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Keeping my own company & not needing a black dog for company thanks

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So what’s been occurring? 

I’ve been feeling a bit like a dinosaur this week and a sad solitary one at that. There’s a lot going on in the world that I don’t understand and at this stage, can’t be bothered to learn about.

Why do people talk on their mobiles so loud? and so constantly? Not everyone in the street wants to know your business. Be quiet y’all!
Why is my life ruled by sodding passwords and memorable words?  Don’t have the same password for everything they say? Yet I’m meant to remember 50 different passwords when I can’t remember what day it is most of the time?  Couldn’t read a bloody email yesterday because I had to log in with a username, password and memorable word just to read a flipping text from Scottish Widows.  FFS!

My kids tolerate my ‘mumness’ with love, but often make me feel like a clueless fuck-up because I don’t understand what they’re saying half the time. My husband tolerates my ‘wifeness’ most days, but also sometimes makes me feel like a clueless fuck-up. (Or maybe that’s just me listening to the inner demons).

I’ve realised that the only human beings I have actual face to face conversations with regularly are my children and my husband. Not that there’s anything wrong in that of course.
I do have the occasional conversation with swim parents but mostly the sum total of my weekly conversations are more like instructions, along the lines of;
“Kick” “Blow bubbles through your nose” “push and glide”  “front crawl, let’s go!” – that sort of thing.  Also not complaining about that, because it sure as hell beats the old me of the permanently strained voice and grumpy face and getting cross at unruly children.


My old teacher face

So, no, I am not missing the school teaching.  Had a nightmare about being back in school the other day. The children were wild and one kept punching me in the nose.  Senior leaders were telling me “It’s fine, just ignore it, there’s no point telling him off” while I was going apoplectic with rage at the injustice of it all.  I woke up in a sweat.


I had a niggling feeling earlier on this week whilst in the midst of sorting swim certificates, medals and timetables (if people could stop changing their mind about bookings or timeslots – that’d be great!) that I was forgetting something important.  I realised that due to the date being so close to the end of term, I was thinking I should be practising leavers assemblies, planning French story assemblies – ‘Le Chennile qui fait de trous’, ‘Les oeufs vert au jambon’ etc. Buying bottles of wine and other miscellaneous thank you gifts and all that sort of thing. But nope, not for me that stress this year.  Just my certificates to award and swim school insurance to renew next month. **and breathe**


One bonus of abandoning ship and going solo is leaving behind the stresses of having to deal with children who perhaps, shall we say, might have benefited from a little more discipline.  A downside is that I have no work friends. Just me, myself and I.
Unfortunately most of my work friends while I worked in school turned out to be my only  local friends (for local people).  This is what happen when you live and breathe school.  Out of sight out of mind though and not for the first time, I realised this week that I’m not as likeable as I thought.  Always considered myself a bit of an irritating cunt and it turns out I was right. (Possibly because I use words like ‘cunt’)


Definitely feeling rather surplus to anybody’s requirements this week. Perhaps that could be my epitaph? “Here lies Kit. She was good…But annoying”.

These thoughts brought on by the kind of petulant teenage behaviour I’m always talking to my eldest about – I got the huff for about 2 seconds when I saw pics on FB of some pals all gussied up for a night out. I let it slide, thinking, fair play to them, enjoy! Until the next day when I realised that even more of them had met up and gone out than I first thought. I was now looking like Malificent,  left out of Aurora’s christening.




So then I felt somewhat ostracised from the group and I tried to brush it off because I’m a 47 years old and not a 15 year old girl, but I won’t lie, it still stung.  Particularly as this wasn’t the first time this had happened.  Felt marginally better when I found out that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t have the requisite requirements to warrant an invite Still a bit miffed TBH.


Meanwhile, I had a CT scan* this week too. That was fun. If your idea of fun consists of wearing hospital gowns, getting dye fed into your veins through a cannula which leaves a bad taste in your mouth and makes you feel as though you’re weeing, all whilst lying inside a noisy Stargate type machine while a bunch of nurses loom over you, asking if you could manage to keep your heart rate down a bit please.

*routine test booked by GP family dudes.  Don’t start planning my wake just yet (nobody would turn up anyway I expect)


Just checking if anyone likes you – it’s a negatory I’m afraid 

I’m oot!

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Regrets. I’ve had a few, But now we’ve reached the final curtain. 

The laptop has been handed in.  The unattractive staff pass also gone. 


My house is full of flowers and cards, the shed full of booze and cupboards not quite as full of chocolate as they were before the childerbeast got their mitts on them.

I am still not sure how I feel. 

I didn’t actually cry but I did almost go a couple of times.  Particularly at this.  I had to pretend to be sorting out my bag for about 5 minutes until I composed myself. I especially like the drawing of me.



The 6 of us who are leaving (5 by choice, 1 pretty much pushed out) weren’t going to get a mass send-off because seemingly there was no point getting 190 children into the hall just to say goodbye to some people.

Riiiight. okaaaay.   Think we know where we stand there.

Show you don’t give a shit care and all that.  More like Be Yourself Always (even if you’ve got no people skills).


Some people do care and they cared enough to kick up a bit of a stink about that so we did actually get our big send off. Ten years and my eulogy was pretty much thus… So Miss is leaving and she’s going to continue teaching but to swim, instead.  Hip hip hurray. Off you pop.

I’m not sure if the original lack of organised farewell assembly was out of fear of any of us leavers going postal or having a vent during a leaving speech – in fairness, it could have happened.  I thought I was good though. I didn’t swear. I slipped the Co-Op values in there and a bit of Jim Jones final speech and a bit of Marshall Applewhite (whilst wearing my Heaven’s Gate Away Team top).  Lots of kids seemed genuinely sad to see me go (until they forget all about me come September) and I know some of the staff will miss me greatly.

I accidentally cut my own forehead with my thumbnail when catching a ball today and left a lovely bloody mark.  A child asked what happened, I said I’d stabbed myself in the face rather than return to work in September.  She just said “Oh ok”


But it’s time to move on. Even if it ends up being a bit tight cashwise.  I can’t work in that environment anymore, no matter how much fun it (sometimes) is.  I’m doing what matters most – and that’s not being there, because otherwise I’ll lose the plot again and it’ll be jigsaw time in my PJs once more and popping BetaBlockers like TicTacs..

I wish the children every success and I hope my replacement does a grand job.  She doesn’t speak much French but hey, teachers can teach French aswell you know?  I know.  But they often don’t do it well love.  Scheme or no scheme. And in fact a lot of the stuff I taught wasn’t from the scheme – same with topic, science and music – because I’m an independent thinker who, despite scatty appearances, is actually bright enough to not have to rely on a scheme.  Not that anyone will now have access to any of my ten years worth of lesson plans and resources after I deleted them all from the network.

Yes. I don’t just bite my thumb, I bite it at you.

it’s this kind of shit I’ll miss – pretty much everything else can get knotted. 



So roll on the next six weeks.  Meeting friends, seaside trips, festivals, ghosthunts, swim training and more festivals and trying not to fall out with the Famalam.




Fiery nights and almost the last goodbye

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Had some pals round on Saturday night as a bit of a slightly early end of term send off.

Quality moments included inappropriate remarks about burning the gays or some Jews on the chiminea; playing Jessie’s Diets in the shed doorway and my friend and neighbour crashing through the gate like the Honey Monster shouting “I’m arseholed! Let me in!” 

images (3)

Playing Peters & Lee Vs Stevie Wonder swingball in the dark. Terrifying one of the young TAs with Cards Against Humanity and getting a lapdance when you least expect it.



I learned not to trust certain people with fire guard duty or you’ll come back from the bathroom to find Dante’s Inferno beneath the gazebo and also that crisps are barred from the next soiree.

I woke up bolt upright on the settee when Bman came home from his night out. I’d fallen asleep seemingly midway through attempting to tidy up.  He helpfully put a Halloween jelly mould on my head and took photos for prosperity.



Good times!

Now tomorrow is my last day at school and I don’t know how I feel about it, other than utterly knackered after being awake from 3:30am this morning until 6am when I managed to grab an hours kip.  Worrying about cash flow from September.


Zombie times.

Been a lot of ‘lasts’ this week.  Last time teaching this class or that class. Last time doing Y6 register. Last Monday. Last Tuesday. Last PPA.  Tomorrow will be the last of it all and I think I might actually blub in front of everyone despite actually being relieved about leaving.  Let’s see how it goes…



Fuck dry January. All hail Ginuary

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Well dry January lasted until Wednesday the 3rd when I went back to work.  I held off at least until I got home but was two gins in by 9pm.


A short week indeed, but am already knackered and considering alternative career prospects.
I’m stuck though aren’t I?  I’ll end up like some kind of disillusioned, wizened, bitter old Yoda figure stamping library books in a corner and listening to KS1 reading about fucking Biff & Chip for the eleventy billionth time.. The children will remind me that I used to teach their parents and dad wants to know if I’m still a bitch.

I doubt by then I’ll have the energy…



chin chin for gin Xx

Another nail in the coffin of decent society

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Despite a Saturday where I floated aimlessly like a tumbleweed in the retail wasteland of Bradford city centre.  Pondering mournfully about how I had managed to (a) end up here at all (b) still be here & procreated in the process (c) done absolutely nothing useful with my life thus far (d) scared off every man I have ever had a relationship with by my general demeanour, propensity for melancholy & mannish features (f) emotionally scarred my own brother so much that he refuses to introduce his new girlfriend to me because (and I quote) “It’s too embarrassing”  – I did, as it goes, not have too bad a weekend.


I thought I was having some kind of aneurism on Saturday night when my head felt as though 1000 elastic bands were being wrapped around my brain from the inside of my skull.

Turns out I just needed a good nights sleep.  (Either that or the end is imminent and the aneurism is so far along now that I can’t feel a thing). 


Don’t think I offended or upset anyone at work today, which is always a bonus.
I then got home to the excitement of seeing that my new toy had arrived.  A beginners ukulele no less. Oh yes!

simple starter model

simple starter model


Joy turned to cries of “WTF?”  and “Holy shit why does everything I touch turn to crap?” when I removed it reverently from the box to find this…


a smidge too simple for my taste

a smidge too simple for my taste

You are not telling me that this instrument wasn’t already damaged before it got wrapped in bubble wrap and boxed up.  I’ve lost faith a little with the Post Office lately but really?  I think the blame with this lies in the hands of the supplier.

#FFS!  A replacement is on it’s way apparently.  Can’t wait to see what that looks like!

My iron decided to turn itself into a smoking gun on Sunday aswell while I was ironing Bman’s work shirt of course, which now has a beautiful brown collar.
So I’ve had to order another one.  After the last debacle barely a year ago when I bought a new iron, I dread to think how that will turn out.  Watch this space!

Customer Service is not what it used to be. If I was in UKIP I’d be blaming Gays or Asians for it but truth be told I think we are all to blame for being as crap as one another.

I’m telling you, standards began to slip with the ban on being able to tell kids off properly in school and when we stopped half day closing on Wednesdays.
Hats, stockings and ties that’s what we need to bring back – and for Christ’s sake stop going to the damn store in your PJs.

I’m going to have a gin and tonic now and raise a glass to that poor teacher who went to work after 40 years in the job and didn’t get home today.  A shocking Monday news story that touched me deeply because it’s local and not the kind of thing you expect in our line of work.  Another sign of the World we live in now and the one I am sometimes sorry I brought life into.  It’s come to something when teaching staff mentally (and in some places, literally) practice evacuation or lockdown drills for if some nutter decides to go Tonto. It’ll be Kevlar vests next.



Chunderbirds are go!

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Movie quote of the day:  “Holy shit where’s the Tylenol?” — National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation

Christmas play shizzles all done and dusted.  My childerbeast were, of course, fabulous!
Family gift exchange all done last week in Liverpool & Manc and still no sign of my newest niece.  To be fair she isn’t due until Saturday, which would be an awesome birthday gift if she arrived on time.

2 more ‘get ups’ to go before the end of term and nothing says Merry fecking Christmas like a sponging down children’s’ coats and cleaning out their shoes when another child has projectile vomited in the cloakroom!  Snap on the Marigolds and fire up the Anti-bac spray… I’m going in.

Today kids we will be calculating the surface area covered, of a spray of vomit travelling at approximately 70mph, through splayed fingers.

It was nothing if not extensive!


Meanwhile…. it is my 42nd birthday on Saturday and I am revisiting the site of my 20th birthday celebrations – Scarborough Spa.
I very much doubt I would fit into the same clothes, even if I still had them (which I don’t).  I do hoard my wardrobe items, it’s true,.. but not for that long!

Haven’t had a drink since October half-term.  I’ll probably pass out after 2 vodka and oranges and have to be taken home by 11pm!



Have a cheeky Christmas