This is really a comment on Lissa's blog!
Does this ring any bells? 1979.

I'd got used to little girls coming into nursery with names like Paris, Crystal, Chanel, and so on, but we seem to have the beginnings of a new trend now. Not only did I hear a young Mum address her tiny tot in the shopping centre today as "Norma", but we are welcoming 3 year olds Irene and Cynthia into our new classes. I'm waiting for Shirley, Edna and Joyce next ...

PS. I thought I was joking, but Edna started nursery this week.

We're still admitting children into the nursery at a slow but steady pace.
We do our best to enter into their games and play, but sometimes it's hard to know where their minds are.
We have a wooden box that is a fantasy vehicle, complete with steering wheel, levers and gadgets. One little boy was pretending to drive it. "Where are you driving your car?" I asked brightly. He looked at me in surprise. "It isn't a car. It's my robot 'plane and I'm going to the seaside." I should have known.
On the other hand, being pleasant to a child putting playdough into a patty tin, my colleague asked "Are you making cakes?" and received a very withering look. "No, I'm playing," the child explained patiently.

It was their first day at nursery and they had never met before, but they seem to have become friends already.
Both of them just turned 4 and very bright, they were sharing a story that the one holding the book was "reading" using her knowledge of fairy tales and story language, and using the pictures as clues.
To be fair, had I transcribed it the story would have been rambling, repetitive and pointless, but they really enjoyed it!

My new nursery children were all in today, for the first time. It's my second year in the nursery, so I feel more confident about what I'm doing now, but it's still a nervous morning, before they all arrive. Will I remember their names from the home visits? Will I remember the relevant pieces of information I need to remember?
Although we insist that for the sake of the children settling well, that the mums/dads/carers stay with them for the full hour on this preliminary skirmish in the nursery, this makes it more nerve wracking for us, as we can't really begin to establish what is in effect our pseudo maternal relationships with the children until their real mothers leave.
And oh, but do the parents ever show off! They are determined to demonstrate how bright their little darling is, and insist on them displaying their talents for the teachers; it never works, as the children are too embarassed, and which teacher wants to see what a child will do prompted and urged by mother? We want to see what they do off their own bat; how they choose an activity, set about it, tackle set-backs and problems and learn from what they have done independently.
But this will all happen in due course.
Meanwhile, we had lots of sad faces, some tears and two outright tantrums when we told them it was time to go home, which are all good signs that they'll want to come back again. Soon it will be Goodbye Mummy, and we can begin in earnest!

It was our turn to set the Hash trail today. We recce'd it a couple of weeks ago, and today was the day. Up betimes, partly because Sid was purring in my ear and dabbing at my face with a tentative claw in hopes of breakfast. The weather was kind to us again - don't you just love Indian summers?
I'd forgotten the trail was quite that hilly - lots of long gentle downs that lull you into feeling proud of how fit you are and how easily you can jog along and chat at the same time, interspersed by two very fierce ups. Halfway up the second steep hill, I just knew I was going to regret it later.
When we recce'd the trail, we were rewarded by distant views over rolling countryside, with Canary Wharf and the skyscrapers of the city in the distance. Today the view was lovely, but purely pastoral, as the architectural skyline was shrouded in mist.
A misguided late deviation from our pre-tested trail in a last minute attempt to achieve a more interesting run in than along a busy minor road, which we had to abandon anyway because the footpath was too poorly waymarked, meant we were back at the car only just as the early arrivals began to appear.
A fair turnout gathered, including Mike and Liz, two visitors who were ex-Cairo H3, which was very pleasant, as we had shared acquaintances and memories to enjoy swapping tales of en route.
A few more hours had changed the character of the area. The deserted golf course we skirted at one point was now thronged with golfers, and also skirted by dog-walkers and a couple of riders out for a hack. The first steep hill saw off other company for a while, but when we reached Woldingham a few car washers were up and about.
The second steep drag loomed - at which point Ed decided to lead the back markers along the flatter short-cut, so he would be back at the carpark before the front runners. Traitor! So I struggled up my 4th unforgiving slope of the day, the lower reaches of which was now full of horsey types practising for next week's point-to-point.
Dave was also finding the hills a trial, so we caught our breaths at the top together and ambled back through the woods at a gentle pace. We were soon joined by the walking contingent and after a few drinks - and a hurry-up from the Sainsbury's manager who thought we were spending too long in his carpark - we adjourned to the Hare and Hounds beer garden for a few more!

After our Hen Party back in June, it's become clear that it wasn't only the adults who over-indulged! Phyllis herself claims it was no such thing and these were planned additions to her family, but I'm not so sure.

Anyway, here are Phyllis and her chicks, Joyce and Philip.

Well, OK, so he did have his shirt buttoned up, and it was at a book signing in Woolworths, not on a beach, but it WAS David Hasselhoff in person, AND he was looking me in the eye as we exchanged pleasantries. OK, so I burbled and he was pleasant, but all the same!

The fortuitous Thursday off gave me the chance to "meet" the guy that Rick and I used to watch every week without fail when he starred in Knight Rider. Rick WAS Knight Rider, driving the car and being Michael Knight - I just enjoyed the view. I told the Hoff that today, he laughed and said he was glad we enjoyed those shows as he'd had a lot of fun doing them. (I told you he was pleasant.) And that was about the sum of it really. I don't suppose I made much of an impression on him, but he made my day. He certainly looked good for his age - I wouldn't have said no. According to a recent interview he's on the lookout for an intelligent British girlfriend while he's over here. Unfortunately he mentioned beautiful as well as intelligent... Never mind.

We've spent the last 3 days trekking around our nursery catchment area like Jehovah's witnesses - in pairs, knocking on doors with smiles pinned to faces - on our home visits to our new intake of children. This is a very valuable activity.
We get to see exactly where the children are coming from and discover that an address in itself is not much of a guide; three houses in the same road can include a little palace, a dump and something in between. And size doesn't much matter when it comes to identifying child friendly homes.
We also find out exactly who lives at home - both or only one parent and how welcome and familiar is any non resident parent. And how supportive; touchy; knowledgeable; protective; defensive; educated, etc etc, is the on site parent.
It also gives the children a couple of familiar faces and names to hold on to when they arrive in the nursery, having first met us on their home territory.
And last but not least it gives us a chance to go over the nursery policies and rules with the parents, so when something happens they don't like, we can say "Well we did tell you at the home visit..."
So far we have met lots of lovely little children and have been able to make our initial assessments. My partner and I work well as a team: I talk to the parent, keeping an eye and ear on the child, and she reads a story and talks to the child, keeping an eye and ear on the parent. We have signals - for example if she thinks the child's language seems poor, she'll ask "When is your birthday?" I will then check that it isn't August (in which case it's a very young child so allowances can be made) and listen more carefully to child, and ask parent more insistently if they have any concerns.
So far we've met several bilingual and EAL children, with some completely new to English, which has tested my bad French and my partner's rusty Portuguese and had us smiling and gesturing broadly over our book of photos to the other linguists.
It's quite tiring - we are busy concentrating and absorbing as much information as we can, at the same time as trying to project ouselves as friendly and supportive, whilst talking full pelt to say all we need to, and not to mention the actual walking between homes.
Anyway, we are half way. We have three more days of visits next week,and then the first children start to arrive on Friday!

Normally we read "The Independent" newspaper, but on a Sunday I buy the "Telegraph" because a) I like doing the Griddler puzzle, and b) I really like the "Seven" magazine. I pretty well read it from cover to cover, but head first to Sandi Toksvig's column, as she always makes me smile and I so often agree with her.
This week was no exception. She described how December 31st always leaves her cold, with as much regretful looking back as optimistic looking forward; but how 1st September brings on that feeling of a new year, a new beginning and growing up and making headway in life, because it is the start of the academic year, when we all as children were promoted to the next class and got a fresh start.
I agree entirely. The feeling is compounded in me because firstly I was an expat for years, and came home for the summer and went back to start the new overseas year come September, and secondly of course because I now work in education.
Although I don't get promoted to the next class, the new class gets promoted to me and we start again to teach the new intake what last year's class now know.
Today we had our inset day with our new interim Head Teacher, who seems friendly and supportive, and tomorrow we get started on the first home visits to meet our new nursery children.
So it's the start of the cycle, and all seems fresh and promising - a blank sheet to fill and look forward to.
So, Happy New Year to you all!

I've been immersed in geanealogy this weekend, updating my illustrated text file on the large group I call "The Others."
Many years ago, I was contacted by a genial old Canadian guy called Harold Locking, who was convinced that everyone who bears this fairly rare surname must be related. I gently pointed out that, for instance, every village had a blacksmith, so people called Smith aren't related, and we shouldn't really expect Lockings to be any different.
But he was undetered, and to give him his due, we did find that he and I were related; and before he returned to Canada he had got about half a dozen quite large family groups of Lockings sorted out.
30 years later, I'm still finding that most of the Lockings I come across anywhere in the world can be connected to one of those half dozen groups. Some smaller groups have attached themselves to a larger tree; other small separate groups have emerged.
I belong to the largest tree - with members in all corners of Britain, Canada, the USA and the antipodes - so although my One Name Study encompasses all Lockings, they are the ones I try hardest to find and extend.
But these last couple of days I've been updating the second largest grouping, also with proven descent from the Lincolnshire marshes, but stubbornly refusing to join the main gang. So I call them "The Others." They are growing nicely as a bunch, and I'm gradually adding more stories to the names, to add flesh to their bones.
Go and look - most of them are here: My Illustrated Locking Website If we are related, do tell me!