School Music Camp

Well last weekend saw me, 9 other teachers and 40 odd kids off to Music Camp at an outdoor education centre near Tunbridge Wells, Kent.  The centre has to remain unnamed because one of the students googled it and came up with this blog...

First of all I would like to say that it was a real success, the kids totally enjoyed themselves and made some good progress musically. The staff were top quality, and I absolutely could not have done without them - particularly as I myself was still not well.

In fact, two days before the camp was due to start, I was out carolling with Sutton Salvos in Wimbledon for the turning on of the lights for St Raphael's Hospice. It was pretty cold, and there were only 4 of us there, battling the elements - and I was the only tuba. You try playing tuba with a cold! I could only manage a breath span of 2 or 3 notes - made for real legato playing, I'll tell you - NOT! Anyway, as we get to the end of the last carol, I'm still hacking up a lung, and I start to feel a bit of a stitch developing in my side.

The next morning (the day before the camp) the stitch was absolutely UNBEARABLE! Complete and utter agony. I made it into school but realised pretty quick that I just could not stay - and in fact needed to go to Accident and Emergency at King's College Hospital. So the school called a cab for me and off I went - only to discover that I have sprained my intercostal muscles from coughing. Sprained ribs! Seriously... you wouldn't read about it...

So the doctor signs me off for the next few days - no camp for me. But I'm the lead teacher on the camp - not very likely that I'll be able to take the time off....

Thursday (the day of the camp) came, and I dutifully phone into school to explain my situation, and both the deputy head and my line manager put the hard word on me! No, you need to go to the camp.... I tried to explain that I would go down on Friday (thinking maybe I would go Friday afternoon / evening) but they reckoned that I wouldn't be able to drive down (I would be in too much pain), that I wouldn't be able to manage my luggage on the train (yeah right) and that if I go down today with the kids I could just go straight to bed. Yeah, as if. Like I'm going to get quality sleep in a room off a corridor full of excited kids on their first night of camp! But they kept it up, put the hard word on - pressure pressure pressure - seriously, what planet are these people from? So of course I felt obligated to go and went.

What a stupid move that was. I tried to go straight to bed but the kids made such a racket, who could sleep? And also, the weather was sooo cold - so everytime I went out into that good, clean, cold, country air, I would have a coughing fit of the highest proportions - just what sprained ribs need!

For the next few days I tried to take every opportunity I could do get some rest, but I was having to conduct the concert band, and help supervise kids, yada yada - and all the while, really they didn't need me there anyway. There were enough music teachers there that they would've covered the band if I'd asked, and to be fair, the staff were really supportive and tried to make sure I really didn't have to do too much anyway. I would love to say I had a great time but to be honest, I was in excruciating pain pretty much the whole time - and I'm afraid I took it out on my poor colleague Erik, who had done such an amazing job organising the whole thing. He really was amazing, and I am deeply indebted to him for the success of the camp.

Anyway, I survived, the camp was enjoyed by the kids, the concert was ok... but I've spent the last 3 days paying for it! I went into school on Monday in excruciating pain and so many people came up and asked me what on earth I was doing at school! Finally the Deputy Head saw me and told me to go home and stay there until I get better (should've let me do that last weekend, eh?) so I went home and went promptly to the doctor. This time I begged him to give me antibiotics, or something other than ibuprofen (like ibuprofen actually works! As if...) and finally he gave me Amoxicillin - although as he was writing out the script he told me actually not to take it! (Why write the script then?). This is because he says that my infection is viral, not bacterial. Anyway, I've now been off school for 3 days, unable to do anything other than lie still in bed... (although I still had to go to school tonight for a concert - it never ends here at CEBS). I still don't really feel like I'm getting better and my ribs are seriously killing me! And I have to move out this weekend - when (and how?) am I going to get the chance to pack? When am I actually going to be well enough to pack? I seriously can't lift anything...

So I feel pretty low at the moment, and pretty sick of being SICK!

An Open Letter to the Fat, Balding, Drunken British Yob in Brugges

Dear Mr Fat, Balding, Drunken British Yob we met in Brugges,

Yes you.  Thank you for reinforcing my belief that British tourists when abroad are complete and utter twats.

We met you at the restaurant on the square in Brugges on Saturday night.  You and your simpleton family were on about their 4th or 5th bottle of wine when we arrived.  You particularly were being loud mouthed and noisy, but hey - we made our way to our table and ignored you.  Well, we managed to until I needed to go to the toilet.  I got up to go and you first of all insulted me by calling me a boy, and second of all insinuated that I was a paedophile as you expressed your concern about what I might exactly do with your roly poly lump of a son, who it seemed also needed to go.  The apple doesn't fall far from the tree on that one, now does it?

Then when I returned to my table you loudly wondered again what I had done with the git.  To the consternation of the whole restaurant, looking down into their meals out of embarrassment for yet another 'Brit Abroad'.

And then, when it was time for us to go, you again made some loud, obnoxious comment about me and your butt-ugly offspring, which this time received uproarious laughter from your inebriated simpleton family.

But the final straw was the Inspector Gadget reference you made when I put on my coat.  Now that was real wit, wasn't it?

So I would just like to say to you, congratulations, you spoiled my weekend in Brugges, and reinforced for me two things - first of all, that Brits abroad can be total yobs, and second of all - that every day I wake up and thank God that I'M NOT BRITISH!!!!

Jane's Birthday Bash in Brugges

So next weekend is Jane's birthday, and in honour of the event, we went to Brugges this weekend to check out the Christmas markets. The weekend though didn't get off to a particularly good start. This was because it was seriously thunder storming on Friday night. I am still fighting this blasted cold and had made my way home via the doctor's surgery - yes, it has been confirmed, I have a viral infection, and no, they won't give me antibiotics, the blighters!. Anyway, I was walking up the road from the doctor's when the heavens absolutely erupted. In the space of 200m my jeans were absolutely soaked. But the worst of it was when I got home. I arrived to a completely dark house - unusual I thought, maybe the girls have gone out - but when I got inside I discovered they actually were home, sitting around a torch trying to eat dinner. The power had gone out. Some berk, when installing the garden lights, thought it sensible to link them to the house lights - so when the garden lights get soaking wet, the house lights go off too. But do you think we could get the power back on again? Absolutely not. And I needed power to dry off my jeans for tomorrow! In the end Dave, the landlord, had to come around and sort it out. We were a bit dubious about that, knowing his handyman skills (somewhat like Tim the Toolman Taylor) however we were lucky on this occasion and he ultimately got the power back on by isolating the fuse that the outdoor lights were on. Murphy's law though, would have it that it was the same switch as the lights to my room. Absolute bummer. So although I could power up peripherals like TVs and computers, I couldn't light my room except for candles. Fortunately though my jeans dried, and in time for the trip the next morning. Jane's friend Sharon had stayed the night, she was coming on the trip too, so we all set off fairly early in the morning and made our way down to Eurotunnel. After a fairly uneventful crossing, we headed off to Cite Europe for a spot of shopping as we weren't sure if it would be open the next day, Sunday, on our way back. We found out though that it would - it's December after all - so moseyed on around the shops for a few hours. The weather had been gorgeous leaving England, but unusually was overcast and grey when we arrived in France. This then turned into full on thunderstorms with heavy rain by the time we started to make our way to Belgium. It was quite late at night when we finally arrived at the Formule 1 in Zeebrugge, so we quickly dumped our stuff and drove into Brugges. It was absolutely pinging it down as we wandered around the remnants of the christmas market (including the giant 'swimming pool' that was the ice skating rink - devoid of skaters in this weather though) and then we went for dinner. More on that in another post. Made our way back to the hotel, and headed off for bed. The next day we went back into town and this time all the stalls of the Christmas markets were open. We spent a lovely few hours sampling waffles, hot chocolate, hotdogs etc as we wandered around the markets. I got some really nice Belgian chocolate too. Then the rain returned much more heavily so we packed up and headed back to Calais. Bit more shopping there, then off to Eurotunnel, then home. It was a very enjoyable weekend, very cheap price too when we split the price between us all! Alas, now back to school....

10...9...8...7...

Yes, 7 days to go til we take the girls from school on our 2nd ever Music camp, to the Bowles Outdoor Education Centre in Tunbridge Wells. We had an amazing time last year and I'm really looking forward to it, but I have to say I am quite a bit frustrated. This is because of all the narrowmindedness I've had to deal with of some people. Seriously, the camp is costing an awful lot of money, and most of it is being paid for by the school. All we're asking is a small contribution from the parents, and we're funding the rest - but still after signing the forms to say the kids can come, some parents are now turning around and saying they can't afford it, so they won't let their kids go - after we've paid the money already for the camp and are not able to get a refund. Fortunately many of them change their tune when I tell them they'll have to pay the full amount if their daughters don't go on the camp... but it has been a very wearing day and I've been on the phone to so many of them! I appreciate Christmas is coming, but seriously! They're getting 4 days full board, outdoor activities, musical activities, transport - for £50! (cost to the school = £250!). Oy ve... not to mention that the parents who have been 'crying poor' are also the ones who provide new Nike shoes, the latest mobile phones, designer labels for their kids. Ok I appreciate that maybe they're brand copies, but it just goes to show where their priorities are... kids education... or latest gadgets... Anyway, looks like I've hopefully sorted most of it out, rock on next weekend!

It's Not Easy Being Green

Don't be alarmed. This is not going to be a post about global warming or the environmental agenda. Or even about Kermit the Frog.

I'm am absolutely sick to death of being sick!

I came down with a bit of a cold last Wednesday, which got progressively worse as the weekend approached.  Suffice to say spending an afternoon in the rain at the Boot Sale didn't help things either!

So I ended up having to have 2 days off school, Monday and Tuesday, and actually had to spend those days in bed.  Now normally if I'm sick, I'll sleep for a couple of hours, but then be able to potter about the house.  Not this time, I just could not get out of bed.  It was awful.  But the worst thing was, I wasn't getting any better.  Hacking up a lung, runny nose, fever - awful.

Then yesterday I had to go to Manchester for Inset (in-service training).  I had to take a 2 hour train journey there, leaving the house at 6am - this is no mean feat when you are not well.  Anyway, I was on the train, minding my own business, but then suddenly I got an attack of the killer coughs, and had to pack up my stuff (I had been doing some editing on my laptop) and go hack up my lung in the corridor.  It was awful.

No better once I arrived either.  Nor on the journey back... 

And I had to go to school today, I can't afford any more time off (and also it was parent night tonight).  I don't know when I'm going to get better, but I wish it would be soon... it's not easy being green...

Battered, Bruised And Beaten At Battersea Boot Sale

Today I endured one of those quintessentially English experiences. You know the ones I mean, like queuing for the bus in the rain only to watch the bus sail past as it is already too crowded to take on any new passengers, or enjoying the smelly armpits on a crowded Tube on a Summer's afternoon...  stuff like that. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, today I was initiated into the phenomenon that is the Car Boot Sale.

And oh boy, was I underprepared for the onslaught that ensued. I had been to a boot sale before, in fact I went to one with Mal and Ken when I first arrived, and I had also been to several computer fairs with them, so I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. Oh boy was I wrong.

Before I can go into all the gory details, I'd best give some background to the decision to actually participate in a boot sale. You see, Nicole is moving home and Jane has found somewhere cheaper to live, so from 25th December I am officially homeless, as I didn't want to have the responsibility of trying to find new housemates when I would be in Australia anyway. They would move in whilst I was away, and I would be more than a bit worried about strangers in my house around my stuff, if you know what I mean. Plus its really expensive at our place anyway, so it's time I found somewhere cheaper. Of course, this means downsizing - as prior to Le Villa Wavertree, I had lived by myself in Chateau La Hackbridge, thus necessitating purchases of furniture, cooking utensils etc, and therefore accruing a whole load of STUFF. In order to live more cheaply I'm going to need to move into a shared house, hopefully already set up with this stuff, so it's time to get rid of a lot of it. It's sure not going to fit into a small room.

The UK is not as set up as Oz with regards to the Trading Post. Sure, they have their 'Loot' magazine - but there's a lot of whackos out there and I wouldn't feel comfortable about them coming over and looking at my furniture. Then there's the 'Gumtree' - clientele mostly Aussies and Kiwis - well I put some stuff on there, but no joy. So that left the last resort, the Pommy version of the garage sale - the car boot sale.

Now these mostly take place on a Sunday (I think there may be some on a Saturday though), usually in school car parks and other buildings / open lots which are not used on the weekend. Jane did all the leg work and phoned up the one at Battersea Technical College, which is apparently a very good one, and we got ourselves a plot booked for Sunday 11th, at a cost of £12. They told us to arrive at 12.45pm and the sale would open at 1pm. I was a bit skeptical, as it would only give us 15 minutes to set up, but went along with it, because we didn't exactly have any other options, now did we.

Well as I said before, it's been some time since I've been to a boot sale, and as Jane and I both had things to sell, I thought it best if we price up our items with coloured post it notes. I kind of envisaged the two of us sitting happily on a couple of chair behind a table, people casually strolling by, looking at our merchandise, negotiating the price with us - and we would calmly write on the post-it the new price, stick the post-it in a container with the money and later on work out how much we each made. Pretty good idea, I thought.

Sunday approached and the weather looked grim. This was not aided by the fact that I have been suffering for several days now with a heavy duty cold - laryngitis, sniffles, sinusitis, and a huge hacking cough. So I wasn't feeling the best about the boot sale, but it's the only weekend we can do it, so we loaded up the car and set off. Nicole had given me a little warning beforehand - she said that we would do the most selling within the first 10 minutes and that it would be to other stall holders, as they would scout around to see what they could get cheap and mark up for their own stall. She also said they'd probably swamp us as we were setting up. Ok, I thought, I can handle that.

Oh no we couldn't. We pulled up to our alloted spot, got out the car, and the minions descended upon us like vultures on a rotting carcass. I hadn't even made it to the boot before some guy was screaming at me "Any mobile phones? Any mobile phones? Any Playstation?". "Go ask her" I said, indicating Jane, as I knew she had some. So I opened the boot to start unloading, and no joke, people started pulling things out of my car and looking at them. They were screaming for the TV, for the computer monitor, for mobile phones, for Jane's computer (she was offloading her old Mac), and they were pushing and shoving, and I was being pushed away from the car. And that's when it got nasty.

Picture this: Jane is over by the passenger door, swamped by people bidding on her computer, playstation, you name it - I'm trying to unload the boot, being pushed away by people scrambling to see what we have - one guy takes out Jane's sky tv box, another the computer monitor - I'm trying to keep an eye on them - then I see one guy's got my old camcorder and asking the price for that. He wasn't keen on the price I gave him, so he put it on top of one of the boxes I'd unloaded. Someone else is now crowding around looking at my garden chairs, I'm trying to keep an eye on everything, people are shouting, screaming, pushing - and then one bloke asks me if the guy had paid for my camcorder. What guy? Yep, you guessed it, some guy walked off with my camcorder. "He's just over there," the other guy says. "Where?" I hadn't even seen him, and I was off wandering around. But of course, I never saw him. The blighter walked off with a perfectly good Canon camcorder which originally cost me £300. And I had committed the cardinal sin - I had left my post - so Jane couldn't handle all the people crowding us as I was looking for my camera. I lost my Star Wars electronic game (a real collector's item), my computer speakers and my camcorder.

The afternoon was therefore wrecked for me. My top selling items had been nicked, and no-one was interested in my coffee table, or my dining table, or even my external modem. Jane made a real killing, she sold her playstation, a TV, her mac, her video recorder, her DVD, mobile phones, DVDs... you name it, if she had it, it went. Fairly. Not nicked.

Me, I managed to offload a little bit of stuff, but not all that much. Coupla books, coupla CDs, coupla DVDs, but that's about all. One bloke, looking through my CDs, asked if I had any Jazz. "Sure, here's some Herbie Hancock," I replied, showing him the disk. "Never heard of him" was the response. He only wanted - get this - Kenny G! That's the guy's extent of jazz knowledge! Oy ve. Meanwhile, Jane, being somewhat obscure in musical and movie taste (compared to mine) - managed to offload a whole heap more than me. Just goes to show you what sort of people go to these boot sales... either that, or I should worry about my taste in music...

I was feeling pretty low about the whole thing, and about the only saving grace was that Agnieszka had been in the neighbourhood, popped in to see us and plugged us with fresh, steaming hot coffee (oh and a yummy muffin!). Very welcome on such a cold, miserable, overcast afternoon. We'd been there about 2 hours when the heavens, which had been threatening for so long, finally opened up, so we cut our losses (again, mostly mine), packed up and headed home.

Final tally: Jane, most things sold, only 1 thing nicked (a hat) =£400+ after costs. Me, most things unsold, several things nicked (worth £300+) = £70 after costs.

In the words of Queen Victoria - WE ARE NOT AMUSED!!

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

I just love winter in London. Oh I know, it's cold, gloomy, gets dark ridiculously early and rains a lot - but there's such a charm about the city when its a cold, dark night, wandering around the brightly lit up shops, seeing the Christmas shoppers scurrying past with their purchases, anxious to get indoors and out of the cold. That's when all those old carols about 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire', or 'city sidewalks dressed in holiday style',all 'in the bleak midwinter' - that's when they make sense. And there really were street vendors roasting chestnuts - yum! Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't actually like to spend the whole of Christmas here (I mean, I have done that, but Christmas is for family, which is why I will always go home for it), however there is still a certain magic in the air when wandering the stores of London at Christmastime.

This was brought home to me tonight, as I found myself driving along the beautifully lit King's Road en route to the lovely Knightsbridge. This trip was made in honour of a certain new niece, as I was making my way up to a certain exclusive Department Store to procure that most elusive of gifts an Aunty living in London should give her gorgeous new niece - a 'My First Harrods Bear'.
Now can I just say, these things have been sold out for months! I've been trying to get one ever since I knew young Bethany was on her way - phoning up to see if they're in stock, each time being told they're still sold out. Finally, today, when I phoned up - they informed me there was ONLY ONE left. They reluctantly agreed to put it away for me on the proviso that I picked it up before close of sale today - 8pm. So, I drop everything, jump in the car (its too cold for the bus, honestly) and rush off to Harrods.

Finding a place to park in Knightsbridge is no mean feat. Normally I park at the Brompton Oratory (albeit illegally), as the Traffic Hitlers don't seem to check there - but tonight it was full. Fortunately Holy Trinity Brompton church came to the rescue, and I parked quite happily in their grounds before making the actually very pleasant short stroll in 6 degree temperatures up to Harrods. Oh my, the Christmas lights and the storefront decorations on Brompton Road just took my breath away!

But it was the decorations in Harrods itself that won the prize. Gorgeous storefront decorations, glorious Christmas scenes, expensive jewellery draped everywhere glittering like tinsel, - oh it was beautiful. Wandering around the store, with the glamorous decorations, was like walking in a winter wonderland. And the price! Way above my budget, I can tell you.... Not to mention the wonderful food in their food halls - rich Christmas puddings, chocolates to die for, and the entrancing smells of the Harrods Christmas coffee (a personal favourite of mine). Then there was their 'regular' items. Amethyst stone carvings at £900, a mammoth tusk for £2000 - an 'Armani Junior' t-shirt (T-SHIRT, I TELL YOU) for £70 - oh the lifestyles of the rich and famous... oh to have that sort of money...

About the only thing I could actually afford was my Bethany's bear... and some Wensleydale cheese for Mum... oh and some Krispy Kreme donuts coupled with a Starbucks Eggnog latte... not a bad evening's shopping after all...

If It's Summer in Australia, It Must Be....

I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here! Yay, my favourite show is back! And with some weirdo "celebs" too... I put 'celebs' in inverted commas because, other than Cerys Matthews, Janice Dickinson and Katie Hopkins, I had never ever heard of ANY of them! Since when does a football pundit or a PR guru constitute a celebrity? But either way, it's the best in reality tv, so BRING IT ON! For more info, check out: I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here!

'Allo 'Allo

Last Saturday, on a not so fine day, 13 ladies from Sutton Salvation Army took the plunge, jumped in 3 cars, and ventured into the great unknown which is the Eurotunnel. Yes, it was the Sutton SA Ladies Day Trip to France... And what a day it was! Ridiculously early start (due to the proximity (or lack thereof) of Sutton to Folkestone) - we met at the Hall at 7.45am with the intention of setting off at 8.00am. And we very nearly did it too, except me being the natural born teacher I am, at the last minute announced, "Now we all have our passports, don't we?" to discover that 2 of our number did not. Fortunately they live very close to the Hall, so it was a quick dash home and then off we went. We made good time down to Folkestone too, just under an hour and a half, and we raced into the terminal for a quick cuppa. It was at this point that one of the ladies (of the forgotten passport fame) discovered that her passport had expired some 11 months earlier! Oh no... Fortunately we had a chat with the Eurotunnel people, and apparently this is a common occurence. They thought that the customs people either wouldn't notice the date in her passport, or wouldn't care about it - so we crossed our fingers and decided to go for it. Some security hey, she made it. And actually the only car that had any sort of delay with passports, well, was mine - with the only non EU passport (that would be mine too). I encountered a bit of questioning by the Pommy customs dude upon re-entry to the UK. Anyway, I digress. We got our train to Calais, but unfortunately got split up, and were all in 3 separate carriages (although Ira and I were in adjacent ones, but Vanessa was in the same carriage as us but on the underneath level). I thought this would pose problems upon exit at Calais, but amazingly, Vanessa came out of the train and pretty much the exact time we did, so we travelled in convoy to Wissant for a spot of lunch. Now I was only in Wissant a few weeks ago, but the change was amazing. There's been a lot of rain by the channel, and the beach in Wissant was practically non-existent, with the tide being right in (and quite ferocious, at that). It was extremely windy there too, so we didn't dally there long, but made our way into town for a spot of lunch. Yum! After lunch it was time to head back to Cite Europe to accomplish our main objective of the day - SHOPPING!!! Oh boy, did some of us shop, too! Me, I was a bit careful about my spending, and really only bought presents for people or a spot of cheese for me (oh and some more sephora, I mean, hey, a girl can never have too much - AND it was 20% off too!). We arranged to meet at the food court for a crepe and a coffee before getting the train back to the UK - but as we were waiting for our food, we suddenly became aware of a loud, incessant beeping noise, followed by an announcement in French. Looking around us, none of the other diners seemed too perturbed by this - nor the waiters for that matter - and so we asked one of the waiters what was going on. "Oh, it is as you say, a fire alarm. Ze are evacuating people." What? So we made our way to our cars - only to realise that we were all parked in different locations, and there was the hugest of queues exiting the car park - and our train was leaving in 20 minutes! Suffice to say that we missed our train, and in fact, 2 of us made it onto the same train, and Ira ended up on the train behind us. We waited for her in Folkestone before we all journeyed in convoy back to Sutton. What a day, hey?

Robin Hood, Maid Marian - and The Nottingham Belfry Hotel

Hi all, This won't be a blog of my usual standard, sorry, but that's for two reasons. 1. I'm very busy at the moment - more on that later. 2. I don't think anyone is actually reading this anymore. No comments have been coming through.

I wonder if I should take the hint therefore? Shut down the blog? But I really enjoy doing it...

Anyway, this week I have been in Nottingham for a 2 day Music Specialist Colleges Conference (yes, important individual that I am). I got to live in the lap of 4 star luxury for 2 days (well, 1 night - school wouldn't pay for my accommodation the night before the conference started - even though I argued it was better to go the night before and therefore not be at the mercy of British Rail very early in the morning to try to ensure being on time - and not to mention that the train ticket the night before was cheaper... so I had to foot that cost myself in a crappy hotel in downtown Nottingham!)

But the Nottingham Belfry hotel is very lovely, I had a huge room and it was really luxurious (for a lowly teacher like me) and the conference was very informative. Heard a really good choir today, Madrigalis from the Northampton School for Girls - they were quality. Learned about all sorts of wierd and wonderful web things that I didn't really know much about before but which make me sound like I'm speaking Chinese or something - wikis, nings and so on - heard some very inspirational speakers (Howard Goodall and Richard Stilgoe to name two) and some not so inspirational speakers (a lesson in how not to present a workshop to delegates paying £395 a head!). But all that being said, it was really a very enjoyable, informative two days.

Alas now its back to the rat race, with Awards evening tomorrow night, full day of teaching on Friday (alas!) and then! A lovely day trip to France with the Sutton ladies...

Meanwhile, check out my lovely room with the plasma screen TV...thank you very much....