INSET for teachers - Staffordshire or Spain?

Dad sent me an email with a link to this article yesterday. It tells of the staff of a technology college in Staffordshire who had decided that they really must do their next INSET training in sunny Spain, at a hotel which just happens to be fully equipped with poolside bar, Turkish baths and casino, so off they planned to go for four fun-filled (sorry, work-filled) days whilst their pupils stayed at home with homework tasks.
Not surprisingly, parents, pupils and the wider community are somewhat less than impressed by this and are not at all convinced by the head teacher's argument that, actually, it works out cheaper than hiring a conference centre in this country. Now, that's the bit I take issue with. Why, in the name of fortune can they not hold their INSET in their own school? Theirs is a technology college, which means that they have ample facilities for the planning they need to do and they don't even have to sit scrunched up on mini chairs like we poor primary teachers do! No, I'm afraid I have no sympathy with them at all and I'm quite pleased that today, thanks to a rising tide of adverse publicity, they have now decided to cancel the trip.
And I'm not even going to START on how much easier a time secondary teachers have their primary colleagues...;)

What can I see?

I found this meme on Yorkshire Pudding's site this morning and decided to have a go myself. So now I need to pick five things I can see around me as I type, five things which are meaningful to me in one way or another.

Directly in front of me are the photos of Elder and Younger Daughters when they received their degrees and of Elder Son, who is in the Royal Engineers receiving an award after a tour in Iraq. Proud moments for us all.

Sadly, no photo of Younger Son, but that's another story. However, through the archway, in the dining area, I can see a photo of my granddaughter when she was three.

My bureau now sits in the space previously occupied by NASA. I bought it years ago from Waring and Gillow, a furniture shop in Liverpool, in the days when I was giving my all to teaching with all that entailed! Perhaps it serves now as a happy reminder that those days are over.

On the mantlepiece is a blue glass dolphin ornament, of no great monetary value, but it belonged to my mum, who died in 2001 and so, to me it is precious.

On top of the bureau is a scale model of a Hornby Dublo Caledonian steam engine. You wouldn't have found this in the shops in bygone years as it was designed by Keith's dad but never put into production. He not only designed it, but made it from scratch. Even the box was designed and produced solely by him.

So if you would like to have a go at this, feel free. But be warned, it can lead to an inadvertent and thought-provoking trip down Memory Lane!

Working on Sunday

Well, now that I'm not teaching five days a week, I don't mind it at all. In fact, some weeks ago, I suggested to Keith that one way of selling the smaller stock from the shop, and to do some key cutting too, would be to go to a car boot sale and it happens that there is a huge one not far from us at Chirk airfield. It means getting up at five in the morning as it starts at six but that's all-right. It's lovely being up at the crack of dawn on a lovely summer morning. Of course, the more observant among you will recognise that this year, we have had precious few of those and although the weather was indeed fine yesterday, time is marching on, days are shortening and so we found ourselves arriving and unpacking in the dark. Now you would think that any potential customers with any sense would wake up at 5.30am, notice that it was still dark and turn over to go back to sleep. You would be wrong. You would be amazed at how many people were wandering around as we were setting out our wares in the hope of being the early bird who got the worm. Mind you, they had recognised that it could be difficult actually seeing what was available, so most were equipped with torches and a fair few were even wearing special ones strapped to their heads. Now that's what I call dedication.

Selling houses

I visited the estate agents again the other day, just to remind them that I had asked for some extra information on our 'for sale' board and so far, nothing had happened.

"Ah yes," said the nice man. It was the same one I had dealt with before. Did I imagine the fleeting expressions of 'Oh no, she's back again!' followed by the professional smile of welcome with a hint of anxiety lurking in the eyes?

"We do ask the firm that does the boards for us and sometimes they don't do it, so we have to ask them again. I'll do it now." And he tapped away on his keyboard.

So, yesterday the board was amended:

Estate agents do have a sense of humour - it's official!

Unwelcome intruders!

Last year, I was given an extremely useful present. It was a spray called Spiderstop and, as you would imagine, the idea is that you spray it around any places like doorways, windows etc to deter the wretched arachnids from coming in. The olfactory message that they receive is something along the lines of "Get lost! You're not welcome here, mate! Enter at your peril! We would rather have snakes, mice, rats or scorpions than you!"
Last year it worked very well and my blood pressure was completely untroubled by any of them. This year, it has worked well until now. Two night in a row the corner of my eye has caught movement of a black and scrabbly nature by the fireplace - yes, on each occasion a spider doing a clog dance and probably shouting "Yah! Catch me if you can, loser!" Apparently, they don't all get the message and leg it through the window or door anyway.
Well, I did - catch it, I mean - each time. I have developed a new strategy which involves a mad dash into the kitchen for the fly spray while Keith keeps his beady eye on the creature's whereabouts, followed by a prolonged spraying of said fly spray in its general direction, because by this time, it has gone to ground under the heap of cables behind the TV stand, followed by a good stamping on it as it craftily emerges from behind the armchair, thinking it has thrown us off the track. The first night Keith did the stamping, to the detriment of his tender feet, so he can't do it any more. Which, in itself is a bit of a disappointment. After all, what does one have a man in the house for except to kill spiders?
(Maybe you'd better not answer that!)

Ebay fever

A couple of years ago, I signed up to Ebay to buy some counselling books for my courses and very profitable it was too. I picked up quite a few bargains, not just books either. This Ebay lark can get so addictive if you're not careful.
This year, I have some books to sell, so once again I turned to Ebay, this time as a seller and I have to admit, it's quite exciting - the thrill of the sale and all that. I've sold just over half of what I put up for sale so the rest will be relisted and I have spent a couple of hours packaging the items ready for the post on Monday. Of course there was also the handbag that I sneakily and successfully bid for in the meantime, but we'll gloss over that. I won't do it again, honest!

Keep it in the family

Elder Daughter told me on the phone that, as well as being an overworked, exhausted, but job-satisfied registrar now in a hospital Somewhere in Yorkshire, she is also an honorary clinical senior lecturer. Apparently this means that she will be lecturing medical students, which is a salutary reminder to me of how time is racing by, as it seems like only last week that she was one of those herself.
But it also shows how that teaching bug is securely embedded in the genes - ya just can't escape it! Let's hope she enjoys it. Maybe the difference will be that she is teaching young adults who are there by choice....