You did what, Darling?!

It's like something out of a fiction;

Two discs containing the bank details, dates of birth, national insurance numbers and addresses of 25million UK citizens have been lost in the post. God bless the Royal Mail. Actually, they probably sent the discs using some flash, secure postal service. Well, that was a mistake! Let's be honest, the discs were a mistake. Who does that?!

Nobody knows who has the two password-protected discs. In fact, the passwords are probably the same. One alphanumeric code stands between a potentially very smug fraudster and the personal funds of every British family with children under 16. How safe do we feel?

It is more than a little alarming that the Government can't be trusted with our personal information. Made worse by the fact that the only advice they can offer is, 'monitor your bank accounts.' Sorry Alistair Darling, I'm going to need a little more reassurance than that! And while the government sort it out, can we replace Darling with a chancellor with a more ballsy name like, Dick Dontmesswithmycountrymen?

I just hope they find the discs. This is one slip-of-the-hand the government need to rectify pretty sharpish or there might be a revolution of Guy Fawkesian proportions!

Teeny Little Superguy

This little 5 year-old, Riquelme Marciel from Brazil, ran into a burning house dressed as Spiderman and rescued a baby girl.

While playing with his friend in the garden, he noticed smoke coming from the windows of a nearby house. The little superhero then ran to the house to tell the baby's mother who was too afraid to go into the burning building herself.

So, just like any superhero, Riquelme decided to brave the flames to rescue the damselette in distress. With a simple instruction to the baby's mother, 'Don't cry, don't scream because I'm going to save baby Andrielle,' he disappeared into the smoke. Brave kid. Apparently minutes later both baby and rescuer were safely outside in the fresh air and reunited with mum.

Riquelme is the talk of his home town and has said he now wants to become a firefighter and save more lives. Talk about pursuing your dreams from an early age!

My 'one good deed for the day' usually involves remembering to recycle the milk carton, or holding the door open for someone. Man, I need to get more creative!

Remember, remember

It's the 5th of November and if there's one move you must watch once the fireworks are over, make it V for Vendetta.


"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition! The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."

he's got the whole world

My brain is still throbbing from yesterday's science lesson. We were learning about the Earth and beyond. Sure, we had perhaps too much fun pretending to be planets in orbit. But, wow. It's just...HUGE. Seriously, I can physically feel my brain struggling to try and grasp the vastness of the universe. Impossible. Gravity, motion, seasons, tides, years. It's mind-blowing.

But, for me, the most amazing thing is this: that all this occurs because God has made it so. I believe in a God who knows exactly how many grains of sand there are on this planet, and how many more stars there are in the whole universe, 'cuz he flung them there! And He knows how many hairs are on my head, and knows how I sat in my science lesson and smiled with awed amazement. I may not be allowed to 'teach' that in school, but when I do teach this aspect of science, it will be with care, excitement and wonder. Who knows, it might be contagious!

can i make the weather?

Now, why would they show us this in our first few weeks of teacher training?

I have come to a frightening conclusion.
I am the decisive element in the classroom.
It is my personal approach that creates the climate.
It is my daily mood that makes the weather.
As a teacher I possess tremendous power to make
a child’s life miserable or joyous.
I can be a tool of torture or
an instrument of inspiration.
I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.
In all situations it is my response that decides
whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated,
and a child humanized or de-humanized.

— Dr. Haim G. Ginott

*gulp*

It's pretty scary. It's pretty inspiring. It's a challenge. I can work with that.
Lemme in that classroom! I don't want to be held responsible for any child who grows up hating school because they were bored, or bullied, or struggling, or distracted.

Long gone are my undergrad days when all the responsibility I had was to drink enough coffee to stay awake long enough for essay hand-in after pulling an all-nighter. As much as I might want to stay home, bake, watch movies, play music and generally English about, I can't. Sometimes it makes me huff and puff (it's very un-ladylike) but mostly I just want to get it right.

I can't wait to be a teacher.

Tomorrow's Game

Here's my *salute* to the written off England rugby team who have fought back and convinced us that they do stand a chance in the World Cup final tomorrow night. It's gunna be a nail-biter! And there might even be a little bit of history-making, too!

RugbyWorldCup.com

England Rugby

England's World Cup Victory 2003

Jonny Wilkinson's Rugby Column

Around the World in 13 Years

Yesterday, I was watching This Morning and came across the most awesome story. I can't believe I'd never heard of this until now!

Jason Lewis was interviewed on the show, just 24hours after arriving back in Greenwich from his 13-year adventure around the world. He and his good friend, Steve Smith, set off from Greenwich Meridian in July 1994, on a mission to circumnavigate the globe using human power alone. Yep, that means no motor-powered vehicles. No trains, no planes, no cars. Only walking, cycling, roller-blading, and pedalling in a specially designed boat. Steve and Jason parted company in Hawaii in 1998, and Jason carried on. He has overcome crocodile attack, a hit-and-run which left him with two broken legs, and being tormented by pirates, among other things. But he's made it!

The adventure was not solely a thrill-seeker's dream, but it was intended to educate children about geography, travel, and ecology. The guys involved have spoken in hundreds of schools and Steve Smith has written a book about the leg of the trip that he was involved in.

It's an amazing achievement! Read all about Expedition360 at the website, here.

Get interested in the world and how amazing it is!

Here a blog, there a blog...

Creating a blog presents you with one of those strange situations where you find yourself slightly torn. Let's be honest, we write blogs because we think there's something to say (there quite often isn't) but, when it comes to people reading it, that's a little awkward. It's quite personal, and for a brief moment you suddenly realise, 'People are going to be reading about my thoughts, experiences and ideas, and that's a bit creepy.' Yet, when you write and write and realise that, actually, no one is reading, that's very disheartening.

Anyway, there's no escaping it now. I have a newborn ICT blog - course requirement - and everyone can see my other blogs. I wonder what'll happen...

It has been quite a while since I last posted. My intro placement seems like a million years ago, now. They cram so much into this course that I feel like i've been here forever. It has been great, though. My teaching group are lovely, a real mixed bag and the tutors, though all slightly nutty, are excellent! So far I've examined woodlice, sung cheesy French songs, read kids books aloud to a group of adults, and been thoroughly terrified every Wednesday morning - Maths lesson! I'm still smiling and I just can't wait to be back in school again. Lemme at 'em! All I need is minds for moulding...

**Spot that film quote!**

The Friday Collapse

I have done two weeks on Primary placements and I'm already exhausted! This year will be the making of me!

Totternhoe was lovely. I am so attached to my little 3/4 class that I'd like very much to go back and just be a classroom assistant with them. What sweeties!

Swaythling Primary has been a totally different experience but it was fab. Wow, I have never seen kids so intent on physically hurting each other! And with no apparent reason! But aside from the slightly difficult characters, I had a super time learning lots about the demands of the curriculum, the need for every child to be treated differently and the absolute necessity of an LSA! And the kids were generally lovely and I was honestly a little sad to leave this afternoon. Big hugs all round from the dear little year 2s!

So, since I last blogged, I've got up early, taught French, weeded an environmental area, almost cried when a kid finally grasped counting in 10s, and battled with the more humorous nicknames which my last name can produce! So, it's going great.

I start my course next week. Monday, in fact. EEEEK! To add to my stress, I haven't got a landline, internet or (more importantly) housemates at home! This bites! What's more, Student Loans are being picky picky and evidently want me to live on chick peas until at least December, and to top it all off, my laptop intermittently gives up trying and just whirrs for a while before cutting out. Gosh, there's never a dull moment!

Well, that's me. This next year's going to be a test. Heck, the summer was a test. I don't feel entirely prepared but I know this is where I want to be and what I want to be doing. So, I guess then that your support, prayers, hugs, letters, homemade baked delights and slightest fleeting thoughts would be most appreciated!

Love y'all xx

Polly Pocket: The Revenge

I'll set the scene:

My little sister comes over to me at the piano as I'm mid-song and works the Puss In Boots magic on me. You know, the huge glistening eyes and drooping bottom lip? I'm sure there were violins involved.

"Becky, pleeease will you play Polly Pocket with me? None of the boys will and they're not even doing anything important."

How could I refuse? So I settle down for a game of Polly Pocket. It involves American accents and a lot of accessorizing, but it's not so bad. Minutes later, Jed appears and asks to play. Kizzy, far surpassing her older brothers in kindness and forgiveness, agrees to let him join in.

It was a mistake. What had begun as the Pollys having a girly sleepover and fashion show, became combat girls night. Jed's 'Polly' got into a hair-raising car chase on the way to the party and ended up on the central reservation of the motorway. The other Pollys had to mourn briefly before seeking revenge on the hit-and-run driver and excersising their kung fu skills.

It made me giggle anyway. It happens with most games in our house. The presence of 5 teenage boys means that nothing stays calm for long. I bet you've never played Combat Scrabble...

Britain's Got Talent

There’s the weirdos, wannabes, time-wasters and mislead mummy’s babies.
But there’s also a lot of real, genuine British talent. Cornershop, bin man, single parent, primary school, self-taught, hard working, any talent real stars:

An unassuming guy from Carphone Warehouse who was bullied at school knocks everyone’s socks off with ‘Nessum Dorma.’ There were more than a few tears.

Six year old Conny with a killer smile reduces grown men to a powerless, speechless mess by singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow.’

A middle-aged Average Joe carries off hilarious impersonations honouring the memory of his Parkinsons suffering, ex-comedian father.

Twenty-seven dancers of all ages, races, sexes and sexualities bring spirit, life, soul, unity and real talent to Britain.

A young guy with a love and amazing skill for baton twirling follows his dream in the face of his parent’s disapproval and at the risk of mockery, and he is sensational.

A singer-songwriter provokes tears with his voice, guitar and painful, raw emotion at the loss of his brother and love for his orphaned niece and nephew.

A funny young man with a dancing monkey puppet, Michael Jackson music and a dream to perform for the Queen gets a “super entertaining” from Simon Cowell.

A jewellery shop employee and self-taught break dancer destroys the stage with amazing dance moves.

And that’s just a few of them. This is a real, real talent show. Anyone, any age, any background is allowed their chance. It’s the best of British. Sure, there are some complete loons, but for the most part it’s genuine, undiscovered talent. The chance to shine, opened to all. It’s touching and entertaining and deeply, deeply moving. It is actually reality TV in the sense that it is not this fake, manipulated, designed, manufactured, choreographed “reality TV” nonsense. This show is real, normal, every day, 9-5, nothing special, unimpressive Britain in the face of competition, opposition, restriction, hardship, isolation and self-doubt. Real dreamers who work hard and deserve every second of recognition they get. Yes, yes, yes.

How not to write a dissertation

I had more than a few 'finishing touches' to add to my dissertation last night before handing in a draft today. So, naturally, I avoid doing anything all day and then sit down to work at about 10pm. Here is the chaos that ensued. I call it, 'The Art of Procrastination:'

22.15 - I'm glad for these raisins I bought to snack on 'cuz I'm hungry. That 'big salad' really didn't fill me up at all. Dang healthiness. Sarah's gone to bed, so I'm all alone. Right...cinematic adaptation. Focus.

23.59 - I've now perfected the art of spinning round on my swivel chair with my eyes closed and stopping right infront of my computer screen, using only the sound of its whirring electrics as a guide. I'm desperate to eat something (work avoidance tactic) but am trying to wait until I'm actually hungry.

00.20 - Procrastinating again. Taking pictures of random things - including myself hiding under the desk. Just had a text from Em. Spend at least 10 minutes staring into space and thinking about things.

00.37 - Wasted a good few minutes devising a keep fit plan for the summer - my arms upset me. Wordcount for adaptation chapter: 485. Oh cwap. Food time!

00.46 - CARBFEST! Rice cake with Philadelphia & sliced tomatoes, followed by left over charlotte potatoes, mmmm.

01.18 - The night is still young! I'm confident. It's in the bag.

01.47 - Facebook....damn you Facebook! Oh, I had to touch up my nail varnish, too.

02.18 - I'm fading fast. That means...crazy early morning stay awake spontaneous boogie woogie time!! This is a skill and has to be done in a way that won't wake up sleeping housemate the medic. So I put on my mp3 player and get dancing like a loon around my room. The Go! Team make this possible today.

02.27 - Looked for jobs in the Echo. No luck, unless I fancy doing something nondescript for 'over 18s' or being a 'driver's mate' - can u imagine?!! hmm.....

03.00 - Goodness me, Classic FM is a bit extreme and experimental at this time of night. It's like being on drugs. This violinist is just messing about! Not the relaxing background music one needs at 3am.

04.26 - I must have dozed orf. Just realised the seriousness of this situation - My draft is going to be utter utter rubbish. In other news, I may be addicted to the 'My Musical' episode of Scrubs which is sheer brilliance. I think I know all of the lyrics!!

05.26 - I gave myself an inspirational pep talk. Four hours until I have to leave for campus & the printers, and inspiration strikes! Still a long way to go but the birds are singing and it's already getting lighter. Will she make it? I feel as though I'd work better if the Crystal Maze theme song was being played through speakers into my room. Almost time for brekkie :)

06.20 - My back hurts. I have sat in three different places during the night to try and remedy this problem, but it still just hurts. Sitting on my bed surrounded by comfy cushions and blankets was the worst decision ever...of the night. Who knows how long I slept?!

06.41 - Eeeeek! That is the sound of genuine panic. If I hadn't spent half my night writing these silly notes on post-its around the place, I might have got further. I think I'll eat cereal. I wish I'd known what I wanted to say earlier last night - now I've got it but just not enough time.

After this point, I worked on autopilot, pausing only to sneeze and throw some bread in the toaster at around 8am. I went onto campus to print my essay (not quite finished but close enough) and guess what? My USB had an error and wouldn't open any of the files. I had old drafts of the chapters, all without quotes and structure etc. and no new ones. I basically felt my heart drop into my shoe. I have an extension - next Wednesday. Great. My dissertation is like a nasty cartoon raincloud that follows me around and ruins everything else that might be considered fun. Well, not tonight. I'm going to CU and it's going to be grrreat!

It can be...

Life can be dreadfully sad.

I have no words, really. You watch these things unfold and the media speculation sometimes gets it right, and sometimes there is just no way to possibly imagine people acting like this towards each other.

Life can be dreadfully uncertain.

My thoughts and prayers are with Alan Johnston's family. I can't imagine the sleepless nights, and the jolts with every ring of the telephone. I can't imagine being told my son is dead by one person, and being told to hope he will come back by another. I can't imagine not knowing like that.

Life can be dreadfully unjust.

This is just one incident. Stuff like this is happening all over the world and never makes international news. And for what? I don't understand it. Freedom of speech and freedom of belief must still be new a idea.

Life can be wonderful.

Because this was recently printed in The Daily Telegraph, in plain view of thousands of readers,

'In all this, two things must be kept in mind: that the crucifixion is inseparable from the resurrection, and that the sacrifice of Jesus once and for all is brought to bear on us in the celebration of the Christian Eucharist.

By whatever image they are described, Jesus's death and resurrection reverse the fall, blot out sin, destroy death, make all things new, deliver mankind from slavery, reconcile us with God, make us his adopted children, let us participate in the very life of God the Holy Trinity, allow for our repeated forgiveness, and open heaven to us.

And because it is true.

BackUpToSpeed

At the moment I can’t seem to go ten minutes without my eyes glazing over & my mind drifting into this melancholy ‘it’s my last term as an undergrad’ daydream. It’s so sad that my three years at uni have come to an end. I will surely miss the life of an English student; The 6hours per week max. of lectures and seminars, the piles and piles of books to relish and analyse and criticise, the long mornings, the cups of tea on Avenue campus. Sure, I’ve cleverly devised a way to stay here in the education system for another year, but it just won’t be the same. Boo.

As it stands, my dissertation seems to be more scared of the fact I have to get a 2:1 than I am. It just refuses to be written! On the plus side my internet is broken, so I can’t get too distracted by facebook/myspace/youtube/homestarrunner/imdb/craft websites. May 14^th is crunch time. The dissertation is handed in and done forever. That is more than a little petrifying!

I really wish I’d blogged a lot more recently, because so much has been happening. I suffer from this inability to just write something when I think of it. Something inside me makes me feel like I have to get it just right. Oh dear, the literary perfectionist needs squashing! Anyway, as a result I’ve missed the opportunity to talk about my amazing week’s work in Beechwood Primary school and all the lovely kids I worked with, like funny little Polish Piter who said random nonsensical things like, ‘Miss Weeeeliss, one again I need eraser! I’m cheating I’m cheating. I no understand!” our encounter with a Landrover driving angel, and other random musings of my slightly tangential mind. Those things just can’t be written after the event. It just wouldn’t be the same. I wish I’d shared my absolute ecstatic joy on being accepted onto the Primary PGCE course for next year, and my equally delirious happiness at watching three really (and unexpectedly) good movies on the trot. (FYI these were Flushed Away, Night at the Museum and The Prestige – check ‘em out!) But, for some reason, I just didn’t.

So, for my final term I resolve to be less uppity and just write what happens. Yeah, I’m’a cut loose! I love writing so I don’t see why I make such a big deal out of it! I don’t want to miss anything out. I’m not anticipating an amazingly exciting and action packed few months, but it should be good fun all the same.

Have a Duvet Day

Today I had an official duvet day. Yes. Except, I pretty much stayed in bed (fully clothed, mind, i'm not that lazy!) so it was more like a...bed day. Hmm. I was working, I just woke up with a stinky stinky cold and rubbish headache. Lameage.

It's ok, I read a fair bit of Accordion Crimes (not really into it yet, but we English students press on!), watched Shadowlands and helped Benny revise some more. Hilarious consequences yet again; Can anyone decipher quite what I was thinking when I sent her away to her exam remembering, 'Rhino Candy Bins?' Yeah, it was funny, but you prolly had to be there.

The result of this was her hasty escape to Sweden; land of blondes and Ikea. And Abba. We remaining Safari girls who can't be galavanting off to foreign lands went to CU. (I'd had a nap, it's ok my headache had its butt kicked by pills, thanks for asking.) It was really good tonight. No compromise. Community. Power of the Gospel. Suffering & Seeking Oppurtunities. Sweet!

Somehow I ended the evening by having a picnic with friends in my room. Excellence. Can't be beaten. Now I'm going to bed...again.
Later days! xx

Today's 2 minute blog...

I made lemon drizzle cake...


Had a long-awaited chat with my sister via the telephone...


Wrote some things in a notebook.


It will be tomorrow by the time I have posted this blog.
xx

Today; Immunology. Tomorrow; The World!

Today I helped Emma, housemate the Physiologist, to revise for her exam. Oh, boy.

But aren't you an English student?! I hear you cry. Yes, yes I am. I am also now the proud owner of this shiny new idea: It's much better to revise with a complete idiot; it makes you feel more betterer.

Somewhere in between autoimmune disease, cell death as a result of neglect (which I handily pointed out was just like dogs at Christmastime) and Grave's Disease, I developed an overwhelming respect for Benny. And for any science/medicine student. I mean, those revision notes were just pages of long, long words and seemingly randomly thrown together letters and numbers.That stuff is like a whole different language. Th'amazing!

Obviously my revision technique (complete and utter ignorance) helped a great deal, because apparently the exam went rather well. I feel pleased as puncheon. I learned new stuff.

While I was in the mood for conquering the known world with my new found 'i can do anything if i blag it' outlook, I wrote me a new song on the keyboard and plucked a recipe out of thin air* and cooked it. Said meal is bubbling away in a casserole dish as I type, and it smells gooood. Hmm.

Today; cookery, songwriting and immunology. Tomorrow; THE WORLD!

*Obviously recipes do not hang in mid air unless you are in some kind of place with zero gravity. That said, when a particularly good recipe tickles the taste buds, it does tend to follow you around like a mystical cloud, calling in an eerie, high voice, 'Go on, cook me, you won't regret it!' And, yes, I have had a glass of wine.

It's Saturday. I'm in love.

I am in love with many things at the moment.

I am especially in love with the amazing truth that God keeps in touch with me even though I am completely lame at staying in touch with Him.

I love the fact that I am not yet worried about my exam on Monday. (Count 'em...one.) It's actually quite important, but this is yet to bother me.

I am [even more] in love with music. Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly. was absolutely amazing! Seriously, what a great gig to start the year with! Sam Duckworth - hero. As a result of this merriment, I am now even more excited about going to see Switchfoot and then Mutemath. These are two bands who will be responsible for a lot of face-melting, to coin a 'Ned Schneebly' phrase, and probably even more tingly-on-your-neck-ridiculously-joyful feelings! Oh man.

Inspired by all of the above, I'm going to dust off my guitar and my keyboard, and start to write songs again. Yes. Right after this essay is done, and the exam is just a distant memory. So...about 5pm on Monday!

Bx

Where We're All Headed...

When we're old - I mean, when our generation is old - what will we be like? Will we wear pink rinse in our hair and opaque tights on our spindly legs? Will we trundle to the shops with a trolley and reminisce about the good old days, when young men worked hard and young women behaved like women. Will we speak loudly, walk slowly, shop frugally, think deeply and act elderly?

Or, will we listen to rock music, stay up 'til 2am, and prowl the streets looking for a fight? Picture the scene; an intimidating group of adolescents lingers around the co-op at night, spitting on the pavement and hurling fistfuls and mouthfuls of abuse at every passer-by. The girls strut around, pouting through a mask of 3-inch-thick make up. The boys roll back and forth on their bikes, caps tilted on an angle and hands firmly in pockets. What on earth will these people be like when they are elderly. I can't imagine them as sweet little ladies and gents. Can you?

What I mean is, do the floral wallpapers, lace curtains and funny habits come as standard when you reach 'old age' or do old people live like that because that's what they grew up with? If the latter is the case then I may well be an 80yr old with postcards plastered on my walls, a stash of chocolate in a drawer and a never ending supply of music. I'll spend some days moping in bed, wishing i'd 'done it differently' and other days wearing an endless grin and relishing in fresh air, new faces and every little thing. I'll pull funny faces and do silly voices. I'll watch movies in marathons accompanied only by some good friends and a bottle of wine.

There's a poem about this. I just remembered it. It's by Jenny Joseph. It goes like this.

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Wonderful. Case closed.