It was boy #1 's birthday recently, why do we have to have all his wretched mates round, I can't wait til they are old enough to get out to the pub or something. Mind you, they might be OK by then. But now, my God what a set.
There's ****** who I shall call Gollum. He can be relied on want "NEED" any other toy which is being played with by another child. To the point where Gollum can't actually play with any of his hoard as his legs are buckling under the weight of it all. I actually heard him say " they are all mine" in a shrill and disturbing voice.
Then they is ****** who I shall call Pushit. What ever you say he can't do, then that is what he will do. I caught him with a large full water pistol in the kids room. Yes I know it sounds petty, but would you like to get into a wet bed? And this is after he had been told it was an OUTSIDE toy. "Can I just squirt it in the bath then?" Get real, like I'm going to let that happen.
Next up is ****** who I shall call Baby. Yes he's the one who cries to get his way. He cries so easily you almost dare not speak to him. But although it undoubtedly works at home, it won't work with me. He can just cry himself dry. And rally what is the big deal? So someone sat in his place - So?
Finally we have **** who I shall call Whiner. God he is hard work. Loud, unruley, pushy, a bad looser AND a bad winner (dreadful combination). To cap it off, he smells. How does a seven year old get to smell so bad? Don't they wash him?
I could go on, but I think you get the picture.
I can understand why so many parents just don't entertain at home for their kids. No, they ship them off to kiddy world for some hydrogenated fats and a sugar rush, then send 'em back home to mum and dad.
Next year I will suggest a much more select guest list, or perhaps a themed party. Mary Keller springs to mind for some reason.
Boris
Tuesday, 27 March 2007
Bloody Students
Firstly, this is not the obvious post about students in a pub sharing a packet of crisps all night. No, this is a more serious matter for anyone who reads this (I think that's just the two of us then). I refer to the recent phenomenon of students somehow morphing into consumers.
Anyone who teaches will I am sure be familiar with this and those who don't will just have to make the best of it - sorry.
So, there seems to have been a shift in the student community in all areas of FE. At one time, they signed up for the course, either did the the work or didn't do the work, passed or failed and that was the end of it.
Now they sign up PAY THE FEES and then expect to pass the course without any further effort on their behalf at all. Just turning up seems to be optional.
Are we just selecting students on the basis of whether they can pay or not? What happened to having a proper interview to determine how badly they wanted to do the course and learn the content? If they would even bother to turn up?
The module descriptions are clear enough and the students know that a little or a lot of home study is required, according to the nature of the course, but still they piss about and don't listen to the simplest of instruction or bother to even try to understand their part in the learning experience.
When they then fail or are in clear danger of failing, they whinge like fuck that the reason they have failed is the quality of the teaching, the quality of the course materials, their dyslexia, their learning style was not catered for - anything except acknowledging that they were too lazy to actually do the work.
They may as well be honest and just say I should have passed because I PAID!
Well guess what, it doesn't work like that. You have to work too.
Anyone considering doing an FE course and thinking they will pass because they have paid really needs to have a re-think. There is no value in a qualification like that. Anyone can buy one and it becomes a meaningless bit of paper.
You might as well just frame the receipt.
Boris
Anyone who teaches will I am sure be familiar with this and those who don't will just have to make the best of it - sorry.
So, there seems to have been a shift in the student community in all areas of FE. At one time, they signed up for the course, either did the the work or didn't do the work, passed or failed and that was the end of it.
Now they sign up PAY THE FEES and then expect to pass the course without any further effort on their behalf at all. Just turning up seems to be optional.
Are we just selecting students on the basis of whether they can pay or not? What happened to having a proper interview to determine how badly they wanted to do the course and learn the content? If they would even bother to turn up?
The module descriptions are clear enough and the students know that a little or a lot of home study is required, according to the nature of the course, but still they piss about and don't listen to the simplest of instruction or bother to even try to understand their part in the learning experience.
When they then fail or are in clear danger of failing, they whinge like fuck that the reason they have failed is the quality of the teaching, the quality of the course materials, their dyslexia, their learning style was not catered for - anything except acknowledging that they were too lazy to actually do the work.
They may as well be honest and just say I should have passed because I PAID!
Well guess what, it doesn't work like that. You have to work too.
Anyone considering doing an FE course and thinking they will pass because they have paid really needs to have a re-think. There is no value in a qualification like that. Anyone can buy one and it becomes a meaningless bit of paper.
You might as well just frame the receipt.
Boris
Sunday, 4 March 2007
Sunday Afternoon
I am on my own. That is to say that Mrs B is out and I am at home with #1 and #2. They don't really count as company as they are not adult enough to form reasoned arguments as to why they should only be responsible for getting stuff out and I should be responsible for putting said stuff away.
In the absence of Mrs B, I have made them tidy up some toys. Yes, it felt good acting like my own dad for a while. But then I remembered why I don't speak to my Dad so I have decided to join in with their game which seems to consist mainly of fighting each other.
I don't mind this as I feel that the practice will come in handy as they get older and venture away from Sleepy Hollow, and I could do with the practice too.
Amazing how, with a well timed push, a three year old can send a seven year old flying. This is very "martial arts" style and I am impressed with #2. I tell him and he tries it on me, Judas.
In the absence of Mrs B, I have made them tidy up some toys. Yes, it felt good acting like my own dad for a while. But then I remembered why I don't speak to my Dad so I have decided to join in with their game which seems to consist mainly of fighting each other.
I don't mind this as I feel that the practice will come in handy as they get older and venture away from Sleepy Hollow, and I could do with the practice too.
Amazing how, with a well timed push, a three year old can send a seven year old flying. This is very "martial arts" style and I am impressed with #2. I tell him and he tries it on me, Judas.
Tuesday, 27 February 2007
Sick kids
My kids have not been rude for a couple of days. They have been sick. Chesty cough, sore throat, vomiting etc.
Now Mrs B has also succumbed, leaving me Holding the Fort.
This is the problem. When I was growing up, in our house, if you were ill, you were left alone except for the bare minimum of care eg a stale sandwich and a glass of water every so often. Only if hospitalisation was required would any further attention be given.
When Mrs B was growing up, if you were ill, you were lavished with attention. Tucked-up in bed, special food, constant checks of the forehead for a temperature etc.
Sooooo, when I am ill (hardly ever as there is no secondary gain) Mrs B mothers me - which I hate. When Mrs B is ill I ignore her - which she hates.
Right now I should be able to do my own thing with all other members of the household being ignored unless in danger of imminent death, but no I am up and down like a yo yo fetching and carrying and making soothing noises as best I can (which I hate as I feel like a hypocrite).
Why can't everyone be normal like me? Life would be so much easier.
Boris
Now Mrs B has also succumbed, leaving me Holding the Fort.
This is the problem. When I was growing up, in our house, if you were ill, you were left alone except for the bare minimum of care eg a stale sandwich and a glass of water every so often. Only if hospitalisation was required would any further attention be given.
When Mrs B was growing up, if you were ill, you were lavished with attention. Tucked-up in bed, special food, constant checks of the forehead for a temperature etc.
Sooooo, when I am ill (hardly ever as there is no secondary gain) Mrs B mothers me - which I hate. When Mrs B is ill I ignore her - which she hates.
Right now I should be able to do my own thing with all other members of the household being ignored unless in danger of imminent death, but no I am up and down like a yo yo fetching and carrying and making soothing noises as best I can (which I hate as I feel like a hypocrite).
Why can't everyone be normal like me? Life would be so much easier.
Boris
Monday, 26 February 2007
The Weekend
Worked later than usual on Friday so was home at about 6:00pm. We were supposed to be going to a PTA event, which I was NOT looking forward to, but the missus insisted we go. So imagine my relief when she announced that we were not going to the PTA, but instead I would be taking her out for a nice meal.
We live in Sleepy Hollow, but the agreed venue was in nearby Sleepier Hollow (where the local inbreds live). So off we go and arrive at said eatery only to be told there would be a wait of at least 40 minutes for a table. Too long. Back in the car to Sleepy Hollow and to another possible troughing site. Sorry, but our kitchen exploded today, so we aren't doing food tonight. FUCK. One last attempt, then there would be no alternative but down to the local Tesco for a "Finest" and back home to the microwave.
We are in luck the Italian can accommodate us! Had a nice meal (but way overpriced - one of the problems of living in Sleepy Hollow where the average income is in excess of £50 per week). People we knew were on the next table so more nice chitty chatting.
By now the missus had had a couple of wines (bottles not glasses) and fancied a swift pint in a local pub. Again we found ourselves wandering round town and finally settled on a new pub - ie it's been there for 7 years but we haven't been in yet.
Oh my GOD, the place is full of our mates, a fab night ensues and I eventually for home and let the missus stay out a bit longer with an old girl friend who now lives hundreds of miles away and was here on a flying visit to her parents.
Why did I go home? Well, I was running a weekend workshop so had to be a little bit sensible and had I been really sensible I would have spent the evening preparing my notes and getting an early night instead of going out on the razz.
I often teach in a local college, but as part of a team. But this was MY show and the delegates were paying good money (very good money actually).
Anyway, some how it went well on the Saturday so only Sunday to go and chance for an early night. So I get home on Saturday evening and 5:30ish, breakfast things still on the table and no wife or kids. Rang her mate and yes she's there, "Why don't you come round?, the kids are just about to eat". OK,
So off I trot round to theirs and end up eating greasy fish and chips (well I am a northerner) and drinking a bottle of red wine (a refined northerner) then home to bed with no revision again.
Make it through Sundays workshop. Where the hell is this weekend going? Get home. Breakfast things still on the table (two days worth now) and I really CAN'T ignor it anymore so spend the next hour clearing up in the kitchen. But I get my own back by leaving the now clean pans on the draining board. Funny how she can live with dirty pots and pans on every surface, but can't stand to see clean ones left to drain!
Moved Away Friend from Saturday turns up at 7 and has brought a bottle of wine for us three to share over dinner which I cook. That's ok, nice sociable evening ensues. NO out comes the second bottle she brought, and this time it's not wine, it's gin.
MAF is a heavy drinker, I have rarely seen her sober. She smokes - a lot. We go out into the back yard and the very cold northern air, and end up staying out getting drunker - I may have even had a cig or two but really can't remember that well. Would love to regale you of the details of our nattering, but can't remember that either. I hope I did not make a tit of myself. What a disgrace. pissed-up three nights in a row, and all work nights.
Monday morning - payback. Some thing has been in the room overnight while we slept. I think it was Gus. For those who don't know, Gus is the party gorilla, and he comes into your room after a party and throws your clothes around jumps up and down on you and shits in your mouth.
I have to work again this morning, so I take some paracetamol, and pretend to be OK. I make it though the day.
Then I remember, I am supposed to be on a diet. My diet does not allow chips, fried fish, pizza, wine, gin, or in fact ANYTHING I have eaten since and including Friday night. I have an appointment with my naturpath tomorrow and she will KNOW what I have done. I will feel bad.
I will never drink again.
Boris
We live in Sleepy Hollow, but the agreed venue was in nearby Sleepier Hollow (where the local inbreds live). So off we go and arrive at said eatery only to be told there would be a wait of at least 40 minutes for a table. Too long. Back in the car to Sleepy Hollow and to another possible troughing site. Sorry, but our kitchen exploded today, so we aren't doing food tonight. FUCK. One last attempt, then there would be no alternative but down to the local Tesco for a "Finest" and back home to the microwave.
We are in luck the Italian can accommodate us! Had a nice meal (but way overpriced - one of the problems of living in Sleepy Hollow where the average income is in excess of £50 per week). People we knew were on the next table so more nice chitty chatting.
By now the missus had had a couple of wines (bottles not glasses) and fancied a swift pint in a local pub. Again we found ourselves wandering round town and finally settled on a new pub - ie it's been there for 7 years but we haven't been in yet.
Oh my GOD, the place is full of our mates, a fab night ensues and I eventually for home and let the missus stay out a bit longer with an old girl friend who now lives hundreds of miles away and was here on a flying visit to her parents.
Why did I go home? Well, I was running a weekend workshop so had to be a little bit sensible and had I been really sensible I would have spent the evening preparing my notes and getting an early night instead of going out on the razz.
I often teach in a local college, but as part of a team. But this was MY show and the delegates were paying good money (very good money actually).
Anyway, some how it went well on the Saturday so only Sunday to go and chance for an early night. So I get home on Saturday evening and 5:30ish, breakfast things still on the table and no wife or kids. Rang her mate and yes she's there, "Why don't you come round?, the kids are just about to eat". OK,
So off I trot round to theirs and end up eating greasy fish and chips (well I am a northerner) and drinking a bottle of red wine (a refined northerner) then home to bed with no revision again.
Make it through Sundays workshop. Where the hell is this weekend going? Get home. Breakfast things still on the table (two days worth now) and I really CAN'T ignor it anymore so spend the next hour clearing up in the kitchen. But I get my own back by leaving the now clean pans on the draining board. Funny how she can live with dirty pots and pans on every surface, but can't stand to see clean ones left to drain!
Moved Away Friend from Saturday turns up at 7 and has brought a bottle of wine for us three to share over dinner which I cook. That's ok, nice sociable evening ensues. NO out comes the second bottle she brought, and this time it's not wine, it's gin.
MAF is a heavy drinker, I have rarely seen her sober. She smokes - a lot. We go out into the back yard and the very cold northern air, and end up staying out getting drunker - I may have even had a cig or two but really can't remember that well. Would love to regale you of the details of our nattering, but can't remember that either. I hope I did not make a tit of myself. What a disgrace. pissed-up three nights in a row, and all work nights.
Monday morning - payback. Some thing has been in the room overnight while we slept. I think it was Gus. For those who don't know, Gus is the party gorilla, and he comes into your room after a party and throws your clothes around jumps up and down on you and shits in your mouth.
I have to work again this morning, so I take some paracetamol, and pretend to be OK. I make it though the day.
Then I remember, I am supposed to be on a diet. My diet does not allow chips, fried fish, pizza, wine, gin, or in fact ANYTHING I have eaten since and including Friday night. I have an appointment with my naturpath tomorrow and she will KNOW what I have done. I will feel bad.
I will never drink again.
Boris
Wednesday, 14 February 2007
Val Day
Woke up this morning to a cup of tea in bed from She Who Must Be Obeyed. How nice. "Get your shower and come down" she says. There on the landing is a trail of red and pink paper hearts leading to my place at the kitchen table.
I let her stew for a while until she just had to ask "Well, where's mine?" Sorry love I forgot I lied. She gave me one of her looks, I left for work and waited for her.
At 9:10 right on cue she rings me "thank you for the card and flowers darling - you bastard".
Yes reader(s), I had left them on her desk at work.
Why do we play such games with each other?
Because we can.
Love you loads darling.
Boris
I let her stew for a while until she just had to ask "Well, where's mine?" Sorry love I forgot I lied. She gave me one of her looks, I left for work and waited for her.
At 9:10 right on cue she rings me "thank you for the card and flowers darling - you bastard".
Yes reader(s), I had left them on her desk at work.
Why do we play such games with each other?
Because we can.
Love you loads darling.
Boris
Monday, 12 February 2007
Rude Kids 2
So far so good. #1 has been behaving impeccably for the past day or so. We have half term this week so I'm planning a treat for him, either the flix or a trip to the railway museum (it's worth pointing out at this stage that I would like to go to the flix, HE would prefer the railway museum). Anyway, tonight he asked really nicely for things and when offered things he did not want, politely declined.
Progress.
The bad news is my experiment did not work. No, I did try for a few hours, really I did. Then I read Ms Ms' comment, slapped him with a wet fish (hard, as advised) and he's been great ever since.
Thanks for the free psychotherapy, shall I bring round my clippers?
Boris
PS. Isn't it great when the one day of the year we get snow, the schools all close so townie 4x4 school run drivers can't even use that as an excuse. Sorry for any offence, of course I know you REALLY do need your SUV.
Progress.
The bad news is my experiment did not work. No, I did try for a few hours, really I did. Then I read Ms Ms' comment, slapped him with a wet fish (hard, as advised) and he's been great ever since.
Thanks for the free psychotherapy, shall I bring round my clippers?
Boris
PS. Isn't it great when the one day of the year we get snow, the schools all close so townie 4x4 school run drivers can't even use that as an excuse. Sorry for any offence, of course I know you REALLY do need your SUV.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)