There's only one F in OFSTED

The only way to explain my upcoming fear of the next three weeks is with the following poem that someone once sent my dad during a particularly stressful OFSTED inspection; I found it here and believe now is the time to share it with the world, we all need a giggle at the moment!

There's only one f-in OFSTED

But that's quite enough for us.

But with no f-in lesson plans

There's one hell of an f-in fuss.

There's an f-in form to fill in

For everything that's said.

There'll be no f-in future

If that fails to please the Head.

Sounds like one f-in photocopier

Has died of overheat.

There's no f-in chance at all now

To keep the worksheets neat.

There'll be no f-in inspector

When your lesson is first rate,

And there's no f-in good excuse

To explain why you're late.

There should be an f-in handbook

For everything you do.

Tell the R.I. you left it

For light reading in the loo.

There's no f-in parking space

For half the f-in staff...

RESERVED for f-in OFSTED

Who have the last f-in laff.

There's no f-in spiritual

Or cultural education.

No f-in equality

But lots in differentiation.

There's only one F-in OFSTED

With it's "Education Speak"

Thank God there's an f-in Friday

To end the OFSTED WEEK.

(Check out the rest of the site cos it has another funny OFSTED reference posing the question, 'How many OFSTED inspectors does it take to change a lightbulb?')

You can't teach an old dog new tricks

Lucy is back and we have a full house, well we did once Nic got back from her jaunt away this weekend; and to celebrate we went out for a meal, at Frankie and Benny's.

On arrival we were informed there were no steaks, salad, raspberries (???), bananas, fishcakes or coleslaw. Rather confused we said that was fine and were soon seated with menu's picking what we wanted.
Mistake number one was sitting in between Mike and Nic who intermittently pulled my chair back and forth between them making me feel like I was 5 and having to tell them that they need to learn to share me and I love them both very much! Having pacified the children we set about ordering which prompted me to have to speak aloud and pronounce food names that I swear were designed not to be uttered by mankind and certainly not me! Fortunately I chose one that I thought was fine; Calzone Siciliana. The focus on that sentence folks is THOUGHT. Mike sniggered "I do love it when you have to order"
This propmted sympathy from Gilly who admitted that whilst in Rome she was laughed at not only by her Dad, but also the waiter, and deliberately ordered things only in English to avoid the embarassment.

Presently our orders arrived, and despite what we were told on entering the establishment, miraculously both mine, and Mike's calzone had salad!!! Gill also commented that the blurb about it being 'generously smothered' with sauce was a little optimistic as it was a table spoon at most. Gill was also missing her corn on the cob and on enquiring as to its wearabouts, and obviously giving the waiter the false impression she had some corn fetish, he came back with the sentence: "I'm sorry they seem to have run out of corn as well, but I can give you a corn relish as a substitute" He plonked a tiny paper cup on the table filled with what looked like a watery sweetcorn substance. You had to admire his effort, what a substitute it was!

After Mike had shown me, using two knives, how a knife sharpener works; Gilly's Mike ranted about his final year knife sharpening project; and after I'd stuck two straws in my mouth like fangs and posed for the picture (picture coming), and Gilly's Mike contorted his face in trying to get coke out of a glass which was too big for the two tiny straws supplied with the drink, and then ever the engineer, made one large straw with both; Lucy proposed that Mike invent some sort of safety device for moving archives in offices. Now this prompted a whole new thought process for some of us into the realm of moving archives, or shelving. For those of us who have not worked in offices the concept was difficult to imagine - so we had it demonstrated using of course 4 glasses of diet coke and apple juice. However, even that didn't convince Kirsty and Mike's hands became the 'walls of the room' and thus a part of the demonstration until she finally understood. Sadly Lucy's rather serious point about nearly being squished in between these shelves for lack of safety devices got somewhat lost in the abstract reconstruction with glasses!

After our meal, waiting for the food to digest conversation naturally turned to a sillier course of direction, this time around OCD's. Gill let slip that there are signs to whether or not you have OCD and intrigued by this I asked for elaboration. I got the rather odd "Imagine a swing swinging in your head, now, can you make it stop swinging." Immediately, for some unknown reason that happens when you are trying very hard to think, 7 pairs of eyes turned up towards the ceiling, squinting, desparate to conjour the image of a swing swinging. Lots of murmurs of 'ooh it is difficult' and 'yes I can just about do it if I blink and imagine a still swing' I piped up and said "I'm having difficulty imagining a swing" I squinted some more at some people stood outside the window.
"Good God" was Gilly's reaction as I contorted my face, and Mike mused that clearly I have issues if I can't even imagine a swing, let along one swinging.
This then developed into the 'who can do what inherited thing, and who feels like an idiot when they can't?' game and involved finger movement - where you move certain fingers without moving the others, nose wrinkling and continuous twitching, nostril flaring and ear wiggling to name but a selection. Imagine now a table of 7 all trying to do these things simultaneously, but not necessarily the same ones, as Mike commented "anyone looking at us now would think we're completely insane!"*
Upon leaving the establishment I spied a banana and shouted a little louder than intended "look it's a banana!" whereby I was hustled out quickly by Nic and Mike after several looks from other customers confirmed they thought we were all insane.

The party then moved home where Gilly and Kirsty thought it a good idea to attempt to get me to do Ballet poses in the kitchen again. This meant more 'look at my hands, LOOK at my hands, now look at your hands' comments from Gilly, who I think has a hand complex. But on the plus side it also meant nicer comments from her and Kirsty such as 'you're really quite flexible' something I would have disagreed with, and some rather vague advice such as 'you're strength is going to come from your back in this pose!' and 'imagine you have string running through you'!!!!!!. I managed a couple of poses, but don't ask me to name them, and I'm available for demonstration after 10pm tomorrow, tuesday, and thursday, and from 12pm onwards wed and 3pm Friday should anyone like to see!

And what have I learned from tonight? Well, that I'm apparently a lot more flexible than I thought, either that or I've dislocated some things severely. That I can easily touch my toes. I've learnt that Frankie and Benny's lie about most things; the amount of sauce, whether you get salad or not, or whether they have bananas; but that they are willing to substitute items for the closest alternative! I have learnt that there are such things as moving archives, and that these pose a serious threat to humankind when in the archives. I have learnt that even if I choose an item from the menu that I think I can pronounce, I probably can't and that people will laugh. I have learnt I have issues when it comes to imagining things, especially swings; and that I think I have OCD so far as my bed is concerned (not in a dodgy way). I have learnt that drinking coffee before bed means I need to stay up and write this blog, but most of all, I think I have learned that the value of friendship means far more to me than I can ever express in words. That the 6 other people I was at dinner with tonight are probably those that I am closest to, and feel most at ease and comfortable around; and without them, I would truly be lost. In the laughter, the silliness and stupidity, I left knowing how much I love Mike and how much I value the others' friendships.

*words modified because I find original sentence too offensive to post.

PANDA-monium

So I was told last night of this story, which I have to share with you all becuase it's funny, and it's the kind of thing I'd probably do too, if I was drunk and saw a Panda...and before you all jump to the spitroasting conclusion that I can just tell you're going to, admittedly because of several previous posts, it has nothing to do with spitroasting...either definition.

Different versions of the full story can be found here and here, but mine goes like this:

There was a man in China, who had had a few too many beers at lunchtime. Dizzy and disorientated he stumbled past a zoo, and more specifically a panda encolosure. On a sudden impulse to hug and shake the panda's hand he jumped into the enclosure.
The man crept up to Gu Gu the panda and hugged it, Gu Gu obviously shocked by this sudden affection from mankind bit the man's leg! Go Gu Gu! The man then kicked poor Gu Gu with his other leg...which Gu Gu promptly bit as well! The man bit Gu Gu back, and eventually man and panda started fighting and the zoo keeper had to break them up with a hosepipe!!!
Both Gu Gu and the man have suffered, although I think that the man came off worse, needing stiches and tetnus shots, Gu Gu just went off his food for a couple of days...understandable really!

But really, the question posed is, who when drunk, would not want to hug a panda?

Alice, Alice, who the F*** is Alice?

"Hello I've just seen on your website a post advertised for Taped Interview Summariser and I'd like an application pack sent to me please"
"Oh right, What's your postcode"
"B** ***"
"and the house number?"
"96"
"Have I already spoken to you?"
"No, not to my knowledge"
"Oh. Nevermind. What's your name please?"
"Alison"
"Yes?"
"Evans"
"Right I'll send that out to you straight away"

I picked up the post this morning amongst which there was a big brown envelope addressed to 'Alice Nevins'. I sighed and inwardly concluded this is probably why a lot of criminals get away, they probably confess, and the police go and arrest someone else with a similar name!

Rejection on every level

So yesterday I recieved a letter from The Rep refusing me an interview, at least I got a letter so I'm not left hanging on guessing if one is going to arrive I suppose. I also took a trip to the Job Centre in Northfield, which wasn't a pleasant experience, but they have found me a couple of jobs I can enquire into. Unfortunately though, I can't claim benefits, yes, it has got so desperate that was my aim, to join the dole queue; but even they have rejected me.

I sat, last night in my room after work, and cried. Cried my eyes out. Sobbing onto a piece of paper I wrote down how I was feeling while my candles flickered around me.

I feel a failure at the moment. Total failure. I just want a chance to prove I can work, and that I work well, I've never been asked to leave a job, they always want to hold onto me, that surely says something. And the range of jobs I've done varies from Bar work to Customer Service, to Tour guiding. It's not like I have no experience, I've got fucking shit loads of it.
I have never felt such a failure before, I feel like I'm letting people down, myself most of all. Yesterday the guys in the Job Centre looked at me like I was mad, I felt out of place, I looked out of place, here I am, recent graduate with a First in my subject, plenty of skills and qualifications, previous experience, have been volunteering since I was 15, and I can't get a job. What am I doing wrong? Seriously, someone tell me, cos at this rate, financially I'm going to be forced to swallow my pride and go home, and that would kill me.
Me and my dad can't live together, we've tried it before (for 18 years) and I couldn't wait to move out, I wanted to move out when I was 16, live on my own I was so unhappy at home. Nothing I do pleases him, and he finds fault with everything I do. How can I live like that? I can't.
So, it's either find a job here, or, I don't know. I contemplated going to live with a friend elsewhere in the country, see if I'm any better at finding jobs there. Or just doing one of those crappy jobs abroad where they pay for your flights and accommodation on ski resorts and you nanny kids. I could do that. Knowing my luck though, I wouldn't even get an interview, let alone the job.

So very frustrated at the moment, and so very depressed about it. I feel as though I'm treading water, and to be honest, I'm sick of it, I want to stop, I'm getting cramp in my legs and my arms are tired, I just want to give in, let the water wash over me and darkness swallow me up.

Tooth Fairy

So yesterday I repeated the fiasco of a month or so back by having my second wisdom tooth out, top left (on me). It was suprisingly better. The anaesthetic tasted just as bad, but wore in just as quickly and even the Dentist remarked "you seem a lot calmer this time Alison"
So the tooth came out, with no tears, no pain, no uncontrollable shaking of the legs, and no glances at me from the nurses. Nice.
And then I was sat downstairs when a nurse approached me and asked if I had time for my 'scale and polish' as the other dentist had time to do that for me.
'Scale and Polish' I thought, sure, no problem "Ok" I agreed.

The Dentist was a leprachaun, well, he spoke like one, truly fulfilling the Irish stereotype in every way I almost expected a 'top of the mornin' to ya' but sadly didn't get it, that might have made things a little more bearable if I had.
A scale and polish, is to my knowledge, not supposed to hurt. It was all I could do to stop myself from leaping out of the chair.
"I'm sorry, am I being a little rough with ya?" the leprachaun said when I wriggled back as far into the chair as I could to avoid the pain
"Did I not tell you at the start to stop me if it hurt?" I don't know how he expected a reply, there were 8 instruments in my mouth...I said "ooooo" meaning 'no you fucking didn't!'
Upon seeing my dice earrings "oh, I do like your earrings, I'm going to Vegas over Christmas"
What did he expect? another gurgle from me to acknowledge this piece of information I clearly couldn't give a shit about?
Then we moved onto the polish, a lot better, not at all painful, but the leprachaun was now in his element with his 5 year old routine:
"This bit is a lot more fun, look it tickles a bit" he said putting it on the roof of my mouth where it didn't tickle at all, he laughed, I gave my best interpretation of a giggle to please him and hoped to God I'd be finished soon.
Clearly he was a junior dentist just qualified, clearly he has some way to go with his customer service skills. He resorted to treating me like I was 5:
"Well, your gums might be a little sore (you don't say!) but that shouldn't stop you brushing your teeth and doing the A1 job you've been doing!" He grinned.
I forced a lame smile back "oh good?" 'now where is my lollipop?' I thought.

Age Old Wisdom

A discussion on age last night, oh what stimulating and riveting conversations we do have, it must mean we're getting old!!!

"oooh American Beauty, I love that film. I remember when it came out I went to see it with 2 of my friends at the cinema, and we giggled when we got in because we were 16 or 17 and it was an 18 film, and they didn't ask us for ID, and we were like: tee hee we didnt' get asked for ID I can't believe it!!"
Mike looked critically at me, I pondered whether he was assessing exactly WHAT he was going out with
"I think you could look anywhere between 18 and 30"
"Are you saying I look 30?" I looked offended
"no, I'm saying you could look a range of ages because women don't age like men do"
"I don't get it, and by the look on Nic's face, neither does she!"
"Oh I don't know, I think women can be more flexible with their age than men...I don't think I could pass for 30"
"Do you mean, that with today's make up, girls who are 13 who slap it on could easily pass for 18?"
"Sort of, but not really. I just think you could say to someone you were 20, or 25 or 30 and no one would question it, you could pass for any of them"
"If you shave your beard and moustache off, you look younger. In fact, you could pass quite easily for 14!!!"

Only the sane are mad!

So the other night, at Mike's request I joined him for a jaunt to an Iranian restaurant in town for a romantic meal for two. Something we have not done of late. Sadly alas alack it was not that romantic, this was mostly due to me opening my mouth without thinking.

We had only just started walking up the road when I made my first remarkably stupid comment! It was never going to get any better you could just tell.
"Iranian! I'm quite excited!"
"Yes, although I noticed someone on the website likened it 'Persian'"
"No, they likened it to Persian and Greek food, probably because you don't get that many Iranian restaurants"
"That's my point my dear, Iran is the modern day Persia, it IS where Persia used to be, so it IS Persian, not 'like' Persian"
"ah!"

The food was delicious and only slightly spoilt by my lack of knowledge in one form or another:
"So is Latin what the Greek's spoke?"
An incredulous look of disbelief crossed Mike's face
"I mean" I said hurridly "Did they speak Latin, is it the same as Greek language?"
"No!"
"Oh"
"They don't even look similar"
"Well I've never seen it written...alright" I said changing tactics and realising that coming from a family of horticulturalists where everything is written in Latin this wasn't entirely true "I haven't seen it written for a long time."
"That's better"
"But they were around at the same time as the Roman's weren't they? The Greeks and Romans existed at the same time, I mean, I know Greeks still exist but..." I trailed off
"Yes darling they did exist at the same time, but they spoke different languages and wrote differently. Greek is entirely different to Latin"
"Right" I puzzled over this for a bit whilst munching on my humungous plate of food "What I don't get" I started "is that everything is measured around Christ. BC and AD. Were the roman's around before or after Christ? And how can anything before Christ be measured?"
"Darling the Romans were around Before and After christ, and what the hell do you mean about anything before being measured?"
"Well" I took a deep breath "Ok, so I get that after Christ it's AD, and we are now 2006AD, BUT, what I don't get is measuring before, I mean you can't say that 0AD was however many years before Christ because we aren't sure how old the earth is."
Mike took a deep breath "Ok" He said slowly "Christ is 0, you work back and forth from that, so before AD goes on to infinity or at least when the earth was created, after Christ, or AD is still happening, and going on until infinity or until the earth ceases to be"
I frowned "ri-ight"
"Look" Mike used the edge of the table in his demonstration and pointing to roughly near the middle he said "Christ is born. Anything this side" he pointed towards me "is BC, before Christ, however, anything this side" he gestured to his half "is AD. So here you have 308 BC: Rome conquers the Etruscan city of Tarquinia" he moved his hand further towards the centre "and here you have 149 BC: Rome destroys Carthage, then Christ is born, then 452: the Huns invade Italy and so on up to the present day"
"Oooh I see, I get it" I exclaimed
Mike heaved a sigh of relief "2006: Ali asks silly questions in a restaurant" He grinned at me.

Despite not having any alcohol (the restaurant is strictly non-alcoholic, not even BYOB) I felt as high as a kite, and extremely full on the way home. Walking down the Hagley Road I started singing and humming to myself.
"That was a good choice Minnie, I enjoyed it" Mike smiled at me
I grinned back "it was wasn't it? Hurrah for Minnie!"
I then took it a little too far, it might have been the satisfyingly full feeling, it might have been the relief at getting out of the house for a night, it might just have been spending quality time with the person I love most in this world, but something prompted me to go over the edge and sing, aloud, quite loudly:
"Minnnnnniiiieeee mininimininini" I varied the pitch "Oh mininininin mini mini miiiiiiiiiiiiini"
I giggled hysterically whilst holding Mike's hand as we approached someone walking towards us
"sssssh now" mike warned
What happened as we passed him was we heard a lot of muttering as he attempted to rap along to the music he was listening to. Both Mike and I giggled uncontrollably and between giggles I managed to squeal "nothing to worry about, he was having a sing song too!"
"Yes, it's like we've all been let out of the lunatic asylum for the day, perhaps he and his imaginary friend could join us for dinner next time!"

Drink up me hearties, yo ho!

So Nic has informed me that it is International Speak like a pirate day on Sept 19th, and we are already planning our Pirate Party!
To attend you will need to learn the words to this song, or else ye will be made to walk the plank like the scurvy seaman/woman ye are:

And just remember me hearties, this was my pirate character as defined by talklikeapirate.com

You are The Cap'n!

Some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some slit the throats of any man that stands between them and the mantle of power. You never met a man you couldn't eviscerate. Not that mindless violence is the only avenue open to you - but why take an avenue when you have complete freeway access? You are the definitive Man of Action. You are James Bond in a blousy shirt and drawstring-fly pants. Your swash was buckled long ago and you have never been so sure of anything in your life as in your ability to bend everyone to your will. You will call anyone out and cut off their head if they show any sign of taking you on or backing down. You cannot be saddled with tedious underlings, but if one of your lieutenants shows an overly developed sense of ambition he may find more suitable accommodations in Davy Jones' locker. That is, of course, IF you notice him. You tend to be self absorbed - a weakness that may keep you from seeing enemies where they are and imagining them where they are not.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

Monsters R us!

Gill is not the only one in our house with mad hair, late last night my hair decided to do this:

Beatbox Ali

We did Beatboxing, DJ and MC'ing today. To make beatbox noises, for those of you that haven't done it before, including secretly in your room when 10 and obsessed with rap and gangsters; it involves making simple noises into a mic to amplify them and get them impressively sounding like a drum kit. It's clever and once you can do that you can add in other noises like scratches (as in when a DJ scratches a record- yes you can do that with noises from your mouth, and yes, it does sound realistic, well, it does if a professional does it, if i do it it sounds desperately like 'waa-a-waaa-a-wa'.) So there I was fully participating in the workshop, saying 'Buh' and 'Kuh' and 'Tuh' into the microphone to form sounds vaguely resembling that a baby makes when trying to learn the alphabet.
Suddenly needing the loo I ran upstairs 'BKT,BKT,BBKT,BBKT' I repeated to myself under my breath as I went upstairs.
As I went into the bathroom they started beatboxing downstairs again and the whole building reverberated with the sounds; 'BKT,BKT,BBKKT,BBKKT' I practised whispering 'BKT, BKT, BKTSSS' (Cymbal sound!). I figured no one could hear so I increased my whisper to a normal volume, and was bobbing along to the beat whilst having a piss. The image alone is priceless. 'BKT BKT BKT BKT' I was practically shouting it. I opened the door and was in the middle of 'K' and 'T' when I stopped sharp as one of my 11 year old young people stood in front of me. Fortunately I don't think he knew what I was doing when I was having a wee, but still I turned a slow shade of red and stopped mid beatbox.
"You're funny you are"
You don't know the half of it kid!


"Card-a-mom?? What is Card-a-MOM?"
"You mean cardamom, and it's a spice"
"How do you not know this??"
"Oh god, a spice, I've only just learnt what Basil is!"

"That's my computer shutting down"
"I'm like a computer...I need to sleep, infact I shall go to bed and my little LED light will go out, and then in the morning you shake my mouse and.....oh god!" Mike went very red whilst I rolled around laughing.