, I’m outside showing a student how to spray over a stencil of their “tag”. (Yes, they had goggles and gloves on).  Job done and I start to carry the stenciled piece back inside to dry.  Reception children are all at the fence waving at me.  A gust of wind caught the underside of the card and blew it up straight into my face!  Y6 child doesn’t know whether to laugh or run away in fear of my reaction. I just stand there saying “How much of it is on me?”  Reception are all like “Ohhh Miss Brewer, you got paint on you”.

Spent next 10 minutes scrubbing at the left side of my face with hand soap to remove the word “shadow” now emblazoned in black down my face like a Maori tattoo.


And it’s stuff like that I’m going to miss immensely. 

But it’s time to move on and just hope for the best that this financial gamble pays off eventually.

Wish me luck.  

Go like my FB page (necessity dictates that I have to be back on the infernal thing to advertise – but to be fair it does seem to work).

Right, I best go shake my Childerbeast awake and get ready for the Bard.

Ciao Ciao Xx



That time we broke into an abandoned ski village & later met Max Tweenie

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…I say broke in… I mean, we stumbled across the exact location of the abandoned ski village in Sheffield then walked right in because the giant gates aren’t actually attached to anything stronger than a bush.

We waited a few minutes nervously in the car while a man from the neighbouring traveller camp finished his scavenger hunt. Assessing that he didn’t appear to be armed or likely to attack us, we locked up the car after ensuring it was facing the right way for ease of escape in a hurry, and in we went.

I believe the term is Urban Exploring (AKA raking about in abandoned places).

This wasn’t even where we were meant to be going, but given that it was a mere 11 minutes (according to the SatNaff) from our actual destination of Endcliffe Hall, it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.

This was our actual venue for the evening:  Judging by the sign – I think they knew we were coming.


Now occupied by the military for counter-terrorism purposes apparently. Although allowing a collection of unknowns to rake about within, armed with gadgets and tech, unsupervised, seems like the absolute opposite of national security.  But hey, what do I know?


Krystal Carrington was a former resident apparently



I say chaps, check out the bristols on this Love Island contestant!


The architect was a big fan of ‘Bod’

I wasn’t feeling much other than warmth – it was a very hot evening.  Several other guests seemed to be picking up butlers, children and menacing drunken men, but all we heard was Seth Brundlefly again.  A big bluebottle buzzing about in the ceiling.  Imagine our joy when someone then got the name ‘Seth’ through on the ouija board. Our insect friend from Thorne was back!


Seemingly Seth was the secret sex toy of the master of the house. There was a lot of it about…


We got some decent K2 action on the table in the room with the big conference table – and sadly that’s not euphemism for anything sexual.  But it’s the best I’ve seen my device flash though – and the team running the night put their K2 next to mine and theirs went off too when we called out, so that was kind of fun. 

We also both felt a cold pressure between us at the table, like a smallish invisible person was stood between us – probably looking at the K2s and saying “WTF is that?”

Sadly I won’t be getting much more K2 action anywhere until it gets returned.  It would seem that someone mistook my K2 for theirs at the end of the night. Although I’m sure that when they see my initials written on the back, they will realise their error and get it back to me. Otherwise, messing about with the other side will be the least of their worries.

At one point we were all crammed into a toilet block. Presumably waiting for Moaning Myrtle to fly out of the urinal. 


Seemingly that area used to be the Mistress of the House’s quarters where she was kept locked in by her controlling husband.  Some people in there did a bit of glasswork and seemed to be getting something.  I just got a headache but luckily someone with healing hands leaped into action, quite unsolicited, and cured me like Jon Coffey from The Green Mile.

I felt like I needed some cooler air after my aura had been invaded without permission and my olfactory senses overcome, so we headed out.  On the way, I tried a door with no handle and while my friend thought she heard a growl from behind the door, I thought the door had pushed back.“What the fuck was that?” we whispered and off we scuttled in excitement to try and find out what had made the noise.  In the style of Elton John, we came across a back passage and accidentally found a secret door with an interesting staircase (as opposed to an uninteresting one).


It was dark up there. And full of old crap like typewriters and such. It looked unsafe and the stairs were uncomfortably steep. I wasn’t keen, so didn’t hang about to see if there were further stairs to the roof turret area.  I feared for my safety in case anything made me jump (like a spider or a mouse) and made me fall down the steps.

Many rooms and staircases later we just had time to investigate the cellars – because why wouldn’t you? But other than an electric meter switch clicking (like it’s meant to) and making us all shit ourselves for a millisecond, nothing ran at us, knocked us over or so much as blew in our faces.  A man who had put me in mind of Max from the Tweenies very early doors in proceedings (and then I couldn’t shake the image) seemed to be annoying everyone even more than me and my mate usually do. Always useful to have someone about who pisses folk off more than you do – it makes you look better!


(Tweenies, Max – Am not sure that having a puppet dressed as Jimmy Savile introducing the song ‘One finger One thumb, keep moving’ on a kids’ show is the best way forward for promotion in the TV industry).

So another great night, despite the lost K2 and the fact that my EVP recorder only saved one of my several recordings. #techfail

I only hope they keep letting us join them because we like this group.

Our next adventure isn’t until August when we return to East Drive (postponed from March when we had all the snow). In the meantime we still want to go to Newsham Park near Liverpool and possibly have a rake about at the old Camelot abandoned theme park on the way.

“Honestly officer, the gate was opened and we didn’t see the Keep Out Signs”.

Stay safe kids. Xx


Strange things are afoot at the Circle K

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Oh my days, I’ve not blogged in ages.  Mostly because it’s been too hot. Yeah you heard me. I said the words British people are not allowed to say when the sun comes out.

Don’t get me wrong. I love the heat. I’m very much enjoying being greased up with sun lotion day after day and sitting in a teeny toddler paddling pool like a hippo in a teaspoon to cool my regions.

Hosepipes bans, stocking up on Kronenburg for the World Cup, children wowling about being too warm and too tired. Constantly astounded at children coming to school without sun lotion on, or any in their bag nor a hat or sunglasses, then wondering why they look like beetroots by the end of lunchtime.

Yes. it’s motherfucking summer y’all.  Enjoy it. Stop moaning. and in the words of Peter Kay, “Have a Solero and shut the fuck up!”


In other news: I’ve only gone and sodding resigned from school!  “Holy shit, where’s the Tylenol?” Yup this shit is really happening!  Got offered the chance to take on all the children’s classes and run them as my own, so decided to bite the bullet and give it a go.


10 years I’ve been there! But now is the time to move on.  I asked for part-time and eventually got that agreed but the hours just didn’t fit in with swimming aswell. So a big decision had to be made.  I admit I felt about 10 years younger as soon as I handed that letter in.


Me on the last day of term

Exciting but a bit scary.  I’ll be self-employed. Have to sort my own tax and stamp etc. Budget a lot better and get some more bums in my pool so I can get some dollars in. Otherwise if not enough parents renew in September, my kids won’t be going to Boomtown, Shambala or in fact very far at all next year because we’ll be skint and hungry.  Don’t think I could have managed another academic year at school though without losing my shit and going postal TBH.


Check me out on or on Twitter at @koolkidsswimsc1 Tell your friends, spread the word.

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Koolkids Swim School







Where the cats miaow

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Today could possibly mark the dawn of a new era for me workwise. Don’t want to go into too much detail in case I jinx it. But big changes could be afoot.

Meanwhile, the words every woman longs to hear at work today in the staffroom:

“Hey I’m sure I saw Mr B clambering out of a skip this lunchtime”

…and knowing in your heart of hearts that it was a fact.

So if my work goes tits up and his work goes south due to the continuing chaos on the railway, at least I know he can provide for us by becoming a professional bin raker.


It’s midsummer’s day tomorrow so I will mostly be teaching the children about Stonehenge, The Green Man and getting them to learn the words to Stonehenge by Spinal Tap (only two of those things are true BTW).  Where the cats Miaow.   And remember kids, it’s not your job to be as confused as Nigel.



Blessed be and happy solstice to you all.


Sitting in the dark, quoting films & that

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Up the street at the weekend there was an inflatable sinking Titanic at a kids’ party! Not sure how I feel about this. Although in fairness I didn’t realise what it was until my daughter and my friend pointed it out – and I’d walked past it twice! D’oh!


In a hundred years time will we see inflatable World Trade Centre bouncy castles?  Grenfell Tower garden chimineas?  A national tragedy reduced to a children’s party entertainment piece.



stock photo courtesy of google images


Spent Saturday night investigating (or as it’s known in more serious circles, e-vestigating) a former Victorian workhouse.  Signs of the everafter were a bit scant TBH. Other than a male voice in my ear saying “Hello” just as we arrived (& no, nobody was behind me).  Not much else of a paranormal nature occurred other than a few lights getting brighter (battery glitch?)

I think we are becoming rather immune to these things now. I used to watch ghosthunting shows and think, “as if you’d go in there alone in the dark?” yet on Saturday there I was, in the attic area of a former Victorian Workhouse. On my own. With a tiny pocket torch. In the pitch dark.  Like Aaron Goodwin of Ghost Adventures. “Duuuuuude!”  And I wasn’t in the least bit perturbed.

I thought at one point that there was a response when I called out, but I soon debunked the odd noises I kept hearing as some kind of insect somewhere near the windowsill.  I went to rescue my friend who was trapped in a human pendulum downstairs, pretending to be Sam Weet from Ghost.  I told her there was a Brundlefly trapped upstairs somewhere and she had to come and listen. 

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“help me!”

There was a miniature model of the Cutty Sark on the windowsill. I had images of a tiny princess trapped within, like on Sinbad.  We couldn’t work out where this odd sound was coming from. It was like Charlie Brown’s teacher going “wah wah wah”” only very quietly and very far away. 

After further calling out and chuckling away at the odd response we were getting – and it did only happen when we called out – we decided it was definitely some kind of bug stuck somewhere which needed releasing.  We opened the window and leaned out. There we discovered a wasp stuck in a hole in the wall.  My friend managed to release it by poking at it with a cd cover she found.  Then whisper-shouted “He’s not alone in there is he?” as I cried out, “WASPS NEST! SHUT THE FUCKING WINDOW!” I envisaged us running away from a swarm of angry bees like Ray Peterson and Art Weingartner in The Burbs.


I am also fairly sure that we may be banned from further events run by this particular company after they listen back to their EVP device recordings and will, in all likelihood, hear us discussing whether or not my friend is a sexual predator then sniggering away like Mutley (again). Then quoting random bits of ‘Silence of the Lambs’.  To put some context on that – we had spotted a folding trolley against the wall and both had the same idea of each pretending to be Hannibal Lecter. 


Not sure that whoever plays back the EVP device will appreciate hearing us doing our best Anthony Hopkins and saying things like“Migs says he can smell your cunt. I myself, cannot”.



We may not have found evidence of the afterlife, but we did find masks and sailor hats and won a box of Roses in the raffle, which we stuffed ourselves with during in the break.  There was a Kinect camera to faff about with, white noise to rave along to and Nik Naks to rearrange to see if the spirit of someone like Annie Wilkes came and tried to hobble us…. So in my book that makes for a winning evening all round.


Just a typical Saturday

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So I overslept this morning and woke up to the sound of a chupacabra crawling about in the wall cavity above the front door.

It may have been a bird. Or a mouse, or a rat.  Either way, my daughter heard it too so I know it wasn’t me going nuts (again).  It’s gone quiet since so it’s either escaped, died, or is lying in wait to peck or claw its way out in the early hours and suck our blood.

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Meanwhile I’ve been into Sadford two days running and now feel like I need therapy. And by therapy, I mean beer.


You’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy than …. Bradford


The bus journey there on my Mum mission to exchange the too small short shorts was very much full of people like this.


Ashtray’s a girl’s name

I hoped I didn’t blend in.

I also prayed none of them were going to buy short shorts.

Primarda was like a scene from Dante’s Inferno. Clammy, hot, swarming with lost souls, eyes aglaze as they bustled through the racks of tat on their individual quests for sweatshop made, hotwash intolerant garments of ill-advised fashion.


Abandon hope all ye who enter here (especially on a Saturday)

I then went to the pool to observe some lessons to gain some teaching tips. This would have been a very helpful exercise had I gone on the right day.  It was meant to be next weekend FFS!  What a dingus. My mentor wasn’t even there – she’s in London.


So then I set off for home and had to run for the bus. Not a pretty sight for anyone witness to such a thing. Even more so when it wasn’t even my bastarding bus. 


In my head I looked like this.


The reality was probably closer to this.


Particularly whilst wearing an oversized men’s ‘Wyld Stallyns’ * vest with one boob peeping out of the sleeve. (I was at least wearing a bra).

So I’ll leave you with that image.,,

You’re welcome!



*Bill & Ted fans – next Saturday is ‘Speak like Bill & Ted Day’.  Sixty-Nine Dudes!