The good news is I have a full time, permanent teaching job from September. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee! The bad news is you will never get to hear all those stories I was talking about. I'm sure you'll survive.
I have now officially finished work for 6 weeks and in celebration have spent the last 15 hours sleeping. I was brutally awoken by the sound of the X-Files theme tune being played at top volume from some sort of PA system rigged up by the nutters across the street. For the last hour they have been alternating between The X-Files, Superman and Titanic, yet I am resolutely cheerful. That is how glad I am it is the summer holidays.
The main happening of the holidays will be the merging of the book collections of one Miss Kay Karoons and one Mr Liam Theroux. And not only are our books moving in together, we are too! I shall do my best to prevent this blog from becoming merely a record of domestic drudgery as my role in this relationship has been clearly set out by our new landlord. Please see record of conversation between New Landlord and Liam Theroux below.
New Landlord : The council tax is band B
Liam Theroux : Okay.
New Landlord: The rent is payable on the 3rd of each month.
Liam Theroux: Sure.
Now imagine all sorts of moving house discussion continuing in a similar vein. Blah, blah, blah. As they reach the end of the conversation...
New Landlord: Well, I'll be around on the Saturday you're moving in.
Liam Theroux: Great.
New Landlord: That way if your partner has any questions, like how the hob works, I can answer them.
Liam Theroux insists that this was said without any hint of humour so I now have to think of imaginative ways to freak out New Landlord with my progressiveness. Maybe I'll wear trousers on moving in day. Oh the scandal. Please also note the use of the term 'partner'. Agggggggggggggggggggggggh! I shall say no more.
Finally, in celebration of me not having to decipher the ramblings of 4 year olds for at least 6 weeks, I present you with 2 of the strangest exchanges from the last few days of term.
1.
Small boy approaches with his hand on his chest. He is obviously distressed.
Small boy: Miss Karoons, I've lost my mojo.
Me: What do you mean?
Small boy begins to cry.
Small boy: My mojo's gone. I don't know where it is.
Me: What's a mojo? What does it look like?
Small boy: My mojoooooooooooooooooooooo. [taps chest furiously]
Me: Oh OK. You go into assembly and I'll look for it.
I spend a baffled 15 minutes trying to decide how best to present a found mojo. The children come back into the classroom and I prepare to get to the bottom of this mojo business. The same small boy enters the room but is beaming from ear to ear.
Small boy: Miss Karoons, I've found my mojo!
Me: That's great. I am pleased. Can you find mine now please?
2.
Small boy: Miss Karoons, I am your father.
Me: Have you been watching Star Wars?
Small boy: What's Star Wars?
Me: Nevermind.
