I dropped in to see my favourite aunty this week. Lovely Aunty Margaret. She was in fine fettle. But, the 89 year old minx feels she is being stalked by her randy, bearded brother-in-law, Norman (a mere slip of a lad at 79).
'Elizabeth. He comes round every Monday morning at 10 o'clock, without fail. He knows, he knows that is when I do my washing.'
"But why, why does he come round then Aunty Margaret?'
'It's obvious. He wants to look at my knickers on the clothes horse. I've seen him. He ogles them. That is the only word for it, the filthy beast!'
Indeed, I have seen Aunty Margaret's 'smalls' on the clothes horse and it IS difficult to avert your eyes. I have renamed them the Great Smalls of China, as they are so vast and voluminous they are visible from outer space. In fact, really, they would be better aired on a Trojan horse, rather than a clothes horse. Still, I really shouldn't mock. I am partial to a pair of big knickers myself, I think most women are.
Aunty Margaret isn't the only one with man issues. I was asked on a date this week, by someone I do really like. And, no, it wasn't the Godless Glaswegian Fireman. I have also been 'talking' with a man closer to home, a financial adviser. Maybe God is sending me not what I want, but what I desperately need - someone to help me budget!
This rogue reminds me, in lots of ways, of Senor Boldon. He does Jiu Jitsu, which is apparently some form of martial art where semi clothed men roll around on an Axminster carpet together. When he described this an image of Alan Bates and Oliver Reed in Women in Love cheekily popped into my mind. You may recall the 2 thesps stripped nekked as a couple of swarthy jaybirds and wrestled each other in front of a roaring fire. Anyway, this chap seems very nice and normal: good job, steady, does a very good Cary Grant impersonation. He seems, compared to Rochester and his chaotic and flaky ways, very grown up. For the purposes of the blog he shall be known as Cash and Carry. I think C&C also reminds me of the burger baron as he is quite taciturn and reserved. Given my loathing of gratingly cheerful, loud men, that is a good thing.
I must add - my Hollywood Men system has proved to be 100% successful in recent trials. I gave both Cash and Carry and McF the list of vintage stars and asked them to choose which they identified most with. In my mind I had already pigeon-holded the fireman as an Errol Flynn and C&C as a Humphrey Bogart (slightly introverted and brooding, just like Senor Boldon). Well. Wouldn't you know it? I was correct on both counts. I am beginning to think I could set up my own dating agency using this system. Maybe I could go on Dragons' Den to do a pitch? I can picture the advertising:
Are you a Monroe searching for your Clift?
A Marlena searching for her Marlon?
A Bacall wanting to pick her Bogey?
Anyway. I have made some excuses about the date, saying I do want to go but not just yet. The thought of a first date is just terrifying. I will do it, he seems so nice (and handsome). I need a bit more time to get used to the idea and to find out a bit more about him.
So. I am now looking mournfully at the ashes of my half term break. I was supposed to be planning next week's lessons today, but instead squeezed in a final nap. I shall try to get maths plans done tonight. I could just rehash a previous week's plan. We tackled units of time at the end of half-term: days of the week, months of the year etc. After a whole week on this topic we had a little quiz.
Question 1 (to Forrest)
What is the 5th month of the year?
Question 2 (to Sienna)
Tell me a day of the week that starts with the letter 'T'.
Question 3 (to Cerise)
Which is a longer unit of time, a second or a week?
Dear God! I love my class, but they really are the daftest children I have ever met. Teaching them is like trying to teach a snake to juggle.