---

Am I too kind?

Mini rant here.  

I tell my students what the coursework is.  It's only GCSE/A-level stuff - hardly as if their life is impacted by it.  I give them deadlines, schedules, etc.  The school has a 'non-negotiable' deadline.  Do they stick to it - do they heck!

When I was at school, the rules were simple - hand the coursework in on time or it doesn't get marked.  If that screws up your grade - your problem.  Oh no, we have to do the whole fluffy-huggy crap of extensions, full written feedback on plans to improve and all that crap.  Net result - 20 pieces of nonsense the day before they are posted off to the examboard.

Hang on guys, I want your work done and dusted by Easter.  So while you guys are out partying tonight, spare a thought for those of us who are wasting out time scrawling through your piss-poor pathetic attempt at work that you've ignored for three months that could have been good had you heeded my advice (that I sat up to midnight writing on a previous scrawl of yours) and is actually a direct cut and paste from Wikipedia.

And don't even think about the usual dog-ate-my-USB-memory-stick bulls**t.

 

Slurring speech

Mentally, I think: "Ask wifey if she wants the cheese grated and the towels put in the dryer"

Mouth says: "Do you want the grater put in the towels?  I mean, the cheese put in the dryer?"

A while later, I think: "Do I need to get carrots from the shop and is there enough Bisto left?"

I say: "Do you want carrots in the gravy?"

That is, I am thinking perfectly fine but sounding like I have had a stroke (without the slurring), or am quite drunk.  Neither is the case.

I've been unfaithful

I hadn't seen Gillian in six weeks and I missed her. Her look, her touch, her smile: all those things that made her unique.

She wasn't expecting me for another half hour, but I called over anyway hoping to catch her in. She saw me through the window and beckoned me- it was my lucky day. The door was stiff: it had been stiff for ages and she had given up making threats to fix it. It added character to the old building.

She greeted me at the door and led me over to sit near the far wall, where we could talk and watch the world go past. With her usual attentiveness she helped me get comfortable. It had been like this since we first met and I honestly didn't want it any other way. First we'd talk about where I had been since we were last together and share a joke, then she'd rub her hands softly through my hair, touching my neck. Then... well, use your imagination.

Today was no different. Her hands started at the top of my head, gently working their way down. Then Gillian froze, briefly. She knew.  Something in me must have given it away.  Her hands carried on. Then she stopped altogether.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

I looked blankly, trying to pretend to be confused, "Tell you what?"

"Who was she?" Her warm, honeyed voice was not warm or honeyed any more.

I knew I was in trouble, but I couldn't back down now, "Who? Gillian, you're confusing me." She was staring at me. I stared back at her. Whose poker-face would crack first?

"I know. You're different, I can tell. I've seen it before - you're not the first and not the last either. For five years it's only been me and today, you arrive from your trip all smiles and glad to see me. I can tell. It was about three weeks ago. I just know."

The pretence was over. "I thought you'd be annoyed. It was the business trip in Manchester-"

She cut me off: "How old was she? I bet she couldn't do it as well as me. Some blonde bimbo with big tits, wasn't she?"

How did she know? "She was sixteen, maybe seventeen. Couldn't have been much older. I didn't know her before - it was one of those things that happens when you are away for a couple of weeks. I was desperate. I could hardly come back to you for one day, could I?"

My logic did not help. Gillian look genuinely disappointed. "She was only a child and she's ruined everything we've done between us. All my work on you, wasted."

I protested.  Surely we could try again.

"Look at the mess she's made of your neck and the back of your head. I've spent ages getting it nice and neat and making the bald bits not stand out and giving it shape and this youngster comes along."

I should have known: you cannot fool a hairdresser.

Bork Text

My wife and I have an on-going joke that comes from a mutual appreciation of the Swedish Chef (the muppet that says Bork! a lot). This scaled new heights of silliness when I installed Bork Text on her PC, and 'forgot' to mention it. This little addon for Mozilla translates the content of any web page to 'Bork Text' - it gives your browser a Swedish accent. It's easy to turn off.

She nearly fell off her chair laughing.

Addition: I used Bork Tex to translate this post, so you could appreciate it:

---
My veeffe-a und I hefe-a un oon-gueeng juke-a thet cumes frum a mootooel eppreceeeshun ooff zee Svedeesh Cheff (zee mooppet thet seys Bork! a lut).  Thees sceled noo heeeghts ooff seelliness vhee I instelled Bork Text oon her PC.  Thees leettle-a eddun fur Muzeella trunsletes zee cuntent ooff uny veb pege-a tu 'Bork Text' - it geefes yuoor brooser a Svedeesh eccent.  It's iesy tu toorn ooffff.

Weird day - alas no camera

It's been an odd day, sadly I was without a camera.  

Kodak Moment no. 1 would have been the sight in Tesco of hundreds and hundreds of toilet rolls on special offer, between the chocolate and wines.  My wife didn't notice them until I quietly asked: "Have they been tipped off about a mass outbreak of the shits?"

Kodak moment no. 2 was wife steering me towards a 'nice old man' in town, wearing a black hat and a black coat.  Actually, he looked like a dementia patient out for a walk, with a couple of burly chaps either side in case he got confused.  The doddery old man was Ian Paisley, out on the election trail.  Thankfully, nobody noticed my wife saying not-quite-under-the-breath, "Shoot the bastard!"

 

Kodak moment no. 3 found us walking past a coffee shops and my wife saying "There's CL" (CL being a sometimes 
commentator here).  I spent around 30 seconds looking up and down the street, trying to find our friend and her 
husband who were sitting having coffee and laughing at me.

Then we went home, went for a walk and went to see Charlotte's Web in a cinema that mercifully lacked piles of children.

Kodak Moment no. 4 is tonight's eclipse - alas, my camera is lacking a x4000 zoom to get close to the moon.

Have a good weekend y'all.