In few hours time, darkness will fall across the United States, plunging many into panic and others into exultant displays of worship.
Of course, there are those that would argue this happened back in January and the Apocalyptic parasites have been slowly devouring the land ever since. Yet, I refer not to the mere mortals that consider themselves gods, but to the true celestial powerhouse; the Sun!
Crackers. Bonkers. Eccentric. Weird. Odd. Quirky. Mad as a box of frogs…
All terms used for someone who is a little bit strange, several having been used to describe Yours Truly over the years. Often by my mother…
And I’m fine with that. I’ve always rather liked being slightly off-centre to Ordinary, even using it for ‘My Banana Cray-Cray’ post to introduce myself to the Blogosphere when I first started this site.
But now I’ve started doing things that even I find a little bizarre. Am I going mad? You tell me…
This post is from almost two years ago but I was reminded of it this week when out on a very soggy school trip in British ‘summertime’ to the local farm. One of the children, who is five, wanted to keep us entertained on the bus ride and was asking us for our favourite Lady Gaga and Little Mix songs so he could sing them. I’m not sure he meant to be so amusing whilst he was singing ‘It’s my POKER SPACE, my, my POKER SPACE’ and ‘Shout out to my EGGS’ at the top of his voice!!
So, for Throwback Thursday, here are some little gems collected from my teaching career – please add any quality additions from our younger generations in the comments!
Okay, so teachers all strive to assist children in achieving those lightbulb moments, wanting to hear the little cries of discovery and realisation of a concept or skill. However, getting there is generally a journey of constant repetition, hair pulling (of the teachers, not the kids!) and often downright hilarity!
I hadn’t intended on this being my blog post today but yesterday a child delivered an utterly fabulous one liner (actually one ‘worder’) in a response to a question, that I felt it needed sharing. Let’s face it, children say the weirdest / funniest / most random of things, that to them probably seem completely plausible based on their short experience of the world. Some ideas are sweet, others slightly misconstrued information. And then there are the ROFL-copter worthy answers that eventually turn your tears of laughter to tears of despair when it dawns on you that you’re the one who’s been educating this child, so clearly you’ve not been doing your job properly!
Like many people, I love a good bridge. I’d like to give some poetic reason, such as they’re symbolic of links between points in our life journey, but the simple truth is I just find them structurally appealing. Strong architectural lines with the added bonus of generally being near another personal favourite, water.
I’m lucky enough to live very close to the Humber Bridge, once the longest single-span suspension bridge in the world. Its arrival in the early 1980s put it firmly on the map as an iconic local landmark, for many, a comforting signal of home as it looms on the horizon after a long trip.
Seeing as I’m also a big fan of classical music, it was a given that I wanted to get tickets when the City of Culture team announced an event in conjunction with Opera North to walk the bridge to a unique, specially composed soundtrack: The Height of the Reeds.
Unfortunately, as tickets were free, they went swiftly and I lost out. Then, hurrah! They announced it had been so popular they were extending the run and this time I was in, albeit alone as we could only get hold of one ticket.
So yesterday, amidst the extraordinary heat we’re experiencing at the moment in the UK, I set off for a 5K trundle.
The simple Car Boot (or if you are in the US, the trunk); an area of your vehicle used for transporting suitcases and groceries, housing spare wheels and dirty kitbags. And if you’re lacking in seat space whilst trying to drive to that all important party, perhaps a small, willing friend might be found in there too (it has happened…).
However, to many here in Old Blighty, the noun for this humble storage space has been verbed-up into a national institution, with us spending weekends ‘booting’ as ‘booters’ and…um…’bootees’…
In America, it seems everyone loves a yard sale, a chance to offload some unwanted items and make a few extra bucks from the comfort of your own home, without having to wait for the eBay auction to end.
But us Brits would generally balk at the idea of inviting some random shoppers round to traipse through the prize petunias and churn up the freshly-cut lawn. Besides, one does not want the neighbours to see what type of tat we’ve had stashed in the attic!
So instead, we fill our car boots with precision that would make even a world-champion Tetris player envious, and trundle off to a nearby playing field before the sun comes up to do battle with…
The Bargain Hunter Horde!