A Big List

I kid you not.  The girl in the bikini has a list of new domain names written on her for an auction.
The company is GoDaddy

I've got a big list of things I must do today.

Firstly, I have to get up at 5:33am to:

A. Relieve the pressure on my no-longer-so-elastic bladder

B. Drive my son down to the railway station so he can get into work on time.  This has become necessary since the story of TSB Ends up in Court(3), as m'son no longer has transport of his own.  Why is it that the parents always have to be available to help fix the silly mistakes of the offspring?

Then I get to go back to bed.
*Huge Gloat*

This is the first day of a two week holiday. 

Teachers get slagged off repeatedly by the press, the government, the parents, the teaching council, local Iwi, and Uncle Tom Cobley and all.  But I don't care because

I HAVE TWO WEEKS OFF.

Secondly, I will be getting up at around 9 to fix myself one of my holiday breakfasts.  There are two types of holiday breakfast


Let's call them Menu A and Menu B.

Menu A consists of one thin slice of bread, lightly toasted, with a scraping of jam or possibly marmite, washed down by a cup of weak, sugarless and milkless tea.

Menu A

Menu B consists of one slice of fried bread, two hash browns, 4 rashers of smoked back bacon, 2 pork sausages, 3 scrambled eggs (with extra butter and cream in the mix) two slices of black pudding, 2 fried tomatoes, a handful of fried mushrooms (in butter).  This is accompanied by two slices of thickly buttered toast and mugs of strong tea.  But no sugar, I've got to watch my health.

Menu B

The factors which decide which menu will be available are easily explained.

Is my beloved at home or not.

Guess which Menu is "Beloved Approved ®"?  Go on, have a wild stab in the dark.

Today it's going to be Menu B, so after eating, and of course the cleaning and tidying up to forensic standards, I'm going back to bed with a little glass of what the French would call a "petit digestif" and a good book, followed by a little nap to let the food properly digest.

I'll get up for a light lunch about 1 o'clock,  and as the sun is now officially "over the yardarm" I'll have a couple of glasses of wine with a clear conscience.

Then of course it's time for the post-lunch afternoon laze/read on the garden lounger, ensuring I get enough sunlight to keep up my vitamin D, and plenty of liquids to ward of dehydration. 


My Beloved will be getting back from her coven meetings about 5 o'clock, so I'll scatter a few dozen examples of my students' work on the dining table, with an artistically placed red pen on top.

I'll put on my usual expression which can be described as "The poor bloody martyr has been slaving over this huge pile of marking since dawn" which will get me a little peck on the cheek, an offer of a little glass of vino as a pick-me-up and an instruction to lie down until dinner is ready.

A pleasant evening of reading books, family conversation and intermittent (and highly selective) TV viewing will keep me occupied until an early bedtime with a mug of Horlicks and another good book.

Before I conclude this little post, a word on our selective TV viewing.  In our family, anyone can watch anything they wish, with a simple majority vote for any differences in priorities, with one exception.  NO SO-CALLED REALITY SHOWS. EVER.

Says it all really.  Poor bastard.

When I come home from work (and I can assure you that teaching or even trying to teach up to 150 kids in a day, and usually followed by inane (and often insane) committee meetings on every f*cking subject under the sun, is work.) I want to have my over-stressed consciousness relaxed by some form of entertainment, which decidedly is not watching a bunch of hyper-egotistical, narcissistic, exhibitionists display their psychoses, neuroses and quite often various body parts to all and sundry.

I want a plot.

I want professional actors.

I want, if at all possible, a happy ending.  (A little bit of tastefully exposed taut female flesh is looked on as a bonus)

I definitely don't want to watch a semi-human bricklayer called "Wayne" exhibiting his uneducated prejudices and discussing his hemorrhoids while trying to get his hand down the front of "Traci's" dress and/or panties.

So no reality TV.

I am quite willing to repeat this daily list for the next two weeks, with the added bonus of my beloved leaving for the UK in the second week for a 9 week trip.  She's off to bring comfort and support to my lovely daughter who should be adding a new member to the family in about 4 weeks.

But this means that I've got 9 weeks of Menu B.

I hope I can survive.