It’s half term MoFos!
So far I have cleaned the toilet, ironed a pile of clothes the size of a small mountain, taken the cat to the vets and currently have oven shelves soaking in Oven Pride in the shed. Have even managed next term’s planning, including creating 3 French assessments.
I am actually going out later to drink ciders with a workmate and am even leaving the county to venture south of the border at the end of the week. Have Oyster Card – will travel (and probably get lost on the underground like a spaz).
I’d call it a school reunion but that implies a large venue; name badges; elderly surviving teaching staff and a bunch of virtual strangers standing around eating vol-au-vents and commiserating about the fallen. There is one of those going on in a couple of weeks, but we puffed that off when it all got a bit hectic over Facebook with the olds. I lost interest when someone posted the entire list of possibilities of the 3-tiered pricing structure for the buffet- none of which included tequila shots.
Instead I am meeting up with a select few at a hotel with a pool and spa (and a Friday night cabaret hosted by a drag queen, which I will be avoiding like the plague). Am also meeting for lunch at an old watering hole I last frequented during the 1990 World Cup, when I still smoked and owned a pair of dungarees! Am gutted though that old pal from America now cannot make it (possibly because she thought I might be smoking and wearing dungarees!). Maybe next time you do visit the UK Marcia, we can hook up then.
As usual I have failed in my weak-willed attempt to shift any timber in order to make a grand entrance as a creature of glorious ageless beauty.
Nope. Just me then. 30 years older and 30cm wider. Just as northern and probably even gobbier. Bring it on muddafackers.