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Tag Archives: swimming

Scruffy and I know it.

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This week Boris Johnson surpassed himself by using the phrased “spaffed up the wall” when describing money spent by police investigating historical child abuse cases.  A day when an Australian man shot and killed almost 50 Muslims at prayer in his attempt to halt immigration in Europe (hello Irony?) and an Australian senator essentially blamed the Muslims for their own deaths by saying “The real cause of bloodshed on New Zealand streets today is the immigration program which allowed Muslim fanatics to migrate to New Zealand in the first place.” – Riiight? Okaaaay.  

Can I get a For Fucks Sake!

 

So Bman and I watched Ed Stafford’s documentary about the homeless in Britain – ’60 Days on the Streets’.   Bman took great delight in pointing out that it had only been on 10 minutes and he’d already seen 3 homeless people wearing the same coat as mine.  It’s a good job I don’t give a fuck isn’t it really?  I seem to surround myself with piss-taking cunts.  I think it’s safe to say that I can give as good as I get though, if not better.  Anyway I love my Shadwell jacket it‘s a great coat – clearly favoured by the dispossessed and streetwise of the nation for its warmth and practicality.  

It did occur to me yesterday though that since leaving the education profession, I rarely have the opportunity to make a sartorial effort.  My poor husband only ever sees me in PJ’s, naked, or in my walking to work ensemble of trackies/Koolkids tee, hoody, and the trusty Shadwell.  Of those three outfits, obviously, the naked one is the most attractive.  Would be nice to make an effort sometime though, so he could see me with tidy hair, some make-up and a something slightly more feminine – a dress & heels maybe.
He did take me out for lunch on Thursday – at Morrisons cafe because he knows how to treat a lady – but it was before work so, no make-up, barnet all over the place, slackydaks and work tee shirt as standard!

Maybe I should get him to take me out somewhere (but not to a dodgy German techno sex party in a derelict building*).

🙂

*see these previous blog posts Bman’s dodgy night out

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There is some remaining glamour under there somewhere

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Workwear these days

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Techno fails and minty tits

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So the supercalifucktallulahwhatsthedifference fibreoptic gizmo is installed. Hurrah!  

However, despite the promise of a simple plug it in and away you go, which did actually turn out to be surprisingly painless. Not so much with the resetting up of various passwords around the house.  Wifi printer – interestingly, the only bit of tech that still worked while the Internet was out – almost went out of the sodding window yesterday.

 

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Fuck it! I’ll hand write my invoices you bastard!

Eventually got that sorted out. Then decided to watch something on BBC iplayer.  Needed to log in and change some password on that – every time I tried, the flippin’ TV turned itself off.  I bombed that task off and thought “fuck it!” Let Bman do it tomorrow on his day off.

Next up, I’ll put something on Netflix.  Nope!  ‘Chromecast cannot find your network do you want to search for a new one?’  Yes, I do, thank you for asking.  Then sat watching the little buffer icon thingy spinning around and around on my phone saying “connecting to chromecast”.  And around and around and around and around.  I was starting to become hypnotized.  I forced myself to look away before I started barking like a chihuahua or cycling down Stanningley Bypass on a child’s trike every time I heard the Intel Inside jingle or some such.

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You will no longer wish to watch Netflix…. Kill everyone!

I was in no mood. I had felt a cold coming on and couldn’t afford to be ill. The pitfalls of self-employment.  Had to get popped up on Beechams cold and flu capsules and crack on. These children won’t teach themselves to swim efficiently.

🙂

A successful evening with 4 new learners starting from next week, then home to bed and more cold remedies.  I thought that lathering myself in Vicks might ease my journey to the arms of Morpheus.  I hadn’t anticipated how sensitive my skin is after months of being in chlorinated water for 12 hours a week. Vicksed myself up front and back and within seconds knew I was not sleeping for a while unless I got up and showered the shit off!  The best description I can think of is that I was in some kind of Bushtucker Challenge from ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here’, and 11,0000 woodlice, ripped to the gills on Extra Strong Mints were having a rave on my tits!  It was not a pleasant sensation.  Given the fact that I hadn’t washed my hands after application I thought it prudent not to rub my eye (or have a wank).  Eventually, I got to sleep and feel decidedly less crap this morning, so perhaps the minty insect irritation therapy was worth the pain.

 

I’m going to leave you with that image of thousands of mint eating insects dancing on my chest and also this track which was stuck in my head like an earworm all last night as I tried to tune out the fire on my skin.. and the cute as a button (but could probably fuck you up in a heartbeat) Yolandi Visser  Ugly Boy – Die Antwoord

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Sandwich anyone? – Why yes, I do believe I would

2018 and out…

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Time for the annual round-up of the year in news stories, pictorial, musical, and meme-based form.

Clearly, the news story of the year (well the past two years TBH) is bloody Brexit. Well, fuck all that. Nobody knows what’s going to happen there and after this long, I’m not sure anybody cares anymore. Yet still, people are trying to get into this country in inflatable dinghies.  Why? I’m not entirely sure…

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Jack remind me again why we’re heading to Britain 

 

Meanwhile, for those of us convincing ourselves that we’re going on a health kick in the new year (yawn), let this lady be our inspiration… World’s strongest Vajayjay 

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Forgotten your bag for life at Lidl – no problem with the vag for life

World’s Strongest Vagina – and if that’s not a pitch for TV show for Channel 5 then I don’t know what is!  Women from around the world compete to lift and throw various items with their undersmiles.  If we’re not all lifting, nay, opening, jars of Marmite and cans of beans  with our twats by this time next year then I feel we haven’t put enough effort into it.  My aim is to lift, open and spread the Marmite onto my toasted soldiers and dip those bad boys into my boiled egg!  Pulling trucks with it. The lot!  Go big or go home y’all! 

(hands up who is clenching and unclenching right this moment – yeah you are, don’t deny it).

😀

 

Highlights of the year for me was probably seeing Die Antwoord at Boomtown Fair.  Right up there in my top lifetime moments. Enter the Ninja

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We’re gonna have a nice time kids

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I may have had some tequila at this stage

 

Shambala was, as ever, a brilliant 4 days too.  That time I jumped into a cloth vagina onto a pile of strangers shouting “Wassup Cunts!” Am already looking forward to next years Adventures in Utopia and I apologize in advance to my Childerbeast for being an ’embarrassing mum’ (but TBH I often relish it, just to annoy you).

😀

 

 

 

 

 

 

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never too old for a bit of roller disco with sis and the kids

 

Early in the year, I started a second job, teaching swimming. Then in July, I left my job of ten years to do it for my actual job and as my own business! No danger of becoming a millionaire anytime soon. I’m happy if I make enough to pay my bills with a bit left over each month if I’m honest.  Mentally though, much happier and a lot less grouchy, even if I am constantly damp and stinking of chlorine.

 

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This is me now

 

What will 2019 bring?

Who knows.


Got some gigs to go to. Visits booked with old mates. Hopefully, there’ll be more ghost investigations to do.  Family holiday booked for summer. It’s Rho’s GCSE year! My baby bird is so grown up. I’ve got that prom dress to ‘Molly Ringwald’ to the max so she can actually wear it in June!

Resolutions? Nah, balls to that. Am going to try and be a bit healthier, not as a New Year resolution but as basic common sense really.

Be nice, be kind, laugh more, sprinkle some fun into peoples lives; have a ‘pile on’ with sibs and friends; reconnect with people in real life instead of just ‘liking’ their posts on ArseBook.  Be silly, do something you’ve not done in ages or never done before (but not kiddie fiddling, robbing grannies or kicking dogs or anything).  Get a tattoo, learn to swim (I can help you with that), take up a hobby, wrestle in glitter, talk to a homeless person, quit your crappy job and get a new one.

😀

Choose Life people!

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This applies to a few – which makes me one lucky lady

 

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Duuuuuuuuuude! Pile onnnnnnnnnnnnn!

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Hey Lamo, you know I mean you here right?

 

Big fish in a small pond

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When you work in a pool but you feel like Daryl Hannah in Splash or one of those dolphins at Zoo & MarineLand in Scarborough in 1979 in an inadequately sized tank.


Could do with being out of my depth and spreading out a bit.  Might have to venture to Pudsey Baths in half term which has a 3m deep end (but I’d also quite like to steer clear of chlorine for a week).


Not that manic a Monday

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It’s a tough life not working Mondays anymore.  Sunday night I stayed up late watching episodes of ‘The Haunting of Hill House’ on Netflix, then slept on the sofa as I was too disturbed to go upstairs in the dark.  I stayed where I was with a blanket for protection against invading spectral entities, ensuring none of my body parts was exposed to the air.


This morning I have mostly been planning this weeks swim lessons, texting parents about swim hats and getting sucked into watching clips of Bob Mortimer’s tall tales and unbelievable truths on
‘Would I lie to You?’ after seeing a clip on Twitter about him breaking an egg into his bath after advice from Chris Rea (as you do).

With encouragement from Bman I then had a go at breaking an apple in half with my bare hands.  With my jar & bottle opening skills, I thought it might be a given.  However, sadly not. I only succeeded in breaking a chunk off and spraying mushed apple bits and juice all over the living room rug.  Perhaps I need more practice or a bigger apple.

🙂

I also perhaps need to think about working more hours or taking up an active hobby.  

My current project is trying to prove that our technology is listening to us.  So me and the Childerbeast are seeing how soon we start to see adverts pop up on Spotify, eBay or FB for anything to do with badminton if we keep mentioning the word in general conversation.

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I’ll let you know how that pans out.

🙂

Ciao Ciao Xx

 

Someone tell me what to do

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If anyone could sort me out with winning lotto numbers so I can stay home watching ‘Bondi Rescue’ and ‘There’s a ghost up my arse’ or whatever, while doing my step machine and occasionally ironing, then that’d be great.

🙂

I’ve been researching other potential career prospects.  So far this is my list:-

*Continue being a HLTA.
*More swim teaching (skin & hair getting buggered up).
*Retraining as a Retained Reflexes Therapist.
*Setting up own ghost hunting company (market pretty saturated right now though).
*Hiring self out as Humanist celebrant (clashes somewhat with supernatural beliefs.
and also costs a stupid amount of money to ‘train’ to write ceremonies).
*1:1 TA work for SEN pupils.
*Write bestselling novel & sell the movie rights – relocate to LA.
*Setting up mobile beer van with pal “Oldies with Coldies” & doing the festy circuit.

My list of credentials is a sorry state of oddities indeed:-

*8 GCSEs.
*2 A levels.
*Some Secretarial qualification I forget the name of that included a proficiency.
certificate in the art of ‘WordStar4’ (a long defunct word processing program).
*NVQs in Childcare Learning & Development and Support Teaching & Learning.
*Higher Level Teaching Assistant status.
*ASA Swimming National Curriculum Training Program Levels 1&2.
*STA Award in Swim Teaching.
*STA Pool Safety Award.
*Diploma in Parapsychology (I shit you not).
*Diploma in Demonology (fact. It’s true – bring it on Beelzebub).
*Am also an ordained Humanist Celebrant (god bless the Internet).

I must be able to do something different with that lot – surely Shirley? Or a mish-mash of it all – a bit like I am now, but with more structure & less hours.
The thought of being self-employed scares me though. What about holidays? Tax? Sick pay? But I don’t want to work for some big corporate gig either.  

Help.

I do need a change though. I need to do something exciting. Am starting to feel a little stagnant – like an old pond.

😀

Maybe I need to invent some kind of anti-snoring device (before I throttle Bman with the cord of my MP3 headphones, because seriously? I can still hear you man). 

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It’s ok to just be ok

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So.  I’ve had enough of trying to accommodate some people.  If people want to be my friend and be a good friend, then they know where I am. They know how to contact me.  I’m pretty much done with always being the one to make first contact.  People are busy I know. People have their own lives.  Sure. But it doesn’t take a moment to spare someone a thought and drop them a text, whatsapp or messenger or whatever.

With that in mind I know a couple of heads I need to reconnect with and I shall go old school and telephone them at the weekend.

Honest.

Meanwhile, I’ll go to school.  Teach my lessons as per my plans.  Change them as and when I need to.  I’ll mark, I’ll come home. I’ll go to bed. Sleep the sleep of the just – possibly unjustly. Or maybe I’ll lay awake pondering about life, the universe and everything. 

I’ll teach my swim classes on Thursdays and Fridays and hope nobody drowns and the parents don’t think I’m a complete fucktard.  If they rebook the classes then I’ll know I’m doing alright.  If they take their business elsewhere and I end up being asked to leave then I’ll know it’s not for me.

And that’s fine.  It’ll be what it’ll be.

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I’ll cook and clean and keep house and parent as best I can and that’s the way it will go week after week.

Every now and then I’ll do something different. Like on Saturday when I went to Chester and took my mum and sister out for afternoon tea for Mothers’ Day.

 


Nice.

Once in a while the planets will align and the gods and goddesses of all that is mysterious and magical will smile upon me and, after a pointless tiff with Bman,  he will apologise like this.

And that’s okay (although the spelling and grammar is NOT).
It’s okay to just be okay.

Xx