Watching the game against Argentina. Bloody hell.
Now why couldn't they have done that in the last World Cup?
12 November 2005
Make the brushstrokes go away...
Saturday seems to have been designated art and chillaxing day. I usually creep out of the flat at about 11, trying for as little interaction with the gruesome twosome as possible - managed no speech at all today. Glorious feeling of freedom hits me as I walk up and down the hill to Costa, where I avoid ex-Year 11s and buy a small vanilla latte. I used to get an almond croissant as well, but the combination of those two and trains doesn't always turn out well. First sip of coffee produces an almost post-orgasmic glow. I try to speak to people as little as possible.
When I was at university, I craved company all the time. Couldn't stand to spend more than an hour on my own. Never would've imagined desperately needing a day out of contact with anyone. The longest conversation I've had today was with the woman who entered my membership details into the Tate computer.
The Degas etc exhibition was very good. Much more satisfying than Munch at the Royal Academy. Going round to Jamie's tomorrow for lunch and an Almodovar film about bondage.
When I was at university, I craved company all the time. Couldn't stand to spend more than an hour on my own. Never would've imagined desperately needing a day out of contact with anyone. The longest conversation I've had today was with the woman who entered my membership details into the Tate computer.
The Degas etc exhibition was very good. Much more satisfying than Munch at the Royal Academy. Going round to Jamie's tomorrow for lunch and an Almodovar film about bondage.
05 November 2005
Six Weeks til the End of Term
Fairly banal week. The problem with teaching is that one feels the grind of doing the same thing at the same time every week more profoundly, methinks. Happily, the schedule changes every year.
Highlight of the week was the first episode of Rome. Apparently my head of department recommended this to Year 9 (13 year olds)... oh dear. What struck me most, unexpectedly, was the opening credits - no blaring trumpets and creatively animated Pompeian graffiti. All the more excellent for not being anticipated. Accuracy's generally good, other than shifting the death of Caesar's daughter back two years. I loathe Octavian (should really be called Octavius at this stage, but I'll let that go), so well done Max Pirkis for making him seem an utter tosser. Raaah. Having Mr Collins (David Bamber) play Cicero was a stroke of masterful genius. The two characters are very similar, which I'd not considered before: sycophantic, yet self-important. Perfect.
One of my form has invented a religion: Ishism. We've decided that we'll all espouse this and its principle creed of having as many relgious holidays as possible. I'm going to Oxford to see Helen and watch fireworks tomorrow. In the rain. And I've left my umbrella at school.
Ungh.
Highlight of the week was the first episode of Rome. Apparently my head of department recommended this to Year 9 (13 year olds)... oh dear. What struck me most, unexpectedly, was the opening credits - no blaring trumpets and creatively animated Pompeian graffiti. All the more excellent for not being anticipated. Accuracy's generally good, other than shifting the death of Caesar's daughter back two years. I loathe Octavian (should really be called Octavius at this stage, but I'll let that go), so well done Max Pirkis for making him seem an utter tosser. Raaah. Having Mr Collins (David Bamber) play Cicero was a stroke of masterful genius. The two characters are very similar, which I'd not considered before: sycophantic, yet self-important. Perfect.
One of my form has invented a religion: Ishism. We've decided that we'll all espouse this and its principle creed of having as many relgious holidays as possible. I'm going to Oxford to see Helen and watch fireworks tomorrow. In the rain. And I've left my umbrella at school.
Ungh.
Well, this is depressing...
| This Is My Life, Rated | |
| Life: |  6.1 |
| Mind: |  6.6 |
| Body: |  5 |
| Spirit: | 6 |
| Friends/Family: | 5.6 |
| Love: |  0 |
| Finance: |  7.7 |
| Take the Rate My Life Quiz | |
30 October 2005
Renewing the Flatemate cull call
Grumph. Came back from the flicks to find all my marking had been moved and put in one pile. Obnoxious Flatmate wasn't even sitting on the sofa where it'd been. Removed self crossly to room for two hours to work and listen to Robbie.
Pause. Relax. Less than two months left with the annoying buggers. Interestingly, they've managed to create enough mess for an army in the kitchen since they arrived back from Ross-on-Wye while I was out. Not that this is hypocritical or anything. No, siree (and other cowboy exclamations).
Stephen very good on Jonathan Ross last night - oddly put on with Jade Goody, whose way of describing a Brazilian wax is "waxing the lala". Didn't really say anything new, although we did learn the name of his nephew in the 'book/cool' anecdote. He managed to get one over on JR by overpowering him with his own use of compound words. I do miss his glasses, though.
Went to see Zorro on own. A small boy called Sam sat next to me and seemed to like the explosions a lot. Quite sweet. Massively broody at the moment (don't laugh, D.). Must stop planning baby names that go with Lyull's surname. Symptom of insanity and posessiveness. Arrhgh. Turning into Bridget Jones.
Had an ache in the left side of my chest since about lunchtime. Ow. Hurray, however, because the clocks go back tonight and I have an extra hour in bed in the morning.
Pause. Relax. Less than two months left with the annoying buggers. Interestingly, they've managed to create enough mess for an army in the kitchen since they arrived back from Ross-on-Wye while I was out. Not that this is hypocritical or anything. No, siree (and other cowboy exclamations).
Stephen very good on Jonathan Ross last night - oddly put on with Jade Goody, whose way of describing a Brazilian wax is "waxing the lala". Didn't really say anything new, although we did learn the name of his nephew in the 'book/cool' anecdote. He managed to get one over on JR by overpowering him with his own use of compound words. I do miss his glasses, though.
Went to see Zorro on own. A small boy called Sam sat next to me and seemed to like the explosions a lot. Quite sweet. Massively broody at the moment (don't laugh, D.). Must stop planning baby names that go with Lyull's surname. Symptom of insanity and posessiveness. Arrhgh. Turning into Bridget Jones.
Had an ache in the left side of my chest since about lunchtime. Ow. Hurray, however, because the clocks go back tonight and I have an extra hour in bed in the morning.
28 October 2005
Buried in magazines
Was led astray by the free posters in this month's Empire. No idea what Walk the Line's about, but the black, yellow, orange and red poster is very cool. Oh - apparently Johnny Cash. Nope, still none the wiser.
Nothing much to report today. Met H in Harrow. She's spent £3000 on braces, which I'd consider a bit superfluous - and not entirely sensible, given she's going into teaching. Went on a total Fry bender on the net last night, meaning that I didn't go to bed till half one, so didn't get up till eleven. Bit tired as a result.
Thinking of moving to Finchley Road, if I can get through to the rentals guy, who never seems to be at his desk. Wrote Lyull's card. It's a little more risque than usual...
Nothing much to report today. Met H in Harrow. She's spent £3000 on braces, which I'd consider a bit superfluous - and not entirely sensible, given she's going into teaching. Went on a total Fry bender on the net last night, meaning that I didn't go to bed till half one, so didn't get up till eleven. Bit tired as a result.
Thinking of moving to Finchley Road, if I can get through to the rentals guy, who never seems to be at his desk. Wrote Lyull's card. It's a little more risque than usual...
27 October 2005
Ophelia's Attic...or Luxury Apartment?
News on the accomodation front. Came back to the flat this morning to find Sane Flatmate bewailing the 'bad' news: our landlady has written to say we have to move out by the 31st of December.
Turned on the soundtrack to 10 Things I Hate About You and secretly did a happy dance up and down the kitchen.
This does, of course, mean that I'm going to be spending the rest of the weekend flat-hunting, and probably ending up moving in horrendous weather and paying loads in rent, for I vow never to share again (forsooth). However, if this means I never have to hear Obnoxious Flatmate sing Tequila Sunrise ever again, the endeavour will be worthwhile.
New template doesn't seem to have a links section. Once I work out how to put on in the html, you'll all be reconnected to the world, so don't moan, Desdemona!
Turned on the soundtrack to 10 Things I Hate About You and secretly did a happy dance up and down the kitchen.
This does, of course, mean that I'm going to be spending the rest of the weekend flat-hunting, and probably ending up moving in horrendous weather and paying loads in rent, for I vow never to share again (forsooth). However, if this means I never have to hear Obnoxious Flatmate sing Tequila Sunrise ever again, the endeavour will be worthwhile.
New template doesn't seem to have a links section. Once I work out how to put on in the html, you'll all be reconnected to the world, so don't moan, Desdemona!
26 October 2005
Ophelia dissolves into a puddle
Gorgeous day.
Met Jamie for lunch. Felt very important asking reception to summon him. By this point I'd already bought The Ode Less Travelled and vowed to buy a new Moleskine to practise writing iambic pentameters. TOLT turns out to be a textbook for writing poetry in proper forms, which is something I've always wanted to be able to do. The actual writing of poetry wasn't something I was ever taught. Stephen's entirely right to say that learning something artistic requires structure and proper terminology. Otherwise you end up with the poetic equivalent of Pollock.
Running with the theme of art, I went to see the Munch exhibition at the Royal Academy, which was rather dissatisfying. Not the state of the exhibition itself, which was wide-ranging within its theme and extensive, but the artist and his technique. I can't muster up respect for artists who paint in a way even I could manage. I admire Vermeer and artists like him, because they replicate reality with minutely accurate skill. That's something I don't seem to be able to do very often, so I enjoy seeing it. So that started me thinking about what qualifies art, which was touched upon later by...
The divine Stephen Fry. Who was on fine form on the subject of poetry at the Institute, be-cardiganed and be-bow-tied. Hmm. Word invention not going well. He rattled through the rationale for writing a book on writing poetry, which is basically the same as the intro to the book, and read from the sections on ballad and villanelle. Usual hilarity, including necessary condemnation of the French and certain newspapers, e.g. "We must all blame something. Sometimes we must give a name to our pain - hypothetically, let's make it the Daily Mail", which was much approved of. Brilliantly Stephanic explanation of the basic use of language to represent something we can't see: "If you say bounce, I don't think of...clitoris - sorry (slight embarrassment at mental processes)" I think his definition of art, which was in response to a question, ammounted to an expression of feeling, of which we are all capable - essentially, it's something that makes us feel like we're human.
Queued up afterwards to get TOLT signed on the verge of fainting from nervousness. The comparison between chocolate and poetry was made manifest by a chap walking up the queue with tin of Roses. Yum. In front of me were a trio of German-speakers, to whom Stephen gamely tried to speak in German. I think he's reasonably competent, but they reverted to English, so it didn't get complicated enough to judge properly. Got the book and my ticket scribbled all over. Noted to SF that his revealed interest in poetry cast a new light on the Hippopotamus, which I'd (ironically) considered his least autobiographical novel. Went away very happy and with a grin that lasted all the way home and beyond.
Go and get the book. Read the book. Read the amusing bio on the back of the dustjacket. Oh, and those of you who've seen the preview clips of this week's QI, fear not - the centre parting isn't permanent. The specs, however, seem to have vanished.
Met Jamie for lunch. Felt very important asking reception to summon him. By this point I'd already bought The Ode Less Travelled and vowed to buy a new Moleskine to practise writing iambic pentameters. TOLT turns out to be a textbook for writing poetry in proper forms, which is something I've always wanted to be able to do. The actual writing of poetry wasn't something I was ever taught. Stephen's entirely right to say that learning something artistic requires structure and proper terminology. Otherwise you end up with the poetic equivalent of Pollock.
Running with the theme of art, I went to see the Munch exhibition at the Royal Academy, which was rather dissatisfying. Not the state of the exhibition itself, which was wide-ranging within its theme and extensive, but the artist and his technique. I can't muster up respect for artists who paint in a way even I could manage. I admire Vermeer and artists like him, because they replicate reality with minutely accurate skill. That's something I don't seem to be able to do very often, so I enjoy seeing it. So that started me thinking about what qualifies art, which was touched upon later by...
The divine Stephen Fry. Who was on fine form on the subject of poetry at the Institute, be-cardiganed and be-bow-tied. Hmm. Word invention not going well. He rattled through the rationale for writing a book on writing poetry, which is basically the same as the intro to the book, and read from the sections on ballad and villanelle. Usual hilarity, including necessary condemnation of the French and certain newspapers, e.g. "We must all blame something. Sometimes we must give a name to our pain - hypothetically, let's make it the Daily Mail", which was much approved of. Brilliantly Stephanic explanation of the basic use of language to represent something we can't see: "If you say bounce, I don't think of...clitoris - sorry (slight embarrassment at mental processes)" I think his definition of art, which was in response to a question, ammounted to an expression of feeling, of which we are all capable - essentially, it's something that makes us feel like we're human.
Queued up afterwards to get TOLT signed on the verge of fainting from nervousness. The comparison between chocolate and poetry was made manifest by a chap walking up the queue with tin of Roses. Yum. In front of me were a trio of German-speakers, to whom Stephen gamely tried to speak in German. I think he's reasonably competent, but they reverted to English, so it didn't get complicated enough to judge properly. Got the book and my ticket scribbled all over. Noted to SF that his revealed interest in poetry cast a new light on the Hippopotamus, which I'd (ironically) considered his least autobiographical novel. Went away very happy and with a grin that lasted all the way home and beyond.
Go and get the book. Read the book. Read the amusing bio on the back of the dustjacket. Oh, and those of you who've seen the preview clips of this week's QI, fear not - the centre parting isn't permanent. The specs, however, seem to have vanished.
24 October 2005
Pea Brain
Obnoxious Flatemate's quote of the day:
(Upon watching University Challenge) "Hey, these questions are quite hard..."
Uh huh.
(Upon watching University Challenge) "Hey, these questions are quite hard..."
Uh huh.
The ode to happiness
Very excited, as I'm going to hear Stephen Fry talk about his new book on poetry ('The Ode Less Travelled') tomorrow at the Institute of Education. Jamie didn't want to come. Don't understand his lack of interest. Must think of something more interesting to say in the signing queue this time. Asking about pens didn't really reach the required standard of interestingness last time. Oo - didn't realise it was out already: http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/009179661X/qid=1130173716/sr=8-1/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i1_xgl/202-6784694-8896654
Will have to buy one to take with me.
Am back from the grim north, obviously.
Will have to buy one to take with me.
Am back from the grim north, obviously.
23 October 2005
The Rival
D has set up her own blog from darkest Nottingham. She claims this is to disprove everything I say about her (she wasn't keen on the Parisian schoolgirl comparison).
Yeah, well you might like it. Or you might have taste.
Nurrr.
Yeah, well you might like it. Or you might have taste.
Nurrr.
On old age and publishing
In Nottingham with D. This is, in fact, D's laptop.
We ventured into the student bar last night. Utterly overwhelmed by how young all the freshers were. I teach kids who look older than them. Coming to the sad conclusion that I've finally grown out of university.
Was reading the various educational articles in the Times this morning in Beeston (which, amusingly, has as its principle attraction a statue of a beehive and a beekeeper). Astonished and confounded to find used 'curriculums' instead of 'curricula' and two occurrences of GSCEs instead of GCSEs - both in articles on the state of education.
O tempora, o mores.
We ventured into the student bar last night. Utterly overwhelmed by how young all the freshers were. I teach kids who look older than them. Coming to the sad conclusion that I've finally grown out of university.
Was reading the various educational articles in the Times this morning in Beeston (which, amusingly, has as its principle attraction a statue of a beehive and a beekeeper). Astonished and confounded to find used 'curriculums' instead of 'curricula' and two occurrences of GSCEs instead of GCSEs - both in articles on the state of education.
O tempora, o mores.
22 October 2005
Quite Obnoxious
Alan Davies is a wanker.
If he didn't work on early on that the main premise of QI was for him to give the obvious answers that the average person would give, and Stephen Fry to correct him, then he's as thick as he sometimes allows himself to seem.
Bit late to be moaning about it now - note that he hasn't stopped filming the series. Grrr.
Yes, I do worship Stephen. And his brain.
If he didn't work on early on that the main premise of QI was for him to give the obvious answers that the average person would give, and Stephen Fry to correct him, then he's as thick as he sometimes allows himself to seem.
Bit late to be moaning about it now - note that he hasn't stopped filming the series. Grrr.
Yes, I do worship Stephen. And his brain.
16 October 2005
Ophelia begins spinal growth
I asked him.
He rang back (finally), we had a chat about the file I'd emailed him, where I hang my knickers to dry and the fact it's half term next week. As he was about to hang up, I said:
"Just before you go - it's been bugging me all week: why d'you care about what my mother thinks?"
"I don't. It's just the couple of times I've met her... like the time in Safeway, she was a bit..." and he tailed off without really explaining what she was. "But I don't care, no."
Now, that incident he mentioned happened about four or five years ago. It's been preying on his mind that long. Interesting.
Thoughts?
p.s. Yep, all in one sandwich. Tasty.
He rang back (finally), we had a chat about the file I'd emailed him, where I hang my knickers to dry and the fact it's half term next week. As he was about to hang up, I said:
"Just before you go - it's been bugging me all week: why d'you care about what my mother thinks?"
"I don't. It's just the couple of times I've met her... like the time in Safeway, she was a bit..." and he tailed off without really explaining what she was. "But I don't care, no."
Now, that incident he mentioned happened about four or five years ago. It's been preying on his mind that long. Interesting.
Thoughts?
p.s. Yep, all in one sandwich. Tasty.
09 October 2005
Cogitation
Have discovered the best sandwich in the world:
Cheddar
Mustard (French, naturally)
Roquette
Parma ham
Smoked salmon and cream cheese
Surprisingly yummy. Or it was then. Feeling slightly yucky now.
Have been mulling the question of the day over in my mind all day - and inflicting it on various others to see what they think. Jamie thinks Lyull's testing the waters - though what for, we're not sure. My pal the accountant in training reckons he's hung up on the age difference and is trying to reassure himself that it doesn't matter. Flatmate and flatemate's mother think I should ask him. To be fair, there was a lot about age in yesterday's various conversations. Maybe that is what he thinks...
Proposed conversation:
"Why did you bring up my mother having a problem with us?"
"Is there an us?" (He theoretically says)
"..I'd like there to be..." (I theoretically have the backbone to reply)
Hmm.
Cheddar
Mustard (French, naturally)
Roquette
Parma ham
Smoked salmon and cream cheese
Surprisingly yummy. Or it was then. Feeling slightly yucky now.
Have been mulling the question of the day over in my mind all day - and inflicting it on various others to see what they think. Jamie thinks Lyull's testing the waters - though what for, we're not sure. My pal the accountant in training reckons he's hung up on the age difference and is trying to reassure himself that it doesn't matter. Flatmate and flatemate's mother think I should ask him. To be fair, there was a lot about age in yesterday's various conversations. Maybe that is what he thinks...
Proposed conversation:
"Why did you bring up my mother having a problem with us?"
"Is there an us?" (He theoretically says)
"..I'd like there to be..." (I theoretically have the backbone to reply)
Hmm.
08 October 2005
The Lunch of Joy
I stressed this morning. Thought Lyull wasn't coming, as he'd not rung to tell me what time he was pitching up. Despaired and went food shopping, whereupon he rang and left a message with my flatmate. Then I panicked and put on the Kaiser Chiefs.
Lunch was rather pleasant. The veal saltimbocca went to plan - except for the fact he doesn't like potatoes, which is both odd and something I didn't know - and was hailed as a reasonable cook. My painting was also compared to Michelangelo (at least in theme). I didn't mess up or say anything incredibly stupid. Thus, verdict on the afternoon is a definite improvement. Good foundations for future building.
Sigh. Would bloody well help if I could actually get up the nerve to finish the house - or demolish it forever. He did say something odd: can't remember how my mother came up, but he said "I think your mother thinks it's odd that we're still in touch.", to which I replied, "That's her problem." He agreed and said nothing more on it, but I don't understand why he brought it up. Is he worried that she'd disapprove? Is it his way of saying he thinks it's odd? I suppose it is, really. Not many people stay in touch with their sixth form tutors. Even if they do go to the same Oxford college and end up in the same profession.
Not many people are in love with the same man for seven years without telling him.
Lunch was rather pleasant. The veal saltimbocca went to plan - except for the fact he doesn't like potatoes, which is both odd and something I didn't know - and was hailed as a reasonable cook. My painting was also compared to Michelangelo (at least in theme). I didn't mess up or say anything incredibly stupid. Thus, verdict on the afternoon is a definite improvement. Good foundations for future building.
Sigh. Would bloody well help if I could actually get up the nerve to finish the house - or demolish it forever. He did say something odd: can't remember how my mother came up, but he said "I think your mother thinks it's odd that we're still in touch.", to which I replied, "That's her problem." He agreed and said nothing more on it, but I don't understand why he brought it up. Is he worried that she'd disapprove? Is it his way of saying he thinks it's odd? I suppose it is, really. Not many people stay in touch with their sixth form tutors. Even if they do go to the same Oxford college and end up in the same profession.
Not many people are in love with the same man for seven years without telling him.
02 October 2005
Much better.
You're cunning and ambitious, and the type of
person who always achieves their ends, which
makes you a SLYTHERIN! You share the same
house as Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Lord
Voldemort (also known as Tom Riddle).
Which Hogwarts house are you in? (Harry Potter)
brought to you by Quizilla
Not happy about this
The HP Family Quiz made by Sapphire.
Borrowed this idea from Clare. Not happy about being a Potter. Maybe I could be one of the family that goes bad and is sorted into Slytherin?
Tipping the sugar was a bad plan
Feel a bit guilty about moaning about all the effort for open day, now. Die Fuhrerin gave me a bottle of fizziness to show her appreciation. Feel vaguely on top of things at the moment, work-wise. First real year is a definite improvement on being an NQT. Get paid more too. We five FQTFOs (Fully Qualified Teacher - Fuck Off) look upon the new bunch and wonder why they're so stressed.
I picked up a fab book in Books Etc in Covent Garden yesterday. The only Joanne Harris book I've ever read is Chocolat. Her work always seems to revolve around France and food - until this one. Two principle characters: wannabe grammar school boy plotting murder and scandal and near-to-retirement codgerly Latin master. The latter reminds me of the protagonist in Stephen Fry's Hippopotamus: Latin tags, slightly buffoonic and totally unaware of the other side of the plot. Elements of the narrative are quite familiar - it doesn't feel like JH is working from experience here.
Doing Sunday cleaning while the duo are out. Bathroom beginning to feel like a minor realm of hell.
I picked up a fab book in Books Etc in Covent Garden yesterday. The only Joanne Harris book I've ever read is Chocolat. Her work always seems to revolve around France and food - until this one. Two principle characters: wannabe grammar school boy plotting murder and scandal and near-to-retirement codgerly Latin master. The latter reminds me of the protagonist in Stephen Fry's Hippopotamus: Latin tags, slightly buffoonic and totally unaware of the other side of the plot. Elements of the narrative are quite familiar - it doesn't feel like JH is working from experience here.
Doing Sunday cleaning while the duo are out. Bathroom beginning to feel like a minor realm of hell.
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