stings and things
I got my dad to trim the hedge this weekend. And it had wasps nest in it. Ho Ho. So his hands swelled up and his face looked like the elephant man. When his eye started to close up I finally stopped laughing (more or less) & took him to the doctors. They pumped him full of steroids and put him on a course of antihistamine’s. Fortunately he was still allowed alcohol, so he didn’t get to cross.
Anna (his wife) cleaned my kitchen & together we all gutted the bathroom. Yup the avocado suite and 70’s pine cladding has gone. Steve A did the plumbing type stuff and we got the cast iron bath out with minimal amounts of swearing.
So the folks have gone home, the bathroom has gone and on Sunday afternoon I got good and drunk. Pretty successful weekend really.
Anna (his wife) cleaned my kitchen & together we all gutted the bathroom. Yup the avocado suite and 70’s pine cladding has gone. Steve A did the plumbing type stuff and we got the cast iron bath out with minimal amounts of swearing.
So the folks have gone home, the bathroom has gone and on Sunday afternoon I got good and drunk. Pretty successful weekend really.
posted by Old Man Rich at 11:06 AM
7 Comments:
You need before and after photos--of the stings and the house.
Sorry to hear of the stings--try baking soda and water mixed together for future stings if you can't get to the doc fast.
Yes, I agree with Jessica--photos of before and after.
Could try harder ...
Rich some advice please - whilst you and parents have had a good weekend I’m sitting here writing reports,(not all holidays!) and wondering how many times can I use ‘challenging’ as a euphemism for being utterly badly behaved, before I go insane?
How many ways can I write ‘appears to lack focus’?, when what I really mean is that Michael is an idle sod who doesn’t have the gumption to fasten his own shoelaces of a morning, can’t hold a conversation with anyone beyond the four people in his peer group, and has less classroom presence than my mouldering paperback copy of The Wildlife of Rural Shropshire.
(3rd Edition 1951).
Can you think of a phrase that puts the words ‘has a tendency to react with extreme violence to the merest perception of a suggestion that perhaps they might attempt to follow teachers’ instructions’ in a good light?
Nope. Neither can I.
What about the suggestion to mum that Clyde stops bringing in his charge sheets to show off to the more impressionable members of his tutor group? I do understand that it makes him look cool, but heading toward an Asbo by age 15 cannot really be counted as a legitimate career path.
Not in school anyway.
I don’t think.
To be honest though, I do get some satisfaction in writing reports, and it’s not simply the chance to tell Chantelle-Marie’s mother that she should persuade her daughter to wear more skirt and less eyeliner and oh, here’s a thought, perhaps consider for one moment the possibility of bringing a pen to class.
And doing her homework.
No, what I enjoy about writing reports is the chance to praise good kids, of whom, surprisingly, there are many in school.
Many.
There, I said it.
I’ll come clean. Despite my protestations to the contrary, I am forced to admit that Bog Standard Technology College (motto: Try Your Best) is full of kids who are usually quite nice and often work fairly hard in class.
And some, one or two of them, are bloody marvellous.
And writing reports gives me the chance to tell them that I think they’re good people; without the background noise generated by the whinging, stroppy, can’t-do/won’t-do, reluctant ten per cent who occupy ninety per cent of my teaching time.
Writing reports gives me the chance to tell the parents of good kids that their child is normal, decent, and not noticeably stupid.
Which is always a good message to put across. And a message that is usually, in my experience, gratefully received.
So I’ll soldier on, trying to invent new and different ways of telling parents that Thomas is a chancer and a cheat, that Bobbi skips any lesson that occurs after lunch and that Kelly is, basically, a bit thick.
And if I have to write the odd bland phrase, if I must neglect the chance I’d promised myself to write a scathing expose, and make the odd euphemistic remark instead of searing the page with the burning flame of my truth. Well, I will.
And I’ll savour those moments when I get to say that Charlie is a joy to have in class and Nicole should consider applying for a scholarship in welding art and that, despite her gothic makeup, dyed black hair and multiple piercings (and was it really wise to allow her to get that tattoo when she was thirteen?) Michaela is bright, interesting and should do well when she leaves school.
Because school is about young people learning. And being around that, being able to contribute to that whole system in some small way, no matter how haphazard it seems at times, is a good thing.
It’s entertaining.
It’s challenging.
And although I don’t want to be quoted on this, it beats working.
god of dustpans (but not brushes)(sorry)
Elder abuse. Hmmm. I see....
Ouch! You're lucky he didn't pop you one!
Parents are great for home repair and construction. =)
Glad you didn't let any of this change you.
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