Thursday, 30 October 2014

Forty days: Pt 12 (the half-term shuffle)

I tell you what goes really well with a huge, time-pressured research task. UNSUPERVISED PUMPKIN CARVING. As dusk falls.


"So, uh, you're fine out here? In the gathering darkness? With your giant collection of knives? Good"


These children were clearly never taught the golden BOTH HANDS BEHIND THE CUTTING EDGE rule by Geoff "Mad Baz" Easton, Quaker school's terrifying woodwork teacher (each lost finger = 500 lines*). Actually, they probably did a better job without me resentfully grappling with my uncooperative laptop as I try to download Pinterest pumpkin templates. Try attaching a fecking template of that fecking snowman from Frozen to a SWEDE, Pinterest, like we used in my childhood (every year, we, the children of the Northern England 1970s emerge from the woodwork to assert that there were no pumpkins north of Watford until 1990 and bemoan our childhood deprivation. This year will be no different).


Only one small wound.

I am Quite Stressed. I had to go and have a posh lunch all by myself for a review at lunchtime, which should be lovely, and is certainly not a thing I should complain about, poor me and my many exquisite courses, but I had no time and too much to do and unsupervised children and having a posh lunch by yourself is just weird. On a good day you can pretend to be an icy Marlene Dietrich sort of cove, but when you are klutzy and blotchy and poorly dressed and when you keep flailing stuff onto the floor, the Marlene Dietrich illusion evaporates and you are just an idiot dropping a tempura prawn into someone's handbag (that wasn't today, but it did happen once and it so could have been today). The tweedy man sitting near me kept telling me how rejouissant (pleasing, uplifting) it was to watch me eat, which wasn't at all unnerving or creepy. Then the chef asked me for my card and the only things in my handbag were some fragments of shredded tissue, dog shit bags and a tampon.

Low points: either the dog deciding its own bed was sexually irresistible, or coughing so much I had to retch in the sink and in doing so, banging my head really hard on the tap giving myself a massive forehead lump. The neighbour's free jazz stylings to "Small Town Boy" on the saxophone weren't great either.

High point: the buttery, buttery linguine with white truffle wasn't too shabby. OH POOR ME. POOR POOR ME.

I need to go back to my neglected research task now. I'm still missing one innovative office offering.

(*it was actually 'columns' in Quaker school because non-conformism)

6 comments:

Jo said...

Ah but how could you doubt a Blue Peter badge winner. Mind you,kids today don't know they are born with their namby pamby pumpkins, swede carving now that is character building.

yellowbelfast said...

oh Waffley one, I remember very well being left alone in the barn with 6 friends , a bread knife and several turnips circa 1976. It wasn't much of a Halloween party in the end,as we were subsequently made to sit with "lips zipped" for 4 hours in Casualty, and no-one got to see my father set fire to himself in the manner of 1975, the year when he thought that the wet leaves on the bonfire might burn faster if he poured on a little paraffin.
If it wasn't for all those BBC Public Information Films, I don't know how we would have survived,

Anonymous said...

oh I feel for you - bought a new dog bed in August since dog was going to sitter and bed-in-use was disgusting -- sitter was bemused that dog ignored bed for the ten days of the visit but sat in it in the final half hour as I was driving to fetch him -- he's ignored it since until tonight when he went to superdog lengths to dislodge the internal cushion to give it a good seeing to - I feel this dog bed, possibly also the dog, needs a exorcist.

Stacy said...

As I sit here trying to wrangle six different documents into a single .pdf with the same formatting and margins (christ, microsoft word--you are responsible for the 76 new grey hairs I will sprout after today), my day is much brightened by visions of swede carving, accidental self immolation and pervy dogs. The boys' pumpkins look great, unsupervised or no.

Joanna Crawford said...

The boys did an amazing job! We always used swedes in the west country, hard to believe now isn't it! I do find myself missing them a bit as our pumpkins start to liquefy after 2 days. A swede would last you past bonfire night...

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