Thank you strikers

To all my colleagues or are braver and more principled than I am,

Thank you for standing up for my pension.  I am not striking because I never got around to joining a union and my school is open.  I tend not to think about what I'm earning or how much money I'll have when I retire.  I probably should and as such I am grateful to all those who think about it for me and are prepared to take this action.

Will it make any difference?  Who knows.  Francis Maude said on the Andrew Marr show that the deal was, 'as good as it gets' and so that sounds to me like there is no room for negotiation.  A strike is a resort of last measure.  No one wants to make themselves unpopular or lose a day's pay but those who are taking action today are thinking of the future and the greater good.

It makes me furious when all government ministers can talk about is how unfair school strikes are.  They complain that people will have to make expensive childcare arrangements.  Surely, the point of schools is more than childcare and as such should be valued higher than babysitting?

From a very selfish point of view I am really looking forward to today.  It won't be a normal day.  Teachers won't be struggling to fit in everything they are prescribed to do by government and so I might just be able to have the choir for long enough so they can learn the songs for the concerts we have to do at the end of the week.

Teachers who are striking should have a good rest today and not feel guilty.  I, for one, am grateful that they are prepared to take a stand.

Les Dawson Stayed at Home

A bad workman blames his tools.  I blame the tools.  Usually, I play the piano like Les Dawson but today I played a beautiful piano and didn't play a single wrong note.  It was exam day for a few of my pupils and one was so nervous she insisted that I accompany her.  I did tell her she might do better with a 'proper accompanist' but she was insistent and I'm so glad I did it.  She looked sick before she went in but came out with the most enormous smile.  They all played really well today and I hope they get the mark they deserve.  It's very nerve-racking putting pupils in for exams.  As usual, I turned to stress baking for comfort.  Magic Star cupcakes.  

A nice treat for after the exam.  Then I came home and ate my bodyweight in Ryvitas.  Hopefully, the result will arrive tomorrow and I can eat a little less.  One of my pupils always hopes she is going to get 'an extinction'.  That seems a bit extreme to me.  A pass or merit would be enough.

Winter Weddings

Yesterday I went to the best Wedding I've been to in years. 'On a Sunday?', said my daughter's disbelieving boss when she said why she couldn't work the extra shift.  Yes, a Sunday.  And a Sunday is a good day for a wedding because even though it was the only wedding I've been to in years it would have been the best even if I had been to hundreds.

If you are from a large family, as I am, family weddings can be awful.  You can feel that you have been invited out of a sense of duty and that the couple would have much preferred to have a friend sitting in your seat.  You might not know them very well, or worse, not even like them very much.  Yesterday though, a wonderful couple got married.

Dressing for a winter wedding can be a fashion nightmare. My parents wedding was in April, on a snowy day and their wedding photos include my grandma in a huge fur coat and a cousin in mac, welly-boots and a balaclava.   I wanted to wear a dress that the long-suffering husband bought me for Christmas a few years ago but as it is sleeveless I was worried about goosebumps.  In the cold I can look like a plucked chicken. The only solution was to buy another cardigan.  I did feel sorry for the bridesmaids who had bare shoulders and no cardigan and the bride who had to spend a lot longer outside than anyone else  posing for photos.

False nails look lovely but are terribly impractical.  I'm not used to long nails as they click on the piano and so my idea of a manicure is a quick trim with the nail clippers.  I did make an effort and stuck on some beautiful false nails.  Going to the toilet, taking my contact lenses out and picking up anything small suddenly became challenging tasks.  Although, I used lots of glue one of the nails did pop off while I was taking a canapé.  I would therefore like to make a public apology to anyone who had a small piece of crunchy plastic in their tiny salmon tart.

There were so many great things about this wedding.  Games on the table, in case you got bored; a small bag of sweets, in case you got hungry; fantastic speeches, especially from the bride and groom's small son, who grabbed the microphone and said, "I've done a poo.";  a great cake, that looked like cheese but tasted of the most perfect Victoria Sandwich sponge.

I hope the couple will be very happy.

Warning

 Warning! When I am an old lady I shall wear purple with a red hat that doesn't go and doesn't suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves and satin sandals and say we've no money for butter.  I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells and run my stick along public railings and make up for the sobriety of my youth.  I shall go out in my slippers in the rain and pick flowers in other peoples gardens and learn to spit. You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat and eat three pounds of sausages at a go or only bread and pickle for a week and hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.  But now we must have clothes that keep us dry and pay our rent and not swear in the street and set a good example for the children.  We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.  But maybe I ought to practice a little now? So that people who know me are not too shocked and surprised when suddenly I am old and start to wear purple.
Jenny Joseph


This poem spoke to me when I was an eleven year old goody-goody. I admired the idea of growing old disgracefully. Now it terrifies me.  My friends and I often look at each other and say, "You will tell me if I ever get like that, won't you?"  What if we all get 'like that'?

We are already at the stage where we moan about things. 'It wasn't like that in our day!' we say, in our beige waterfall cardigans.


How long will it be before we are phoning up the local school to complain about a child who dropped a lolly stick on the pavement?
Hopefully, never.
Some other things I hope to avoid are:
1. Saving crumbs in my chin hair
2. Being rude
3. Telling strangers that I'm not wearing any underwear
4. Giving concerts, playing really badly and thinking I'm good (I hope I don't do that already)
5. Stopping playing in the middle of a piece of music to turn the page (in a concert)
6 .Grabbing small children by the arm.
7.  Wearing a greying vest so that it shows under my concert dress.
8.  Getting everyone else to do things for me.
9.  Smelling terrible.
10. Only brushing the front of my hair.

Living with a strop-monster

Any parent will tell you that balancing your child's moods with your own can be extremely stressful at times.  You can guarantee your toddler will throw himself on the floor of the supermarket and kick and scream on the day when you have been up all night or your cat has just died.  The day when you are feeling on top of the world, dressed beautifully, with hair done and make up on is the day your toddler also behaves beautifully.  And that just isn't fair.  You could cope with anything on that day.


I'm sad to say, though, that it just doesn't get any better.  You always hope they will grow out of the 'phase' they are in and they do.  Unfortunately, it's just as you've worked out how to deal with that 'phase' and they move into something new, that you have absolutely no idea about.

Teenagers can be particularly tricky.  They start to have their own opinions and voice them.  If you argue with them they are always right (even when they're not) and even worse sometimes they are right and you end up looking stupid.  They have more stress in their lives (living out their teachers stressful targets) than anyone should have to cope with and they have hormones doing really weird things to their bodies.

A colleague told me today that her daughter once said to her, "I DO have hormones, you know!", to which my colleague snapped, "So do I!"  And although, it is possible to be sympathetic about a teenage girls hormones it can be quite difficult when you are rapidly approaching 50 and your hormones seem to be having a private party of their own.

This week I have 2 teenagers in the school play, one who is doing A levels and dealing with University offers or rejections.  That might be quite stressful but it's Christmas and I am a music teacher with no voice and a very sore throat.

With both children out my long suffering husband wondered what we might do with our evening.  It's quite sad but we settled on cleaning out a cupboard and tidying the bookshelf.  We know how to live!

Memory

I usually enjoy listening to radio 4 but today after a program about how beautiful women wear make up and ugly ones tend not to bother and another about signs of dementia I'm feeling quite depressed.

I think I have a good memory.  At school I always got my spellings, German vocab and times tables right in tests because I was able to learn long lists.  I can learn song words and remember all my pin numbers.  But lately I've begun to forget things.  When I couldn't find my keys my children suggested I look in the fridge!

A Facebook page has recently sprung up where people post memories of the town I grew up in.  Most of the posts seem to be from people my age.  It has been very interesting reading what people consider to be interesting memories to share with the world.  I'm keeping an eye on it just in case someone 'remembers' something extremely embarrassing about me and then I can delete it.  One strange thing has occurred though.  Someone has posted a photo of a school trip to the Lake District that I went on in Junior School.  They have named the people in the photo and there is only one name I recognise.  That person was my best friend in junior school but I can't even begin to decide which one she is.  I remember that I left my camera on top of Scafell Pike and was most upset because I'd taken a picture of a red squirrel.

The school stories have had me chuckling all day especially memories of the loveliest drama teacher in the world.  He was short, flabby and bald and resigned his job to become a woman.

Yesterday, I took my son to the orthodontist, who also seems to have had a sex change operation.  We were both quite shocked when a short, aggressive Chinese woman opened the door and called us in.  She said that things had improved a lot since the last time she saw him.  We didn't particularly agree as we thought she was much better looking as a tall, silver-haired man.

After the Facebook picture I wondered if I would recognise myself from that time.

The face is familiar but I definitely don't remember the shirt!

Stir up Sunday

It should be Stir up Saturday.  The day when you measure out the ingredients for your Christmas pudding and add alcohol (but not flour) and everyone stirs it and makes a wish.  The next day you add the flour and put it in the pudding basin and steam it. So if you stir up on Sunday you have to have Monday free to steam it.  Luckily, I do have time tomorrow.

Choosing the alcohol for the Christmas pudding is always tricky.  Delia suggests stout, rum and barley wine.  I didn't have any of those so I deviated from the recipe and used Cointreau and Brandy.  I don't like to change Delia recipes too much because they always work.

We all had a stir of the pudding and made a wish.  I know I'm getting old, or maybe it's the alcohol fumes but I can't remember what my wish was.

Please stop baking Mum

My family are fed up.  Literally 'fed' up.  They are full of cake, biscuits and pies.

They were stupid enough to buy me the Great British Bake Off cookbook for my birthday and then go on diets. I would be quite happy if they said they were only going to eat cake but they seem to think that fruit and vegetables  are the way to go.  What am I going to do with my weekends if I can't do a little bit of baking?

Today I tried the Chocolate Chilli Cake. It was quite an odd recipe because the mix looked like mousse and there seemed to be too much of it.  I'm not sure if I used a tin that was too small, didn't follow the recipe properly or if it wasn't quite right, as it burst over the top and burnt onto the bottom of the oven leaving a sunken top.

One day, I will bake a beautiful looking cake but not today.  It was much darker than the picture in the book but it tastes really nice.

The family can cut very thin slices too. I will be eating thicker slices and probably quite frequently.

The picture in the book must be wrong though.  How can a cake with 100g of 70% cocoa solid chocolate, 2 tablespoons of cocoa powder, a tablespoon of black treacle and muscavado sugar in it be so light?

What would you do for charity?

Huge charity events make people behave like nuts.  It must work too because there seem to be more and more of them.

I'm more of a consumer than a provider of charity event services.  Obviously, in 6th form and college I did Rag Week; dressed in Pyjamas and raced in a supermarket trolley and when I worked in a bank I dressed up in whatever we were told to wear; spots, ears, red noses. Now I tend to buy cakes that I don't want and are a bit ugly or burnt made by children with grubby hands. I confess to buying half a dozen yesterday and throwing 5 1/2  of them away.

I have never:

1. Dressed as a fury animal
2. Sat in a tub of baked beans
3. Shaved my hair off
4. Grown facial hair
5. Let the children at orchestra paint spots all over me with lipstick
6. Taken part in any running event (as a runner - I will be playing in the band for the annual Santa fun run)
7. Sang live on TV

The Plume school choir did sing live on TV for Children in Need and were brilliant.  Each region sang and they were all broadcast simultaneously.  It must have been a technical nightmare but Gareth Malone was on hand to wave his arms in the London studio so they all kept in time beautifully.  Unfortunately, our region wasn't shown in the main broadcast and it is clear that that was because it would have shown the others up.



I know their teachers and parents will be very proud of them.  I was just one proud parent who was only able to show my support by donating money to Children in Need.

Corpsing

I laugh a lot.  Even more so when I'm tired.  But laughing can be so unprofessional.

At band practice last night I had the giggles. There is something about playing an F when everyone else plays an F# that always sets me off.  Watch Tim Minchin's F sharp' if you don't know what I'm talking about. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UWtcSvtiQw  The evening started badly, when I tried to fix my clarinet with glue and only managed to stick my fingers together and my friend got her clarinet stuck in her scarf.  Luckily, I'm not in charge of the band and so laughing is allowed.  The problem is the conductor can't look at me because I might set her off and that would be unprofessional.

When playing for shows the band are put under the stage or right at the back and made to wear black so they can't be seen.  Famed for their ugliness, members of a pit orchestra should be heard and not seen. But it can be lonely and so the band often make their own entertainment.   Unprofessional giggling is part of that.  At the last show I did I was in charge of the keyboard to make the farting and burping sounds for the Shrek song. The band decided that the sound should be used when the comedian bent over.  It was very effective but the band were laughing so much it was hard to start the next song.  That's unprofessional giggling.

Today was a day for such unprofessional behaviour.  It's not professional for a music teacher to laugh so much at her pupils singing that tears stream down her face.  When these five year olds grow up they will be heard telling their friends that they can't sing and they know they can't because their music teacher laughed at them.  Honestly, though, I have never heard anything like it.  They were all singing confidently.  Unfortunately, not one child in the class was singing in time with any other child or in time with the music. One child repeatedly sang the word 'Shepherds' with an occasional 'Sheep' thrown in for good measure.  Several echoed the last few words.   Their enthusiasm could not be faulted.

The Name Game

In a class full of Jackies, Susans and Julies I was just one of the crowd.  Even the extra errrr at the end of my name didn't help much.  A girl in my class was called Holly and she was bubbly and vivacious and always seemed a bit different; like Christmas but it's such a common name now I wonder if a Holly feels like one of the crowd.  When we were expecting babies the long-suffering husband and I spent many hours thinking about and laughing about the names we could call our children.  Queeg was a particular favourite for a long time!  At the remembrance service the Senior school wreath was laid by a girl called Poppy.  I don't expect her parents thought they would be letting her in for a lifetime of wreath-laying when they named her.

I've often wondered if your name defines who you are.  Many cultures believe so and wouldn't dream of naming a baby without consulting a numerologist.  The full name you are given at birth is meant to give you a number that is your destiny number.  Give each letter a number A-I, J-R,S-Z = 1-9.  Then you add up the numbers until you get a single digit.  My destiny number is 1, which makes me a leader and anyone who knows me will know how accurate that is. (Heavy sarcasm).

On the radio this morning I heard about a man who was in court today on charges of abduction and child sex offences.  This story wouldn't normally have made the national news but this man's name was Michael Jackson.

You are what you read

Reading is a passion of mine.  I just can't stop doing it.  I'm one of the few parents who reads every letter and e-mail that arrives from school. I read the whole of my twitter and Facebook feed and am always surprised when people ask me how I knew that (when they'd put it on Facebook the previous evening) When I first went to college I astounded my new found friends by announcing that Weetabix was made in Welwyn Garden City. (Yes, I read cereal boxes!)

But, I also know that I am unusual.  Most people don't, can't or won't read signs.

At the swimming pool today I watched 3 people press buttons for the shower, under a sign that said, "These showers are not currently working.  An engineer has been called.  We apologise for the inconvenience."
On the door of the sauna the sign stated that the top shelf was unsafe to sit on and in the sauna a rather large man was sitting on the top shelf on top of the warning stickers.  When I came in he said that he saw me reading the sign and asked if I could tell him what it said as he didn't have his glasses.  Keeping a straight face was tricky.  I only wish I had come in a little while later and seen his legs sticking out of the hole he had fallen through.

On the radio today someone mentioned having seen this sign:


It says it all really.

The Battle of Maldon

Children who grow up in this town are so lucky.  Their primary school history consists of blood, gore, Vikings, Saxons and a very tall man who lost his head in battle.  I grew up in Billericay and all we had was the Mayflower Ship and the Pilgrims.  I went to a school called Mayflower and drank in the Pilgrim, though so maybe it wasn't all bad.

Today, I watched 90 children and their teachers re-enact the Battle of Maldon. The Saxons sang; "We are Saxons We are Saxons Vikings Go Home We are Saxons."  (To the tune of Yo Heave Ho) and the Vikings were just very noisy and quite scary.  They advanced on each other and finally Brythnoth was killed and the Saxons lost. Brythnoth had a very high pitched cry when he was killed and as his beard was slightly wonky I suspect he may have actually been a woman.

The only problem with this re-enactment is that no self-respecting Viking would go pillaging in November because it was rather chilly.

When I got home I decided to make the Sticky Walnut Tart from the GBBO book (800 calories per slice!!!!) but I needed something to help me warm up.

Remembrance

You shouldn't laugh at a remembrance service but there is usually something really funny.  It might be the Mayor's accent, or a child in the crowd saying something strange but today it was when the choir filed out of the church to stand next to the band and the chap in front banged his large cross on the bus stop.


But I have never been to a remembrance service that has affected me as deeply as today's did.  A man, in jeans and a crumpled military style jacket stood near me.  He was holding a wooden cross with a poppy and a florists card behind his back.  In his jacket pocket was a bottle of Jameson's Whiskey.  He stood to attention throughout the silence, with tears in his eyes.  Then he joined in to recite the following poem with passion.
"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning,

We will remember them.

You are forever in our thoughts, we are forever in your debt."

When the service was at an end he walked to the memorial and found a slightly more private place at the back.  He knelt down and placed his cross in a plant pot.  From his pocket he took the Whiskey and a glass.  He poured himself a drink and then he poured another, which his poured into the plant pot.  

Here was a man who needed this day.  Who knows what his personal story is.  He may have lost a brother, father or he may have been in a conflict himself and bear scars deeper than any of us can imagine but at least he was able to share a drink today.

Saxology

I would be a terrible music critic.  Like most musicians I have a love-hate relationship with going to concerts.  I either want to be playing or am overly critical and irritable.  I know that listening to live music is really important but if I'm honest a lot of classical music can be a bit dull unless you are actually part of it.



Tonight's Saxology concert was not dull though.  How lucky are we to have such a talented bunch of musicians in our town?  And they have a sense of humour too! They play Bach like it's rock music and Gershwin as though it's the most serious music.  Although, I have seen  the 3 members of the group walk out of the concert leaving one on stage to sulk and improvise until the others decide to join him again several times it always amuses me.  It also takes some confidence to admit that you are not playing one piece on the program because one person forgot to bring the music and to announce that the first piece was The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba and that she was in a bit of a hurry tonight.

Even though it was a brilliant concert I still found that I was easily distracted.  They played a new piece by a living composer who was in the audience.  I spent the whole piece watching the man at the front, who I thought was the aforementioned composer.  I was quite surprised that he seemed to be dozing during his own composition and then at the end the really nice man next to me who had been recording the piece on his phone stood up for the applause.  I assume he was actually the composer.  I also found myself noticing what fantastic legs the soprano sax player had and how beautiful the flower arrangement in the church was.

My favourite part of a concert is often the interval as I like to stand quietly and listen to other people's conversations but there were no funny lines tonight.  Everyone was full of praise. My favourite quote came from my son, who said, "You can never get bored of saxophones"

Things that go bump in the night

Do you believe in ghosts?  I'm not sure.  I wouldn't rule it out and like most people strange things have happened that might be easier to explain by saying it's a paranormal phenomenon.

When I was younger I used to cycle to Ingatestone and would go to the gates of the Hall, where I thought I saw 2 big black dogs.  When we visited it later in the year I asked the woman about the dogs and she said they didn't have any dogs.  Could they have been ghosts?


I certainly believe that places retain the energy of strong emotions that have happened there, you can certainly feel grief at Tyne Cot cemetery and all theatres hold a feeling of excitement and anticipation.  But is that energy a ghost?


Imaginary friends?  I had an imaginary friend called Baby Cumby but I can't really recall what it was all about. When my daughter was about 3 she had a succession of imaginary friends.  They would appear for a while and when they annoyed her she'd ask them to leave.  She would be able to tell me details of where they were from. I remember a girl from New Zealand, a boy from Germany and an old lady from New York.  She could name street names of the places her 'friends' were from and Aileen (93 from New York) would help her 'make' our imaginary breakfast - corn and grits!  She insisted that her longest lasting friend was my grandmother.  She called her Tiggy Lamb (not my grandmother's name) and she would tell my dad that Tiggy Lamb was disappointed at how messy his shed was and how he needed to clean it up.  One day she sighed and said, "Tiggy Lamb is in the garden again eating the rhubarb!"  When I expressed surprise she said, "Well, it keeps you regular" A vivid imagination or maybe ghosts?

When my dad had a heart op he says he saw his dead relatives sitting on the end of the bed.  A reaction to anaesthetic or ghosts waiting for him to join them?

The church the youth orchestra rehearses in is probably haunted.  When you are in there on your own you hear all kinds of bumps and strange sounds, particularly from the organ pipes.  Sometimes you hear the organ playing (and then you realise that the church organist has let herself in through the back door and crept up the stairs to practice.)


There is another explanation, though.  I could just be bonkers!

I sing like Adele

Teaching 4 year olds is such a joy.  They are so funny and cute.  Today we were learning a song about Shepherds for the thing that's coming up soon, that we're not allowed to mention.  I asked if they knew who looked after sheep and they were unanimous in their answer - Little Bow Peep.

Then we got round to talking about what a manger was and why there was a baby in it.  Most of them thought a manger was a song, "because my Nanny sings it to me."  The Grandmothers of this particular group of children are really quite amazing.  They seem to read to them, sing to them, pick them up from school and make their tea. I would like my children to know now that I do not plan to mother their children and that if they have them, they can look after them, although it goes without saying that I will sing to them.

We started with a warm up and sang baa baa black sheep in lots of different voices.  When we sang with a sheep's voice the little boy next to me said, "when you sing like that you sound just like Adele"



Then we added actions to the song to help us remember the words.  I always ask the children what actions they'd like to do and was a bit confused when one little girl said we could rub our eyes when we sang Jesus Christ.  It turns out she thought the song said Jesus Cried.

Wednesday Night is Music Night.

What a treat choir was tonight.  We had a master-class from the organisers of the Big Sing, who are in the LCGC.  They have so much talent and energy it was really exciting to be part of.  The keyboard player is a genius - a level of playing I would love to achieve but know is impossible.

During band the subject of concert disasters came up.  Someone had read about a woman who got their piccolo stuck in their hair during a concert and everyone seemed to think that was something that could happen to me.  I have NEVER got my piccolo stuck in my hair (yet).  I have got my flute stuck on my jumper, though.  Tripping is a common problem when coming onto stage - especially if you are wearing a long skirt and high heels.  I am a little big concerned about the Big Sing because in a Gospel choir you are not allowed to be still and I can see disaster looming if I have to sway, click and sing!  At the Royal Albert Hall on Sunday my lack of ability to shimmy was noted.  I knew that as soon as the subject turned to concert disasters my legendary falling through a hole in the stage would be discussed.  It was at a show for a local AmDram group and I was in the band.  We sat at the back of the stage and it was all going really well until the opening of the final show.  The MD had just sent a message that we were ready as I slowly bagan to sink.  I couldn't quite work out what was going on but my legs were heading towards the roof and my head towards the floor.  Obviously, I couldn't let go of my flute and there was panic and hysterics in the rest of the band as they struggled to hold onto my arms and legs to pull me up again before the curtains were fully open.  Flashing your knickers at the audience isn't a good thing for a member of the band to do.

My chair leg had fallen down this hole.  Luckily, I didn't have to play in the first piece as it is almost impossible to blow a flute when you are laughing.

Who was Albert Hall, anyway?

Questions that are asked on a school trip can be intelligent, amusing, irritating or just plain stupid.

The irritating include, "Are we there yet?", "Can I go to the toilet?" and "What's the time?"  These can quite easily tip into the stupid category depending on timing.  For example, "Are we there yet?" before the coach has pulled out of the school road.

I am probably the meanest teacher alive, as my rule of not leaving the stage during a performance (even if you really really need to pee) was enforced even for the pupils who had begun to dance.  "What would you think if you went to see Robbie Williams or Lady Gaga in concert and they said, 'sorry guys, back in a moment, I just need to go to the toilet.'?"

On one journey home from the Royal Albert Hall the questions from one child had all the staff in hysterics.  Every question began with the phrase, "You know such and such" and unfortunately the such and such often wasn't very clear.
Child:      You know the stars?
Staff:       What stars?
Child:      The stars in London?
Staff:      The famous stars?
Child:     Yes, the famous stars.  Well, can you see them at home?
Staff:      We see them on the TV but you might see them in person at the Royal Albert Hall
Child:     Oh, I've never seen any on TV
Staff:      Haven't you?  Who is your favourite star then?
Child:    I like them all
Staff:     All of them?
Child:    Yes, they're so pretty
Staff:     Pretty?  Even the men?
Child:   I didn't know there were men
Staff:    Oh, do you mean the stars in the sky?
Child:    Uh Huh.  You know the cats?
Staff:    (wiser this time)  What cats?
Child:   The ones in the road
Staff:     I can't see any cats in the road
Child:   Nor can I.  Where are they?
Staff:    Probably at home
Child:   That's a bit dangerous.
Staff:    Why?
Child:    They stop you having accidents.
Staff:     Oh, you mean cats eyes.  They're not real cats.
Child:    Aren't they?  You know that clock, Little Billy?



Yesterday's trip to the Royal Albert Hall wasn't quite as entertaining but there were some excellent questions being asked.  I was really proud of my choir as they asked the band brilliant questions like, "Why is your saxophone bigger than normal?  Is it lower?"



My favourite question of the day was,  "Who was Albert Hall, anyway?"  When I explained about Queen Victoria and her husband and how the hall was built as a tribute to him, as was the gold statue across the road.  Someone said, "Cor, he was big wasn't he."


I had a fantastic day yesterday but I am hoping that I won't keep counting to 34 in my sleep tonight.  My daughter watched the concert and commented that all I seemed to do was count the children - it must have become a habit by then.