I am a swan, I am a swan, I am a swan
We've returned to term by hitting the ground running this year. Most of it, I'm okay with, some of it I'm a bit like a rabbit in the headlights, less wondering which way to run, but more thinking I could do with a lift!
I've started a new job. Only part time, well, that was the plan.
But there was another job, but only part time too.
Oh and then a few new pupils dropped by...
And, there's the planning which, if you're part time, does have a sneaking tendency to eat into your 'officially not working' days.
Job number 1 is a 'start from scratch' kind of job. There is no scheme, there are no resources, there's little money, there was a room, then there wasn't, there was a desk, but this soon became just a table, there is no swingy chair with wheels...and the coffee is instant!! But, it's fun to be 'in charge' of my own little department...which, truly is probably just a dept ;-) Ofsted are looming around the corner, you can see the shadows out of the corner of your eye, but I'm sure it'll be okay, if it's not, I will laminate them...I'm good at that at the moment!
The eldest has started his GCSE's. Which translates as him needing to carry around more weight in files than an EasyJet baggage allowance on a daily basis and there being 'no possible way' he can carry less or leave it in his locker, therefore I'm now putting part of my part time work salary into an ongoing physiotherapy fund for his later years! Why do kids insist on this???
Number two son has decided he wants to become an army cadet after scouts. Hmmm, okaaaaay I whine, it'll be okay. He loves being outdoors, he loves making things and pretending any garden cane or piece of wood is a samuri sword. He'll be fine with a gun in his hand. No really, he will be fine with that. I may not be. However, there is the lure that 'within the first couple of weeks' his bedroom will be ship shape and his clothes all hung up, so I'm happy to pay the subs just for that part of the deal!
The littlest is working through some post viral shit at the moment, which is proving quite hard and I am not going to put much of that on here, suffice to say, prognosis is good, but slow and we're on an exhausting steep learning curve.
And then there is the mess! Oh hell yeah, the mess.
The barn has gone! Quite literally today. I left for work and it was nearly all still there...minus the roof. I came home and it had been bulldozed and there is a vast, empty, intimidating SPACE!
My clematis is very grey from the dust. My fence, to keep in my stupid and incredibly over amorous labrador, is made from orange plastic and very wobbly and very dusty. There is glass in the driveway and I don't know how I will turn the car around tomorrow without needing to remove half a ton of gravel beforehand or risking a puncture. There is a very large hole in the patio and an even bigger one out on the drive. My aforementioned stupid labrador keeps coming indoors with a piece of drainpipe in her mouth to play fetch with and likes to leave that and other much smaller pieces of plastic and metal on the floor for me to step on. My language turns the air blue ...this is NOTHING to lego, I laugh in the FACE of lego!
The other dog is trying hard to resemble a womble these days. The steroids have made her slightly rotund and her hair likes to grow...a lot. I spend many occasions covered in dog hair whilst she lies on the floor with her legs akimbo letting me attack her with a less than useless dog trimmer. I resort to a pair of children's scissors because, despite owning hairdressing scissors and sewing scissors and paper scissors and kitchen scissors and some regular cut anything you like scissors, there are NONE to be found. I resort to a pair of semi blunt kids scissors and hack. She's not going to look any crazier than she did before, only she'll be a lot cooler (in the temperature sense of the word rather than the 'down wiv da spaniels' sense of the word!) and able to see. So now my patio is covered with a perpetual layer of dog fluff.
There is metal...a lot of metal...and dust, I'm sure I mentioned the dust. I have strange men coming to my door at 7am in the morning asking if they can take away the steel RSJ in his small white van. I am yelling for children to get out of the shower, brandishing a butter knife as I make sandwiches, I am make-up-less and wearing that early morning shadow and hair (mostly my own, but there could still be some womble in there!)... I laugh...perhaps a little hysterically, and suggest he might like to re-think the size of his vehicle and the weight of the RSJ. He looks at me oddly and retreats. I still own the RSJ and his van still has all four wheels on the floor!
The one saving grace is that I'm out in the morning before the noise of the pneumatic starts...luckily the relationship with 'most' of our neighbours is positive (for now!)
Swim, swim, for fuck's sake, keep paddling!
