Monthly Archives: February 2008
Marmot in flowers
INSET day today and there was no heating in our block. A leak says they. Me and the rest of the department spent all day with nothing but a small portable heater and the sun for warmth. Ugh.
When I got home I piled on the blanket, pulled my hoodie hood up and consumed toast and tea in order to warm myself up. It took approximately two hours to shake the chill that had managed to settle in me across the course of the day, and I passed the time by discussing with MW#1 whether or not I am more like a Marmot or a Hamster.
All right, the Marmot might have messy fur like my messy hair, they hibernate which is something I would sometimes really quite like to do and I rather like their striped noses… However, I am quite clearly *so* much cuter than a Marmot. After the rigours of such an intellectual debate I then emulated the hamster above and fell into two hours of very warm and fuzzy sleep. I’ve got a lesson observation tomorrow- Did I get any preparatory work done? I’ll let you guess…
Since the last entry of substance I have done a few things other than curl up under my blanket- Yes, it’s the recap of the last three weeks or abouts.
The students are still removed from my form and the school is still being very very poor at sorting the little madams out; my Head of Department and other colleagues are still lovely and very supportive however so it’s not entirely dire. I had my first parents evening at the school and it went well without confrontation or major difficulty. Huzzah.
My boss is keen to keep me in the department so is pushing for me to be made permanently full-time; I might have to teach another subject but to be honest i’d prefer to do that than have to do supply again ugh. Will just have to wait and see how things unfold, try not to get too hopeful. I’m coming up to the end of my second term of my NQT year- Just one more to go…
The next two or so weeks are going to be problematic- a unit deadline for my Year 10 group and the end of GCSE coursework deadline for Year 11. Hysteria. Then they get given their exam paper and spend the next four weeks preparing (i.e. doing nothing then panicking) whilst I support them (i.e. tear my hair out). I also have Year 8 reports to write and a Year 9 Parents evening to attend. Joyous.
I met up with my Mum recently in Lahndahn tahn and we spent some time in an interesting temporary exhibition of prints and drawings tucked away in the British Museum; it was an fab mixture of contemporary stuff and images going back to the middle ages- it was the strange museum-with-no-mandate selection that pleased me so much.
After deeply upsetting me once again I called MW#1 on some of his bullshit, carefully collecting my thoughts about his behaviour into a clearly set out email. I met up with him for pie and we finally got to swap Christmas presents; I also received a present to cover the last two birthdays of mine he’s missed. Well, after telling him exactly what I wanted I ended up having to go and source it myself and pay for quite a proportion of it too; although generous the gift wasn’t what he’d teased me with so I felt more than a little let down and somewhat unable to enjoy what i’d just received.
I used his gift to fiiinally buy myself the underwear i’d been lusting after for at least six months; as previously mentioned it needs a bit of washing and wearing but it makes me happy to see it glowing riotously pink amongst the other underwear. The lovely lady in the shop remembered me from back in August too :) My Christmas present was an excellent box set of Hitchcock films (the majority of which I haven’t seen) and this greatly pleased me because it was such a well-selected gift.
I fed his rather disgraceful addiction to Games Workshop and he gained “a thing” for The Stripper Shoes. Almost three months since we’d last seen each other… I feel better for having clarified things. When I said goodbye I needled him on saying things that he doesn’t mean or promising things that he won’t come through on. He said we’d meet in two weeks…
… living with such a cynical, pessimistic outlook really is helpful when it comes to life in general, and that includes MW#1. I can be passionate about many things in this world yet I have learnt from a young age not to expect much from anyone nor to ask and am therefore extremely cynical at the same time. Go me. I’ve the low expectations of the constantly crushed but the longing of a romantic.
Ugh, back to the chalkface.
From The Rite of Spring – Kenneth Macmillan [photo]
I had a fabulous time at the ballet last night- It was most excellent.
The Opera House was very beautiful inside- A nice mix of the old gold and red velvet auditorium and the white walls and wide panes of glass of the extension. The audience were a good mix of posh, normal, young and old and I didn’t feel like too much of a freak. My seat was right in the front row and so I could peer down into the pit and see the musicians pottering about below.
The first of the three works was Chroma by Wayne McGregor- Boy was that an interesting watch. White minimal set, dancers dressed in neutral shorts and vests, skin exposed without tights. Their skin and their bodies was what shocked – really – they were close to me and I could see their pale mottled skin, where it flushed rosy pink from the pressure of their clothes, where it blanched from the pressure of a lift. It was not arcing, graceful dance but dance of broken up gestures, acrobatic throws, writhing and twisting- Frantic and athletic. Amazingly performed by dancers of whom I have no idea how they remember all the minute moves.
First interval and I shelled out £11.50 for a glass of rose champagne- Yeah, I know, I ain’t got no klass… I drank, I people watched, I walked out onto the balcony, sorry, “loggia” and stared down at the deserted Piazza below. I know it’s not like ballet and opera are for the gentry but I still worried about what to wear etc. I didn’t however feel like my presence was inappropriate and for whatever reason I drew glances as I wandered- Might have been the hair, the cherry red tights or the eyeliner… :D
Second was the Kenneth Macmillan Different Drummer– Again a bit strange but story-based when compared to Chroma. The lead had to be a soldier losing his grip on sanity due to the horrors of war and from being experimented upon by a sadistic doctor; he ends up stabbing his wife and then drowns himself in a bath. Nice. Anyway, the lead was amazing- He was totally anguished, tearing at himself, throwing himself around the stage, hyperventilating- Which was again a revelation- The sounds I heard. Dancers struggling to breathe with the effort expended, the swish of costumes on floor, grunts of exertion as they threw themselves and others about.
Interval two and I hit some chocolate ice cream. Mmmm.
Last was Macmillan’s Rite of Spring– I can only imagine what this must have been like to view in the 60’s when his version was first performed. All the dancers were dressed in unitards covered in bright hand prints with the men wearing white face paint and bald caps with the women wearing white jagged wigs with black-tipped raffia locks.
Lots of performers on stage, lots of jazz hands (hee) and stomping and implied death and violence. The lead seemed like she was going to keel over towards the end; she had to perform a solo for five minutes or so and with all the kicking, running and waving I thought she might expire. The vibrancy of the moves certainly faded by the end- The jumps weren’t as high, the arms less straight. She got a bunch of flowers at the end though; I don’t know how they keep such energy night after night.
I had such a lovely time but I was certainly glad to get back home and under the duvet- Fuck me it was cold last night. Brr. My back is sore today but I can say I’m doing pretty well so far on one of my Resolutions hooray!
I spent a highly successful weekend being gastropod-like; it was however so cold on the sofa I had to wear a t-shirt, jumper and hoodie before burying myself under le blanket orange and hugging my furry hotwater bottle. My hands were otherwise too cold to type very well which was a bit of a problem as I was actually trying to do some work. Honest.
Caversham Princess is having a brush with medical science today (more like a brisk bit of rubbing than a brush)- I am hoping all goes smoothly and that her recovery is swift.
I’m off to the Opera House this evening to take in Chroma – I am WELL excited, if not a little nervous. Other than a brief look upstairs at the bar i’ve not been before and although I am going to see weird contemporary dance, the poshness is a little scary. I am going to wear a skirt :)
Partially courtesy of MW#1 I have some fabulous new underwear- The neon pink SPANK set I blogged about a million years back (August). The knickers are rather on the skimpy side but the bra looks super awesome in all it’s pink mentalness- Though I have discovered that although it is made of silk it is a little on the irritating side; I hope a bit of wearing and washing will fix this.
This week I will fiiinally get round to rounding up the last three weeks. I promise.
Nudi Pixel – Not what you think, safe for work
Today I came home to an Indian Takeaway menu on the doormat, not a valentine. How kind. No steak and blowjob for me but salad in front of Supernatural and some rather less satisfying pornography.
I’m going through one of those phases where porn doesn’t seem to work very well for me- I can’t find what I want and I feel a little glum when I download something. I find myself thinking about the real thing and obviously porn doesn’t compare. It’s not warm for one.
I will be spending this weekend being a slug – I’ve got the house to myself eee – No romantic meals nor opportunity to show my stocking tops. No-one to appreciate me. Just me, my blanket and Patrick vs. the outside world. Woo.
Just one day to get through, then i’m free for a week. At last…
Blue is calling for you…
Taken by Flickr user pain_amp1013
I’m going to predict the future here… The 100% record of zero valentines received will remain resolutely intact come tomorrow. Twenty-seven, no fulfilling relationship, never been told I Love You by anyone I loved. Rock on.
The phone goes. I drag my tired possibly ill carcass down the stairs and pick up…
Hello… Could I speak to Monky please?
Ah… Hello. My name is Blue Demon.
Wow… Hello… I’ve heard of you…
Ah… Oh… you’re too kind…
I thought you were dead?
Oh that was just a work I threw in to keep things in the mix so to speak. I’m actually immortal.
Ah… I see… So what are you up to these days?
Well, i’m doing quite well running a small chain of nail salons.
Yes, surprising though that might sound, they’ve really taken off over the last couple of years.
And do you run them by yourself? How’s business?
I just oversee the stores, so i’m not really on the shop floor so to speak. Most of the staff are Filipino. Petite girls. Business is good at the moment; we’re thinking of opening a new branch in Basingstoke. Anyway, enough of that- The reason i’m calling is that i’ve heard tell that you’ve never had a valentine and I wanted to see if you would like to go out Saturday. Just a meal, some drinks. My treat.
Oh… wow… um, sorry… i’m rather taken aback.
That’s okay. I realise this is a little odd.
Er, i’d love to, that’s really very kind of you.
Oh, it is nothing; I just want to cheer you up, even if its just for a little while. You know, take you out, show you off. I think you need showing off.
Oh… Thank you! You’re much too kind…
Nonsense. Anyway, shall we say Saturday at 7? Meet for a drink first?
That sounds lovely. See you then!
Don’t be a martyr to the merchandise.
Bushbaby taken from Flickr user Sharlee H
It’s been over two weeks I know, and i’ve been up to a fair bit more than is usual in my life, however sleep and lounging has taken the place of blogging. Only one week to get through before I get a week off for half term… Chroma and days ensconced sur le blanket orange… le sigh…
VD on Thursday- Ugh, the amount of stuff in the shops and on TV is fucking disgraceful. M&S and your roses that don’t smell of anything- Go fuck yourselves. That’s right, you heard. What would be a good Valentines day if I was with someone who would let me love them? Perhaps a trip to London Zoo or Kew Gardens… I would drink raspberry Slush Puppies for lubrication (getting excited when my tongue turned blue) and would spend my day being overly and inexplicably enthusiastic as I encountered all the cool animals and plants.
To this hindered romantic, kissing next to the Lorises and Bushbabies in the dim light of the nocturnal animal exhibit or under a giant cycad in the peaceful warmth of a glasshouse seems an idea most lovely. Like other wishes such as falling asleep in someone’s arms or role playing my love being the washing machine repair man, these ideas remain unfulfilled, and seem destined to be so for the longest time ahead…
Oh, and yes I do know about Lorises peeing on themselves to leave urine-scented trails they can follow back… I still think they’re cool…
I had another pretty good weekend- Started off somewhat “For fucks sake!” passed through a stretch of feeling “warm, doted upon and content” and ended up “Blankety goodness eeee.” Alas, I am now sailing through the looking glass-flat seas of being hormonally washed out, so it may be some time before I manage to recap.
I finally got to wear a pair of Caversham Princess-gifted knickers in vengeance woohoo; in my new cincher and my red seamed stockings I have discovered that I look TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME.