I have suddenly been receiving a flurry of emails asking for advice in dating people's wedding dresses. This must be the latest feedback from my webpage A History of Wedding Dresses I made this webpage years ago, and have had a steady trickle of response - brides sending pictures of their own dresses, students asking for reading and source tips, even a magazine including some of it in one of their issues - but now these dating queries. I've had about 4 in the last fortnight. I'm quite enjoying being seen as an expert...

That's all the nearly 4 dozen reports written, complete with next steps. I am patting myself on the back and breathing sighs of relief and looking forward to the rest of half-term with only pleasure (once I've rescued the house from 5 inches of dust and restocked my wardrobe with ironed clothing, naturally).

you could change the endings of some of your favourite books, so it doesn't end up with you surreptitiously sniveling into a tissue every time? Yes, I know it's the predictable happy endings that make Hollywood films so banal, but wouldn't it be nice if there were to be a lovely surprise on the last page and, in the case uppermost in my mind at the moment, having just finished "The Amber Spyglass" (Please look away here if you haven't read it and intend to)

Lyra and Will end up happily ever after with Pantalaimon and Kirjava?

We had an inset day of feedback from our school wellbeing survey today, which my fellow facilitator and I led. We have had some difficult issues in our school over the last 3 years, which has led to a general air of unhappiness in the staff, with different cliques not pulling together and so on.
A new bone of contention had arisen and caused distress only this week, so my FF and I were feeling somewhat aprehensive, in case feedback of what we don't like about the school turned into a general bitching session with personalities drawn in and all ending in tears.
Luckily, we had a network meeting with the Worklife people Thursday afternoon, so we were able to pick up some very timely advice.
And, wow, did it go well. We gave people a chance to take in the good feedback as well as the rougher stuff, and threw in some light relief and chocolate biscuits at opportune moments, and the result was people talked to each other with a view to sorting things out rather than scoring points, and we ended up sharing an extremely pleasant lunch and some very positive ideas for moving forward as a team.
Lots of people said what a fruitful, friendly morning it had been. So FF and I are giving ourselves a pat on the back and hoping for the best.

Students may well feel aggrieved that some of the finest weather of the year is wasted as they have to stay in and do revision. Well, pity the poor teacher who has to stay in and write reports.
I've done 30, and have another 16 still to do, not to mention a note about our new little girl, who arrived fresh from Albania last week. My brain is going numb.
The worst thing is that here am I sweating over each individual one, sincerely trying to say where they are on the educational scale and I'll bet most of the parents will just want to know that they've settled and are happy. Luckily, they are. Nor do they appreciate how seriously we take our work. We are routinely still at work at 5.30, and often 6pm, having arrived before 8am, yet a mother who popped back at 4pm the other afternoon to get a hat she'd forgotten was surprised to find us still in school - "Thought you'd be out of the gate by 3.30", she said, and wasn't joking.
Luckily it rained yesterday and today, so I didn't miss much!

P.S. We did find time yesterday to go and see "The Da Vinci Code." Now I know there has been an inordinate amount of hype about the film and preceding book, but is there a conspiracy amongst church goers to stop people going to see it on the grounds of it being over long and dull? because we thought it was gripping, even though we knew how it ended. A great afternoon's entertainment.

No, this wasn't me - my embarrassing medical check of the day was my first mammogram (having reached the age when they send for you for such things) - but it seemed sort of apt for that sort of thing:

I was due for an appointment with the gynaecologist later in the week. Early one morning, I received a call from the doctor's to tell me that I had been rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am. I had only just packed everyone off to work and school, and it was already around 8:45am. The trip to the surgery took about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare. As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort. So, I rushed upstairs, wet the washcloth that was sitting next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in 'that area' to make sure I was at least presentable. I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some clothes, hopped in the car andr aced to my appointment. I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a million miles away. I was a little surprised when the doctor said, "My, we have made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?" I didn't respond. After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home. The rest of the day was normal ... some shopping, cleaning, cooking, etc. After school when my 6 year old daughter was playing, she called out from the bathroom, "Where's my washcloth?" I told her to get another one from the cupboard. She replied, "No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my glitter and sparkles saved inside it."

Today I did the Race for Life in Croydon, with my friend Irene. Here we are before the start. We were part of a team from our school - we all decided to raise some money because our Deputy Head and friend Arlene is battling breast cancer at the moment, and we wanted to show our support. And do something together.

Most of the girls walked. Irene hated running, but decided that she would train and set herself the challenge to run all the way round, and that I as the experienced runner (!) would help her. Which is what happened. We had a pleasant morning - the weather was cool and overcast, but dry and calm, perfect running weather. We met up with the others for group photo (not shown here) and aerobic warm-up, then off we went. Irene and I jogged the whole way round, and came home in 38 minutes. Kate P followed soon after, having combined jogging with walking, and the rest walked home a bit later.

Last time I uploaded proper pics, of the prehistoric sites we visited in Kent, I ran out of space putting in the last one. I noticed today though that my "media" list is actually different from the photos that appear in the blog, and that the final, apparently bounced, one of me sitting on Lower Kit's Coty House (fallen down) appears there. So how did that happen? Who Knows? But have a glance at LKCH if you'd like to. And me in a skirt for the first time since last September.

After 40 long hours in the factory
Just when the week's work were all done
A glum Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Were talking of Albert their son.

I'm rightly concerned for his future
Something will have to be done
He's becoming a big couch potato
With two chins and a sticky out bum.

We must find him an exciting new hobby
That'll keep him all healthy and fit
He'll be slim, hard and virile not blobby
Like Mrs Arkwright's fat git.

A week later they stood in a car park
Young Albert was turned out a treat
With his Hash House Harriers T shirt
And new Nike shoes on his feet.

There were some folk dressed up in lycra
And a funny assortment of dogs
They jogged up and down and did stretches
And even used bushes for bogs.

Then they were all brought together
By a Hasher they called the GM
And there was a hare all covered in flour
But no one took no notice of him.

With a cry of On on they were off
It seemed they were all raving mad
Hashers with dogs jumping high over logs
And a man in pink shorts now that's sad.

Albert's T shirt soon became sweaty
His Nikes impregnated with muck
He'd nettled his bum and was crying for Mum
When he had a real stroke of bad luck.

He was crossing a delicate footbridge
While others were wading it seemed
When he slipped on a frog hit his head on a log
And his corpse floated off down the stream.

The Albert-less pack returned shortly
The Ramsbottoms well into pub grub
They stared in dismay when they heard GM say
We'd best return young Albert's sub.

The hashers were quite nice about it
The insurers were called right away
Saying how much to settle the matter
Pa said How much do you normally pay?

But Mother had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone
Saying, No, someone's got to be summoned
So that was decided upon.

Now let's look on the bright side said Father
What can't be helped must be endured
Every cloud has a silver lining
With the Hash our Albert's insured.

Pa was getting his head round the money
When a sight at the door they did see
Ma cried Hey up, it's our Albert
Pa said glumly Aye it would be.

Pa asked Albert what had happened
As he went pale and felt very low
I floated a long way said the youngster
I let myself go with the flow.

The Hashers were now very happy
To the Ramsbottoms they were right warm
Pa said Let's not be too hasty
I'll hang on to that accident form.

Pa gave Albert such a strange look
Ma wondered what he was up to
His eyes took a squint that changed to a glint
Saying, Let's see what City Hash can do.

By "Vulcan"

As someone commented about Frank-o-Fyle, my blogs are arriving like buses - none at all then 3 in a row. Oh well, I'm suddenly feeling loquacious. It may be something to do with displacement activity because I'm supposed to be starting writing my reports... well, I've "done" Lucy for starters, and now my brain hurts.
We made good use of the glorious sunshine yesterday and went out in search of prehistoric Kent. First we went to Addington Circular Stones.

It isn't really a stone circle, but the remnants of kerbstones of a longbarrow. It has definitely seen better days - apparently some of the stones were used to make the lane that cuts through it. There is a more impressive monument (The Chestnuts) right nearby, but it's on private land, and the owner was too busy to let us in to see it. So we moved on to Trotiscliffe (pronounced Trosley - don't you love English?) to see Coldrum.

We loved Coldrum. Here it is from the far end of the barrow, looking towards the denuded entrance door, which faces the Medway valley stretching out below it.

Here's the megalith forming one side of the doorway, showing the vantage point over the valley.

The lintel stone has been lost.

I don't know if this is big enough to see the ribbons tied to the trees on the site. I'm presuming they are prayer ribbons of some sort - perhaps any Pagan amongst my readers could help.
Anyway, we thought the whole site was wonderful and the views from it stunning.

The last site had the best name - Little Kit's Coty.

This is just off the Pilgrims' Way, an ancient footpath that Chaucer's pilgrims used on their way to Canterbury, so you can imagine them possibly seeing this impressive dolmen. In real life, Samuel Pepys certainly saw it, and was "mightily glad" to have done so, even though it was not so big as Stonehenge!
And we finished off with Lower Kit's Coty House, another rather sad site. The "Countless Stones" - its alternative name - have all fallen over and are easily countable; so I didn't, just to retain the mystique. I would have given you a picture anyway, but I've run out of space for today!

One morning a husband returns after several hours of fishing and decides to take a nap. Although not familiar with the lake, his wife decides to take the boat out.
She motors out a short distance, drops anchor and begins to read her book.
Along comes a gamekeeper in his boat. He pulls up alongside the woman and says,
"Good morning, ma'am. What are you doing?"
"Reading a book," she replies.
"You're in a restricted fishing area," he informs her.
"I'm sorry, Officer, but I'm not fishing, I'm reading."
"Yes, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment. I'll have to take you in and write you up."
"If you do that, I 'll have to charge you with sexual assault,"says the woman.
"But I have not even touched you," says the gamekeeper.
"That's true, but you have all the equipment. For all I know you could start at any moment."
"Have a nice day, ma'am," he said, and left.

Well I excercised my right to vote this morning, as I always do, on the same sort of principal as I always finish the food on my plate if I've put it there - there're women in Afghanistan who would give their eye teeth for what I take for granted. And in fact, although it's slipping into the realms of history now, I have personally known English women who were alive at a time when women couldn't vote here - women of my own grandmother's generation.
So I went to do my democratic duty in our local elections. I can't say I know very much about what's going on locally, except Croydon Council made a pig's ear of the education budget, and we are one of the worst areas in the country for recycling.
No-one had taken much interest in my vote. We received only one pamphlet through the door, telling me about the candidates for a political party I have never voted for in my life.
So we went to the polling station and collected our cards, and I thought rather briefly before putting my 3 crosses in place. The reasoning was random. I voted for the one Green Party candidate, on the grounds I do care about recycling, and want to protect the woodland around our house. I voted for the only candidate who actually lives in Kenley, our ward. And I voted for one candidate who represents the party I usually support. So there they were, votes for 3 different political parties (including one representing a party I had never previously voted for in my life).
It just goes to show that a) local politics aren't quite the same as national politics, and b) I have no expectation of being dragged from my bed and shot out of hand for not supporting a particular power group.
By the way, my Grandma was not, as far as I know, a suffragette, and I know that in later life she refrained from voting, as did Grandad, because they knew their votes would "cancel each other out." She was, however, sacked from a job in a laundry back in 1920, for calling her colleagues out on strike for the right to belong to a Trade Union. Which may account for me being our school NASUWT rep - but that's another story.

Obviously I've stolen this (from an EGH3 hash trash actually) but I thought it was interesting.

You are driving down the road in your car on a wild, stormy night, when you
pass by a bus stop and you see three people waiting for the bus:

1. An old lady who looks as if she is about to die.
2. An old friend who once saved your life.
3. The perfect partner you have been dreaming about.

Which one would you choose to offer a ride to, knowing that there could only be one passenger in your car? This is a moral/ethical dilemma that was once actually used as part of a job application.
You could pick up the old lady, because she is going to die, and thus you should save her first. Or you could take the old friend because he once saved your life, and this would be the perfect chance pay him back. However you may never be able to find your perfect mate again.