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Monday, 2 April 2012

The day started badly, and went rapidly downhill from there

Turning to custard is a Kiwi phrase which really means it's FUBAR

I must have upset a mythical being or two in the last few days, because everything today turned to shit custard.

It started with me falling asleep again after the alarm went off at 5:23, and I didn't really surface again until 6:00.

Staggering through my normal morning routine, I managed to;
  • Forget to plug in the toaster
  • Then set it too high and burned the toast
  • Filled the kettle but forgot to switch it on.
  • Switched off the computer instead of switching it on.
  • Dropped a cup full of instant coffee granules (why do inoffensive liitle granules turn to globs of sticky black stuff within 0.03 second when they hit the floor)
  • Kicked the dog (That was semi-deliberate, as the little shit-machine didn't want to get out of the way)

Finally finished my breakfast and set off for the car.

Back up from the garage as I'd forgotten my lunch, back to the garage.
Back up from the garage as I'd forgotten my briefcase, back to the garage.
Back up from the garage because I'd forgotten to brush my teeth.(and it really wasn't fair to poison the kids with a combination of coffee/morning breath)
Brushed my teeth, back to the garage.
Back up from the garage because I'd forgotten my phone, my relief diary and my ebook reader.
Checked my head was still on, headed back to the garage.

Strange, the car wasn't responding to the remote control.
Unlocked the car manually.
Car wouldn't start.
Radio was dead.

Battery was completely flat. (I'd washed the bl**dy car yesterday and I think I managed to somehow short it out)
Put it on charge for 10 minutes.
Still didn't start.
Got my Beloved's MX5 out of the carport and got the jump cables out.
Opened the bonnet of my Beloved's MX5...WTF was the battery?

I kid you F*cking battery
No battery..this is needs battery...WTF was the F*CKING BATTERY?
Ah, vague memory..opened car boot (trunk to any Americans reading this) searched through pile of bags, clothes umbrellas, food packs, ice packs, empty munchy bar wrapper, wine bottles?  WTF were two wine bottles doing in my Beloved's car.  Was she a secret drinker? (Mental note to breathalyse Beloved on my return). two more umbrellas. WTF does anyone need THREE umbrellas in a car boot? Discovered battery hiding under floor mat.  Hit battery for hiding. Bruised knuckles. Blood.

Reversed MX5 around so boot was next to my car's engine (NOTE: Did it in 3 moves, proving the natural superiority of the male) got out of car to attach jump leads.
Got back in car and moved OFF jump leads.  Rather sheepishly...male superiority took a bit of a hit.

Got my car started.
Put away jump leads, battery charger, extension cables and put Beloved's MX5 back where it was, but back to front from where it was when I started.  Pictured Beloved's facial expression as she tried to remember what was different. HAHAHA.

Got in my car and drove off.

Not too bad, only 30 minutes late.

Fuel warning light came on.

Filled car on way to school.  Lady in front to queue was seemingly buying entire week's groceries from petrol station.  Have these people ever heard of SUPERF*CKINGMARKETS?.  Then she had to go back out to get purse from car. 
And they let them breed?
Contemplated immediate euthanasia (of her, not me) but reckoned cops might get a wee bit nigly if I cut off her stupid head.

Paid. (36 seconds, card ready in hand, finger poise on PIN number pad.  That's the way to do it ladies;  Preparation.
Back to car.
Back to till, picked up car keys, returned to car.
Sped up hill to school.
Sped along road to school. 

SHIT. Was that an unmarked radar car?  School speed limit now 40kph.  Wouldn't be surprised if I got a ticket.

Phone went off.  Another teacher off sick
Into office, frantically phoning relievers, printing off class roles and plans, arranging the relief work.

Got everything finished by the 8:25 deadline.

Relaxing now.

Stress bleeding off.

Throbbing in temples reducing to mild grumble.
Looking forward to quick cup of coffee before teaching starts.


Asked if I had arranged cover for the special meeting between 2 and 3.


Nobody told me about any F*CKING meeting.

Then the Principal mentioned that he wanted all Heads of Faculties (including my own good self) to give a quick talk at 3:15 whole school meetingabout our plans to increase maori achievement.  We had done some preparation and planning for this last week, but nobody had mentioned a talk. All the notes from the meeting were being held by a HOF who was off today.

Surprise...we want you to give a talk

Rushed around (goodby, cup of dearly needed coffee) to arrange some covers, then headed for class.

Lovely kids.  Working quietly and well.

Bless their little cotton socks, at least they are better organised than RINGO, who had called the meeting and hadn't thought to mention it to me.

I can't get home quickly enough tonight, but if things keep going in this fashion, I'll probably run over a sheep, hit a cyclist or even encounter a lovely little 7.6 earthquake.

I'm looking forward to either kicking the dog again when I get home (did I mention the dog-poo I found on my shoe?) or a rather large whisky. 

Maybe even both.
Both is good
(I added this because Ricard[of RBB], who is no longer a Muslim said he wanted more page 3 girls.)
(Here you go Richard, your wish is my command)


  1. This feels vaguely {ha} familiar. I especially empathise with the petrol scenario. These berks should be shot.

    I once found out half way to the airport that I was driving in my slippers and had no alternative but to carry on and hopefully get a cheap pair of shoes at the other end before attending what now feels suspiciously like the kind of meeting in your picture here. {No - I didn't arrange the bloomin thing before you ask! Did manage to get a pair of shoes though. Brightened up the security peoples day no end when they asked me to take off my shoes and put them up for x-ray and they saw what I was wearing. I've never let the wife buy my slippers since then.}

    Hope the day got better.

  2. And while we're on the subject, could someone please set up a separate network of ATMs for those of us who *want to get some money out* full stop.

    The times I've been stuck behind someone who wants mini statements from three separate accounts, then goes back to the first one to check their balance and get it printed again, then the second one from which they withdraw their money, before resetting teh PIN on their third account. All done with luxurious leisurely torpor.

    I like "turning to custard".

  3. It sounds like a doozy. I hope tomorrow is better.

  4. Alistair: Slippers? Was this a senior moment? Believe it or not, many of our students like to wear slippers in class. They also walk to school in them. I suppose it's better than the Kiwi penchant for walking about in bare feet, but not by much.

    looby: You've got money to take out the ATM?? I though all poor students (and ex-students) were always skint.

    However I completely agree. If they want to check their accoubnt can't the stupid scrotes use the Internetwebthingy?

    Custard is good.
    Turn to custard is bad.
    Custard on Apple Crumble is scrummy.

    Richard: Glad you liked it. I'll do another tomorrow.

    Patience_C rabstick: It was. It won't, but thanks for trying.

  5. We had a mufti day on Friday and several girsl turned up to classes wearing their pyjamas (Oneseeys) and slippers. Very cute, but I am not actually sure whether they came to school in what they had been wearing to bed or not from the night before. One girl looked surprised when I said I guess you won't have to worry about changing for bed tonight.

    I suppose it made the decision of what to wear to school on mufti day a real no-brainer.

  6. We don't live in the USA - one major reason is the lax gun control there and the level of inpatience in my wife when ordering meals from a bar/counter in a pub/cafe... she makes sure we've all decided, including alternatives in case of the inevitable "We're out of chicken" statement... she goes to the bar/counter card in hand order in brain... and there just getting there a second before her is the woman who will now say... "Has the lasagne got beef in it... oh I don't want that. Clara, Clara, do you want to try the vege sausages? No? What about the burger then"... etc. my Mrs goes redder and redder and redder - honestly one day she will just lose it and they'll be death and destruction in a little cafe somewhere in the Cotswolds...

  7. VG: I HATE mufti days. It brings out all the bad side of the kids. It also brings out extreme slutishness in the girls. I've never seen skirts so short, or necklines so low. It gets a bit ridiculous when a 13 year oldgirl is wearing a wonderbra.

    Furtheron: AH, I understand completely. I'm the sam as your dear wifr. I like to get every decision made, with alternatives, before I go up to the counter. My Beloved (if I let her) would rather stand in some sort of metaphysical trance staring at the menu and muttering to herself for at least 5 minutes, while blocking everyone else from approaching the counter to order.

    Maybe your dear wife and I can arrange to meet in the Cotswolds sometime. I'll bring my favourite flamethrower.

  8. oh my.........some days you're just ment to stay in bed..... and maybe eat custard!!

  9. Totally agree about the slutty girls clothes worn on mufti days TSB! It is getting worse every year. I had to take 5 classes on Friday (The mufti day) and 3 of them were Year 9's. OMG the kids were diabolical that day. The boys were off the wall. I reflected upon this later that evening and figured out hte poor buggers were in hormone overdrive, due to what the girls were wearing.THey were in chest thumping mode in response to the very slutty outfits. Lots of makeup, boobs and thighs everywhere. Many were dressed as if they were going night clubbing. THe girls in the PJ's were quite tame in comparison.

    To top it off the kids not only wanted to look sexy but smell sexy and were constantly spraying bloody areasol body spray and lynx everywhere, to which I had to go into confisication mode and teach with open doors and windows. I still developed nausea from the sickly smells and a thumping great headache, regardless.

    IN my day mufti day meant wearing the obligatory jeans, sneakers and T-Shirt. None of this flashing of tits and bare skin. How modest we were in the 70's. Good I really am sounding old now!

  10. YaH: If I could have, I would have stayed in bed. It's normally much safer there, unless I fart.

    VG: Yep, muti day is hell. And we've got one on Thursday, which is also the last day of term. If I wasn't an athiest I'd ask you to pray for us.

    Laoch: Yep, as YaH infers, somedays it doesn't pay to get out of bed.


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