Madness
2002-11-04 || 6:49 p.m.

I expected to wake up this morning out of my mind with tiredness but I feel strange, oddly floaty, euphoric even. I've had what could best be described as quite a nice day. I got to school just after eight and I was opening a couple of windows, I saw two of my girls in the playground and they were jumping up and down and waving at me, so that made me feel happy and I waved back.

I got all my stuff for an electricity science investigation and, fuck me, it all worked! I had the right number of 1.5v bulbs, all the batteries were fine. Jesus. Amazing.

I have sorted the Bright Eyes situation. The plan now is that we will leave straight after school tomorrow. Get a train to London Bridge and then a train to Brighton. After the show we will get a train back to London Bridge, which will get us there at 12.51 and I have booked a taxi to bring us back to Dartford (at a cost of �40!). It means we won't be home before about 1.30am but what the hell. Never mind.

I'm well looking forward to it.

Rebecca made me laugh today. I probably shouldn't write this, it will embarrass her, but hey! that's my job as a mum.

We got in tonight and the dog was very excited to see us, yes, that kind of excited. He started licking it and Bex was going, 'eurgh, stop him, make him stop, that's disgusting'. I said, 'Gosh, if you suddenly found you had something that just appeared like that wouldn't you want to play with it?' She looked at me as if I were mad and then said quietly, 'no, I'd just wait for it to go away!'.

I'm just waiting for my dinner to be ready. Now if you follow this on a regular basis you should be able to work out from my two week dinner timetable, just exactly what I am going to eat tonight. I know, routine, its a terrible thing, you can tell I'm a primary school teacher.

Yesterday, one of Rebecca's teenage boy friends looked at me incredulously and said, 'Are you really a teacher?' I replied, 'yes, its a frightening thought, isn't it!'

I have something approaching a social life this week. Well, actually on Wednesday evening I am doing something so totally British and middle class. Hmmm, don't know if I should say really.

Whatever could it be?

Ok. The West Dartford Allotment Society Charity quiz. Haha.

Twice a year. One of the best evenings you can have out. Well no, one of the strangest evenings you can have out. We sit in a draughty church hall, at trestle tables (which, incidentally, we have to put away at the end of the evening unless you are really quick off the mark). The quiz meister sits on the stage, looking down at us with her microphone. Now here's a scary thought. She's a retired teacher who, when she retired, ran a guest house for working men!!! Oh my God, is that my fate? The questions and answers are dubious to say the least and she always cocks it up big time. Last time she gave first prize to the wrong team and two teams of old allotment owners started fighting. It was hilarious. Then there was the mobile phone rage incident the time before. I'm not sure, with my inept social graces, that I can take this much excitement.

Present at this great event are many, many faces from my past. It is a truly scary evening. Its ok for Soo, she didn't grow up in this god forsaken town. There are the spooky husband and wife who ran my youth club. Someone either from Church or Guides (you know when you know their face but you can't quite place them). Actually I'm quite jealous of her, she's gone a bit loopy. I'd quite like that. Last time, with her wonderful tact, the woman who runs the quiz took the loopy one over to another team and said, 'oh, you can have her' and shoved her onto a plastic chair. Then there's my primary school teacher.

Bitch.

Yes, the one who threw my clothes behind the piano when I was doing P.E. and when I returned they were nowhere to be seen. I was cold and humiliated. I started to cry. She sat there ignoring me, playing the piano. I cried some more. Everyone else was now dressed. She got annoyed with me and sat me, in my underwear, next to a boy. The fact that I quite liked him was no consolation. The utter humiliation of being sat, at age 10 in your underwear next to a boy. Of course, if I'd have realised these sort of occurrences would be few and far between I'd probably have made the most of it.

My, haven't I rambled on?

What was my underwear crime? I forgot to put my clothes in my desk when I got changed.

Old cow.