Late. Lies. Full. Forgotten.

Oh it's been one of those days today. Nothing going right, hair pulling out days, when you just think, really? Does anybody listen to me?

So it started with a Northern Line disaster. I arrived with the board saying: 2 mins to the next train. Ten minutes later it still said, 2 mins to the next train. (Lies) And over the tannoy they continued to announce, 'There is a good service on all London underground lines.' (More lies.) That forced a few giggles from the gathering crowd and a few *bullshit* coughs. Eventually a couple of trains made it through, but I couldn't fit on and had to let them go. There were still no announcements as to what the holdup was, except for the weekend engineering works announcement, which was not particularly useful, what with it being Wednesday and all.

The only reason we found anything out at all was because one of the trains was held on the platform with the doors open and we heard the announcement from their train driver, saying there were 'customer belongings' on the track ahead and that also the train in front had faulty doors. A double whammy.

So after around 25 minutes on the crowded platform, with the cyclical update of, 'There is a good service on all London Underground Lines,' (continued lies) I squirmed my way on to the tube.
I had two more changes to make, first to the Piccadilly and then to the District Line, which luckily ran like clockwork, and I arrived at the school with about two minutes until the start of my first class, out of breath and annoyed. I hate being late. Especially when I set off early and it is no fault of my own. Urgh!

Okay, so that's the late and the lies covered.

Now, what part of full do you not understand?

I arrive at the school and am greeted with, 'Oh Helen, there's a new child.'
Dreaded words when three out of your four classes are completely full, and I was very clear about this last week.
'Oh, which room is it?'
'Preschool.' (One of the full ones, of course.)
'But I'm full in both Preschool classes. I told you last week.'
'Well, we thought they could just join in one of the other classes.'
But the only class with one remaining space in it, is a toddler class. I'm not taking a Preschool child down two age classes because it's the only room with space. It's not fair to them, and really before that was promised to a parent, it should have been discussed with me.
So I say no they can't join in, they will be first on the waiting list and when a space opens up they will have it. And then I go off to teach.

When I eventually wind up in the preschool room, the new child and teachers are all convinced she's doing it. I explain what I've already explained, that the classes are full etc, and there's no way I'm putting a preschool child in the young toddler room. They agree with me but then the child starts balling her eyes out. And then I'm the bitch. I'm the one making a child cry. And this is not the child's fault and I feel terrible. But there are reasons I limit the group sizes:

Resources is one, I mean I can't have fifteen of every instrument, I have to cart them around myself via public transport and I have to store them in my tiny one bedroom flat. So I limit classes to eight, absolute maximum. The other reason is of course, my sanity. Teaching eight kids, all with instruments, can be a testing time, especially when a lot have English as a second or third language, some have special educational needs or speech problems, and others are quite aggressive and hands on towards other children. I have to manage all this and still teach a viable class. Another reason is space. I have to share the classroom with the staff and other children that are not taking part in music class. I have to utilise the carpeted area which seems to gradually decreasing as more resources and shelves are bought. And when we're doing action songs and dancing, they need to have enough space to move around without clobbering their friends. It's for safety too.

But of course, I'm just the bitch that has made this child cry, but I'm also soft, so I give in and let the child join. It's not her fault. She shouldn't be punished for a lack of communication and people not seeming to understand the word full. Yes, full! No space. No more please. NO!

So, as I'm leaving, I notice a stack of about fifty music letters printed out on the desk. For that one remaining space? No wonder parents are still wanting to sign up. That many letters surely indicates there are spaces, despite many conversations to the contrary. So I very politely ask her to take them off and not to let anyone else sign up.

Full! Full! Full!

So then, as if I wasn't annoyed enough, I had to go and teach three more classes at another school. I have two groups in the preschool and of course all the children want to be in the first group, but they are more than old enough to understand there are two groups and some children just have to be in the second group, Or the shortened version: tough! Deal with it. But after I had all the children gathered for group one and we were getting ready to do our first instrument, I hear a knock on the cabin door - at this school we have a separate porta cabin where I teach the class - and when I go to check it's one of the girls from the second group. She stands there are says - wait for it, it's a classic - 'You forgot me.' And in case you were wondering, no, it's not cute! Don't think for one second it's cute. She knows which group she is in and she prayed on a member of staff who I later found out was only there for a trial day, to persuade her that I had forgotten her. Oh, I was not happy about that! And I told her. Next week she is in the second group, I did not forget her and she needs to listen.
Urgh!

And breathe.

Bloody Wednesdays. And next week it'll be even worse as I'll have a school pick up tagged on the end of this already long day. Yippee!

Hope your Wednesday was less anger inducing than mine.
It feels good to vent.

Rants

My Year In books 2015

Hello, it's that time of year again. The end of the year in fact, when it's time to round up those book lists and reveal my year in books.

It's been a varied year, a year of firsts and seconds and final parts and farewells and classics and re-reads. January 2015 saw my first book ever read on the kindle, which subsequently led me to pilfer Andrea's kindle, whilst he bought a new one. I know, I thought I would never be corrupted into it but when you have shit all book shelf space, a kindle comes in handy. And especially when you read copious amounts of trilogies and series, it's good to have a virtual book shelf where they can sit quite happily but take up little space and they don't weigh a tonne. This year also saw my first audio book and I managed to smash my intended 100 books read in a year. So here goes nothing. 2015, my year in books:

January

1. A Clockwork Orange: Anthony Burgess
2. The Bane Chronicles: Cassandra Clare and Sarah Rees Brennan and Maureen Johnson
3. Animal Farm: George Orwell
4. Earwig and the Witch: Diana Wynne Jones
5. Half a Creature from the Sea: David Almond
6. Cold Spell: Jackson Pearce
7. Coming up for Air: George Orwell
8. The Winner's Curse (The Winner's Trilogy #1): Marie Rutkoski (1st book on the Kindle, ever!)
9. The Monster of Billy Dean: David Almond
10. 1984: George Orwell

Wow, what a start to the year. This list included 7 from the library, one borrowed, one gift and my first Kindle purchase. Obviously, there are quite a few classics in there. Finally I got around to the dystopian terror that is 1984. I also finally delved into the wondrous mind of David Almond. I think choosing a favourite of the month is horrendously tricky here, so I'm going to go for two favourites: 1984. I mean, wow. Not much more to say on the subject other than this is shit scary. And the YA wonder that is Marie Rutkoski's debut, the Winner's Curse. This book has everything and is incredibly written. You do not put this book down lightly. 

February

1. Rosehead: Ksenia Anske (Kindle)
2. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: J.K Rowling. (A re-read. Obviously.)
3. The Castle of Otranto: Horace Walpole
4. All Our Names: Dinaw Mengestu
5. Love Hurts: Malorie Blackman and others
6. Heart Shaped Box: Joe Hill
7. Insurgent (Divergent #2): Veronica Roth
8. Siege and Storm (Grisha #2): Leigh Bardugo
9. The Darkest Part of the Forest: Holly Black

Another varied month with four from the library, three treats to myself and one re-read to mark Harry Potter Reading Night. February 2015 was about the second books in two trilogies I was reading. It was about exploring new horror writers and supporting a fellow writer whom I'd been following on twitter for some time. I had also been to the Love Hurts event at Waterstones Piccadilly to see Malorie Blackman, Patrick Ness, James Dawson and others speak about the YA compilation book of the same name. Again, choosing a favourite is tricky, but I think my first foray into Joe Hill's writing wins this month. A great book, so well written. I look forward to reading more. 

March

1. Trust Me: Malorie Blackman
2. The Sin Eater's Daughter (The Sin Eater's Daughter #1): Melinda Salisbury (Kindle)
3. Shadow Forest: Matt Haig
4. Half a King (Shattered Sea #1): Joe Abercrombie
5. The Enormous Crocodile: Roald Dahl
6. The Winner's Crime (The Winner's Trilogy #2): Marie Rutkoski (kindle)
7. All Fall Down: Ally Carter
8. Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets: J.K Rowling (Re-read of course.)
9. The Boy who Climbed into the Moon: David Almond
10. Damned: Chuck Palahniuk
11. Silver Lining's Playbook: Matthew Quick
12. Skin and other stories: Roald Dahl
13. My Friend's a Gris-Kwok: Malorie Blackman

This was a great month in terms of YA and Children's books read. Another great haul from the library and two books on the Kindle this month. Joe Abercrombie's Half a King is an outstanding book, and was closely followed by The Winner's Crime and The Sin Eater's Daughter in terms of my favourites, but I think he definitely deserved the title of best book of March. He doesn't so much insert you in his fantasy world, he drowns you in it. And what's more, you're quite happy about that. Highly recommended. 

April

1. Shift (Shifter Series #1): Kim Curran (Kindle)
2. Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief (Percy Jackson #1): Rick Riordan
3. There's a Boy in the Girls' Bathroom: Louis Sacher
4. Only Ever Yours: Louise O'Neill
5. Room: Emma Donoghue
6. Just After Sunset: Stephen King
7. Control (Shifter Series #2): Kim Curran (Kindle)
8. This Book is Gay: James Dawson
9. Suddenly in the Depths of the Forest: Amos Oz
10. Where Angels Dare to Tread: E.M Forester

April was a fab month as Kim Curran's Shifter series was released at the end of March all in one go, which meant some fab shifting treats throughout April and May. I treated myself to Louise O'Neill's award winning and absolutely terrifying book, Only Ever Yours, and I got another fantastic haul from the library. You may be small Kentish Town Library, but you're pretty mighty too. The hands down winner of best book this month though, was the incredible: Room by Emma Donoghue. It was one of those books I'd been meaning to read since it came out, and boy am I glad I did. This book is written so carefully and beautifully, the plight of its characters weigh heavy on you and you cannot stop reading. I hope they get the film right because the book is amazing!

May

1. Rock Wars (Rock Wars #1): Robert Muchamore
2. Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha: Roddy Doyle
3. Delete (Shifter Series #3): Kim Curran (Kindle)
4. Moral Disorder: Margaret Atwood
5. The First 15 Lives of Harry August: Claire North
6. How I Live Now: Meg Rosoff (Kindle)
7. Trouble: Non Pratt (Kindle)
8. Grasshopper Jungle: Andrew Smith (Kindle)
9. Brokeback Mountain: Annie Proux
10. Poldark - Ross Poldark (#1): Winston Graham

Lots of treats this month in the way of a Kindle hoard of YA gems, a continuation of my slight Margaret Atwood obsession, the culmination of Kim Curran's Shifter series, and some great finds in the library. This month's favourite title had to be Grasshopper Jungle. This is utterly bonkers, funny, gross, diverse and full of fabulous characters and carnage. Wicked book. 

June

1. Tell All: Chuck Palahniuk
2. Tinder: Sally Gardner
3. Night Shift: Stephen King
4. Rebel Heart (Dustlands #2) Moira Young (Kindle)
5. Pygmy: Chuck Palahniuk
6. Manifesto on how to be Interesting: Holly Bourne (Kindle)
7. Born Weird: Andrew Kaufman
8. Heap House: Edward Carey

Definitely a treat month as I finally got around to organising my Reading Spa Christmas present from my wonderful friends, and I came away with six books from there, two of which are the last two on June's list. More treats on the Kindle and from the library, and this month Chuck Palahniuk takes the favourite book award for his Hollywood Tell All. A deliciously sneaky look at the Hollywood underbelly and what happens under all that fame and make up. 

July

1. Dreams and Shadows: C. Robert Cargill
2. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children: Ransom Riggs
3. The Year of the Flood (MaddAddam #2): Margaret Atwood
4. Raging Star (Dustlands #3): Moira Young (Kindle)
5. Gone with the Wind: Margaret Mitchell

Not quite as extensive this month, but to be fair, Gone with the Wind took two of the four weeks of this month, to get through. Another two this month were from my Reading Spa, there was a Kindle treat to finish the Dustlands Trilogy and two absolute stonkers from the library. Hard to pick a favourite, but I think for its sheer epic nature, tiny print and over a thousand pages, I'd have to go for Gone with the Wind and the joy that is Scarlett O'Hara. What a great literary character.  

August

1. Stone Mattresses: Margaret Atwood
2. Live and Let Die: Ian Fleming
3. Ruin and Rising (Grisha #3): Leigh Bardugo
4. Department 19 (Department 19 #1): Will Hill
5. We all Looked Up: Tommy Wallach (Kindle)
6. California: Edan Lepucki
7. The Girl with all the Gifts: M.R. Carey
8. The Rest of us Just Live Here: Patrick Ness

This month saw my first Bond novel, some quality YA and more Margaret Atwood - of course. But winning the favourite book of the month had to be Patrick Ness. I ate that book for breakfast, lunch and tea. Plus, I love that guy! His words can do no wrong for me. A fabulous book. 

September

1. Sabriel (Abhorsen #1): Garth Nix (Kindle)
2. Fluent in 3 Months: Benny Lewis
3. Ready Player One: Ernest Cline (Audiobook)
4. Gone (The Gone Series #1): Michael Grant (Kindle)
5. The Blind Assassin: Margaret Atwood
6. Apple and Rain: Sarah Crossan
7. Over to You: Roald Dahl
8. Dreams of Gods and Monsters (Daughter of Smoke and Bone #3): Laini Taylor

September was definitely a good haul in terms of library books. It also saw the beginnings of some series, the end of another and my first ever audiobook. Oh, and a non-fiction book - I know, almost unheard of - that may one day help in my approach to learning Italian. The Blind Assassin gets the best book award of this month, because let's face it, it's amazing and it's written by an absolute legend. 

October

1. The Library of Unrequited Love: Sophie Divry
2. The Giraffe, the Pelly and Me: Roald Dahl
3. Prisoner of Azkaban: J.K Rowling (Re-read)
4. Factotum: Charles Buckowski
5. The Haunting of Hill House: Shirley Jackson
6. Kill Your Friends: John Niven
7. Astray: Emma Donoghue
8. Oryx and Crake (MaddAddam #1): Margaret Atwood

I hadn't realised earlier in the year when I read Year of the Flood, that I was actually reading a trilogy out of sequence. But the way they are written means they are completely stand alone novels and they work singularly as well as they do together. It did not hamper my understanding or enjoyment of the series by reading them out of order, and Ms Atwood once again wins best book of the month, for her epic dystopian world. 

November

1. The Hundred-Year-Old Man who Climbed out the Window: Jonas Jonasson
2. Revival: Stephen King
3. Uprooted: Naomi Novik (Kindle)
4. Half a World (Shattered Sea #2): Joe Abercrombie
5. Odd Apocalypse (Odd Thomas #5): Dean Koontz
6. Mad About the Boy (Bridget Jones #3): Helen Fielding
7. Red Queen (Red Queen #1): Victoria Aveyard (Kindle)

Some new authors for me this month, and some golden oldies too. I'm never too far from a Stephen King novel and reading Bridget Jones took me back to my teens. I'm slowly getting through the Odd Thomas series and still treating myself to a couple of Kindle books a month. Joe Abercrombie wins again as book of the month. Once again he drowned me in his shattered sea barely giving me a second to bob up for air. I need book 3 in my life. 

December

1. Cat's Eyes: Margaret Atwood
2. Lady of the Shades: Darren Shan
3. The Incident of the Dog in the Night Time: Mark Haddon
4. Blood and Ink: Stephen Davis
5. Lorali: Laura Dockill (Kindle)
6. Winter's Bone: Daniel Woodrell (Kindle)
7. My Name is Mina: David Almond (Kindle)
8. The Bell Jar: Sylvia Plath
9. Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Jane Austen and Seth Grahame Smith

What a month of literature to finish on. Such a variety and some absolute classics. I'm so glad I finally got around to reading The Incident of the Dog in the Night Time and the Bell Jar, long overdue. This was a tricky month to pick a favourite but in the end David Almond's wonderful creation: Mina, had to win. 

The final tally for the year was 105 books! Whoop! I smashed my intended 100 books. 2015 was a great year in books. And I can't wait to see what 2016 has me reading. 

Happy New Year everyone! 

Rants

Whilst Your Dinner Settles.......

Merry Christmas rantees of the world. If you celebrate Christmas, I hope you've had a lovely day with family and friends. If you were unfortunate enough to have to work, then I hope it wasn't too stressful. And if of course you don't celebrate Christmas then I hope you've had a relaxing break.

So, whilst the turkey settles and the fuzziness of whatever tipple you've been troughing like it was going out of fashion, takes over, why not sit back and take in a blog. 

Random tidbits.

This year I managed to avoid the John Lewis advert completely. Win!

This year I managed to not eat a Mince Pie until 13th December, despite them being in the shops before Halloween. Win!

This year I could not be arsed at all with tags on presents. That was my ultimate can't be faffed item of this year's Christmas prep. I enjoyed wrapping, but ribbons and tags and all that shit when you know people take one look and rip it to shreds just didn't appeal. Besides, I did splash out on awesome paper this year a la Paperchase, so who needs tags and fancy shit when you've got sprouts with googly eyes on the wrapping paper and a Sharpie pen?

Festive Observations

This year I noticed how much kids really don't care about eating. They want a meal to last for roughly ten minutes and then 'playtime'. They don't care about multiple courses and after dinner chats. Eating is just an excuse for adults to not play with them and to sit around wasting valuable game time chinwagging and stuffing their faces. 

This year I realised just how difficult it is to buy books in another language for presents. Most of the books you want to buy aren't translated and then even if they are they cost about triple what they would in the UK. I decided to use Italian amazon and one book came in German - though granted that could have been my mistake - and one was bashed to buggery, so I had to spend half an hour queueing at the Italian Post Office to return the items, and they were not available to replace in the bookshops. So then I had to just buy any random books and hope the recipients didn't already have them. Urgh!

Regrets

I'm not sure I've ever regretted something quite as much as not getting the anti glare coating on my glasses. Talk about seeing things. Lights, shadows, movements. Evil opticians actually make this a £30 extra. But it should be included with the lenses because, fuck, no one can deal with this extra world at the side of their glasses. Peripheral vision simply consists of the glare of all the things you can already see, but they hang around and move and blur and interrupt your vision. What a mistake. Can't wait for my two year check up and new glasses in 2016. I'll be getting all the coatings. Two years seeing things is quite enough. 

Done for another year.

Well that's it, Christmas done for another year. Food having taken hours and hours of prep - or in the case of the Italian family, days and days, possibly weeks - devoured in mere moments. Presents opened. Crackers cracked and terrible jokes read out. Washing up lining every surface and most of the family asleep on the couch. Enjoy an evening of crap TV and some leftovers even though you're so full you couldn't possibly eat another thing...............oooo, Christmas Cake. 

This blog had no particular rant value or purpose or direction, but hopefully it at least aided your digestion. Merry Christmas and enjoy the last few days of the year. 

Rants

It's That Time of Year.......

Ah, it's that time of year when everyone starts showing the pictures of their kids dressed as a shepherd with a tea towel round their head, or a king with a crown, or a little white dress and tinsel. I always wonder where the photographs of the sheep or singers or narrators, are? No? Was everyone just lucky enough to get a big part? No one's kids had a shitty bit part? Well good for you and your amazing kids. Clearly no one is made to be a narrator because they have a loud voice, are slightly overweight and not blonde, any more. Clearly, I am still bitter about this. And always will be. I hold on to that bitterness forever, because it's a part of who I am. And to be honest, I quite like it.

It's that time of year when you hate crowds, and all the people in them, and all you want to do is get your shopping done before a reasonable date, so you have time to wrap everything and leisurely write your cards, without having to do them on the freakin' plane or train, or in the car as you're travelling to wherever Christmas is for you this year.

It's that time of year when you just want to curl up and never leave the house and just watch heart-warming movies and wait for the snow that will inevitably not arrive because it's so freakin' mild out there. Come on December. Happen!

It's that time of year when all the reports are due for music class, and I spend hours and hours of my life - unpaid, I'll add - writing about the kids and what they've been up to, which sucks all the time out of writing and editing. I don't need to do this. I chose to do this, which makes it even worse, as I only have myself to blame. Damn it!

It's that time of year when you just want to see all your friends in one room at the same time and just hug and dance and drink and eat and exchange presents, when in reality, you'll be lucky if you even manage to see them all due to the spreadage of adult hood. All your friends are in different parts of the country, or different countries. They all have their own Christmas schedules which of course all conflict, because life's never simple and you end up spending Christmas zooming around trying to see as many people as you can, in the short time you actually have, whilst never fully consuming as much crap TV as you want, or watching all the Christmas specials you want until the New Year, when you watch them on catch up, which is so not the same, because it's January and January is dull as fuck!

It's that time of year when lots of people go a bit nuts on the festivity, and then some of course go the other way and complain about everything. I don't know why you're pointing the finger at me, this is a rant, not a complain, and I haven't ranted in so long it's overdue. And I don't have to explain myself to you.

It's that time of year when you consume so much sweet stuff, without even thinking about it. You put on weight without really noticing - until the spillage over the belt - and you end up fearing for your teeth, as they start to ache. They are literally screaming at you to suck on a carrot.

It's that time of year for everyone to go on their Christmas parties and post their pictures everywhere so you can see how much fun their having, but when you're self-employed and mostly work with kids under the age of 7, you don't really get a fun, booze-filled festivity, you get a slobbery kiss if you're lucky and a hand-made gingerbread man that probably has equal ratio of smarties to snot buttons. Okay, I'm being slightly harsh there, the kids make me some awesome stuff I just sometimes miss people a little closer in age to me. Not that I don't appreciate the humour and conversation of a 6/7 year old, we talk about all sorts of crap, but it's just not quite the same and we definitely can't chat over cocktails.

It's that time of year when time goes faster than usual because you have 50,000 more things to do a day, and the world thinks it's funny to watch you fail.

It's that time of year for watching Love Actually - don't care what anyone says, I love that film - the Nightmare Before Christmas, especially if you didn't manage to watch it over Halloween this year, which we didn't, and one of my favourites: Grounded, about a load of kids that are stranded at the airport without parents. Cheesy, but good.

It's that time of year when you think, I want to get a tacky Christmas jumper, but then you see lots of other people wearing them and think, they look a bit twatish, so instead you just pop on your Christmas tree earrings, and headband - which sings and lights up - and you think, sidestepped a hole there.

It's that time of year when you make a mistake when writing a note in a card and you think, why didn't I just do the obvious Happy New Year? Why did I have to embellish? And then, even though you've written a nice long note, all you can see in that card is the glaring mistake, that you either try to cover up with a Christmas sticker, or you cross out - last resort - or you go over it and try to make the wrong letters into the right ones, something which never works no matter how much you wish it would.

It's that time of year for bad jokes and paper hats, with crappy plastic items of little use nor ornament, and yesterday I had a couple of crackers.....no pun intended. I lie. It was totally intended!
So one of my kids yesterday was trying to tell the classic: Why did the chicken cross the road? joke, but basically only knew the question and not the punchline. Bless her, she's only two, almost three. So I told her the whole joke and explained it to the slightly bemused children. Then one of the other kids pipes up, 'I've got a joke.' Here we go.
'How did the whale fly?'
'I don't know, how did the whale fly?'
'Because he was bouncing on a trampoline.' The kid pissed himself laughing. I forced a giggle or two and resumed the lesson. But later when he was leaving, he said he would give me a joke instead of a high five. Oh dear, here we go again.
'How did the elephant fly?'
'I don't know, how did the elephant fly?'
This time the kid was laughing the whole way through the delivery of the punch line as though it was so funny he couldn't get the words out:
'Because he was bouncing on the trampoline with his friends.'
Hilarious, I'm sure, if you've just turned four.

Well, as it's that time of the year when I have 50,000 extra things to do a day and I'm failing miserably, then I'd probably better skoot off. I hope your run up to the Christmas break is relaxing and enjoyable. Ha ha. What am I saying, you're not five. Enjoy it as much as you can.

Rants

Last Night on the 46

Ha ha.

I begin with laughter, because sometimes laughter is all we have to get through the day. This is a statement that could only be enhanced by some contemporary dance, or at least some expressive hand movements. Anyway, I digress.......

So last night after babysitting, I left around 9.45 pm and had the choice of:

1. Wait twenty minutes at Farringdon for the next Thames Link service.
2. Get the tube, changing once at Kings Cross. 
3. Or, get the 46 bus and have a bit longer to read my book. Other pros of the bus are that it takes me to the end of my road, whereas the other two options involve a ten minute walk. 

So, I went with option 3. Mistake!

The bus came around 10pm, the standard waiting time for a 46 is anywhere between ten and twenty eight minutes - this figure will become clear later. And so, headphones in, head in a book we set off. 

Five minutes later, we are in the third lane of traffic somewhere along Greys Inn Road, stuck in a jam with a bus as full as rush hour - why? Was everyone babysitting? - when two young lads appear at the door, having weaved through the traffic. But what was even weirder was the two middle aged women that appeared behind them, having traversed the cars and buses. Now, I didn't realise at first, but the lads actually opened the doors themselves from outside the bus. I just thought the bus driver had done it, but it seems the bus driver actually tried to close it back on them. Anyhoo, they got into the bus and zapped their passes and then words were had with the bus driver. 

I have to interject here as to the hilarity of the situation. I'm not making any of this up but it will seem like a comedy sketch. So, the bus driver had a really thick Indian accent, the two teenager lads were both black, and the two ladies were white, one of them over sixty and with a super posh accent. This is when the headphones came out and the book closed. 

So the bus driver is yelling that they had 'no right to open the doors of the bus.' The teens didn't say anything, just shrugged. But the posh elder lady pipes up, 'What do you mean we've no right? We've been waiting twenty eight minutes for a bus and you didn't stop at the stop, you pulled out into the third lane to go around the other buses that stopped.' Then the bus driver hit back with another, you could have died sentiment, and again the lady threw back, 'but we didn't. And you had no right to skip our stop.'

This went on a couple more minutes and then they got on, sat down and the bus began to move. All good, right? Er.....no.

So, he then pulls into the next stop, opens the doors - front and back - and refuses to go anywhere. The women are still going on about how out of order the bus driver was and are threatening to call the bus police or something, whilst the bus driver sticks to his guns and refuses to leave until the young lads get off. They are stood, arms crossed, shrugging, no words and of course refusing to get off. I mean, they had paid their fares, so it's fair enough. 

A younger lady tried to talk the bus driver around but he was sticking to his story of, they had no right and someone could have died, blah, blah, blah. And still we weren't getting anywhere. So this younger lady then asked the lads if they would get off so the rest of us could get home. Older lady pipes up, 'Why should they? They've done nothing wrong. They protected us. They shouldn't have to get off the bus.' Small argument between the two ladies, with lots of comments thrown in from other bus users, who just wanted to get the fuck home. It was now about 10.10 pm.

Meanwhile, another posh 60+ lady tries to ring the number on the bus, for complaints, but can't get through. Someone shouts out about calling the police, but then someone else shouts out that would waste 999's time. Lots of shouting back and forth and nothing happening. I just sat back and took it all in. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any drunks on or anything, so the situation didn't become violent or aggressive. 

The bus driver continued to say no to every one's protests and said, 'it happens every day.' Then posh 60+ lady gets the funniest line award of the evening: 'Well get another job.' Ha. Love it. But you have to imagine it in a beautifully posh accent. Amazing. I burst out laughing as did another few of the passengers. Then she continued: 'I'm 65, I've got Parkinson's, I'm ill and I just want to go home. I've worked for 45 years and I'm fucking tired!' Yes! She dropped the F bomb. Legend. Bus driver pipes up: 'language.' Ha ha. So much laughter. 

Then more women and men came up to plead, some with no money to get another journey, others with children at home, others with elderly relatives with them, and others just wanting to get feckin' moving! But the bus driver was like a defiant toddler having a tantrum. He could not be moved or persuaded or coerced, and he refused to move until 'we' removed the boys from the bus. As one lady rightly said, 'How can we just throw someone off a bus? We can't do that.' And as many others said, 'we have paid for a service, and you are supposed to provide that service.' But we were just hit again with the refrain, 'I'm not going anywhere until the boys get off.' it's about 10.20 pm now.

Then, another 46 pulls in behind us, and most of the bus vacates. If I'd been thinking clearer I would have stayed on, because the boys had jumped off and our bus could have left, without me having to pay another fare. But I forgot, in the absurdity of the situation and so I leapt off and joined the rest of the gang - bit of stranger bonding going on - and of course the bus driver wouldn't let us on for free even though he'd seen us all get off the other bus. He wouldn't listen to an explanation either, so we all just muttered under our breath and paid again. One guy did make an argument and the new bus driver wanted us to get transfer tickets - as if the other bus driver would have given them - but he had already driven off. 

And as posh 60+ lady - of F bomb fame - rightly put it, 'Of all the bus routes in London, it's always the 46. There is always someone being thrown off, or it stops to change drivers, or stopping at every stop for two minutes.' I feel your pain love, I really do. How much of my life is spent waiting for that thing, let alone the time I'm actually on it?

So, as I eventually arrived at my bus stop, I jump off to find the other bus - the bus I should have been on - trailing behind it. Ha ha. Beat you by thirty seconds. I could see some of the dejected passengers still on there. And it took me one hour to get home. 

Next time, I'll take option 1 or 2, me thinks. 

Safe travelling out there. You literally never know what's gonna happen. 

Rants

Book Rants and Bad Decisions

You know when you say yes to something, and already you're not a hundred percent sure it was the right thing to do, but then with each subsequent email you regret your decision more and more? That's where I am right now.

But enough about me, how are you?

Okay, so I've joined the twenty first century by accepting my partner's old kindle and trying to read one book a month on it, but how distracting is the percentage? Do you not find yourself constantly looking at it? I keep telling myself, it's not a page number, it's not going to move with every page click, but that doesn't help. I can't stop looking at it. And it feels like it's mocking me. It also feels as though you're never going to reach the end and I find this sort of thinking tends to distract from the story. I've tried covering it with my finger, but then it's so easy to uncover. I then get this weird feeling that builds in me, which is a combination of the desire to finish the book and the notion that I'm not going fast enough. It feels like it turns reading into a race against.....yourself? The book? The percentage gods? Whatever it is, it's highly distracting. When I finished the book I was reading on it, I couldn't wait to get back to a real book that I could touch and that whose page numbers increase with every page turn. Ah, paper and black text, how I love to escape into you.

Although - here comes another bookish rant - when you're reading a 'classic' and they put all those numbers linked to appendices at the back, that is just as distracting. Every other line has a number and you try to skip past it, thinking, I know what that means so I don't need to read your stupid appendix, but then you think, what if I've got it wrong? What if I don't actually know what it means? What if I'm getting the wrong gist of this four word sentence? Perhaps the word will end.

Okay, so slight melodrama, but it is highly distracting and mostly unnecessary, especially when it's not even footnotes that you can see right there and then, but a separate appendix at the back of the book, that you have to keep flicking between. And reading something in this stunted way is so detrimental to the story and I'm pretty sure not what the author had in mind when he or she wrote it. I gave up after about three pages and just read through all the numbers, and, I didn't even go and read the appendices at the end. Ha! I can make sense of the book in my own way without ripping it to shreds, Thank you very much.

As always I'm doing my best to avoid all things Christmas until December, so no mince pies, even though they look delicious, no Christmas markets, no music, and definitely no bloody John Lewis advert. Even when it was shown on The Russell Howard show the other day, I turned my back and busied myself with something else. Blah, blah, blah, some cute message that tries to tell us all to love our neighbours and be kind to others and....wait, it's a super expensive shop where only relatively rich people can afford to shop. Hmmmmmm. Relatable to the people? Perhaps not. And, to add insult to injury, they've released some hideous pink pencils 'for her', because we need 'female' pencils don't we? And each pencil has on a different message which sets women back decades. Yippee! http://www.johnlewis.com/abigail-warner-for-her-pencils-pink/p1995262  And do you know what makes it worse? That they're designed by a woman. Damn it! I think this article sums it up perfectly: http://standardissuemagazine.com/in-the-news/dear-john-lewis/ written by Hannah Dunleavy. Well said.

Oh, and one more thing, the waiting room of the ballet school is not a great place to read a book. People are chatting and there are kids changing and people coming in and out, and people moving chairs around and toddlers toddling about waiting for siblings. And I can't really drown them out with music because I have to be vaguely alert in case my charge comes out needing the toilet  - which happens nine times out of ten. I should be enjoying an hour of sitting and reading, but instead I'm distracted by sounds and movements and conversations and I just want to read! Wah!

Okay, so I should probably be writing or editing or something and now the rants are out it might be easier to do that. It's like passing a large.......Well you get the idea. You feel a whole lot lighter, put it that way. And with that I'll leave you. Happy Tuesday!

Rants

Half Term/Stuff Kids Do

When kids try to make out you're stupid........

Z (7 year old I look after): Helen, do you know David Presley?
Me: No. Am I supposed to?
Z: I can't believe you don't know who David Presley is.
Me: Well, I know an Elvis Presley, but not David Presley.
Z: Oh yeah, that's who I meant. I always call people David by mistake.

When kids try to make out you don't know where you're going.......

Me: We just need to walk down this road and then we'll be on Caledonian Road for the bus home.
Z: Um, I don't know. This doesn't look like the way we came this morning.
Me: That's because it's a different road, love.
Z: I know, but....it doesn't look the same.
Me: How could it? It's a different road.
Z: Yeah, but still. I think I'll just check this map over there.
(We cross the road to look at a housing estate map.)
Me: That's just for a housing estate Z, but you can see this is the road we're on now and we just need to go this way.
(Turns his head in the other direction, rubbing his chin. I can see him deliberating that I've taken us completely wrong.)
Z: It doesn't say Caledonian Road on here.
Me: That's because it's the map of a housing estate and doesn't go as far as Caledonian Road. Trust me, it's this way.
(I start to walk off. He lingers behind a bit, still umming an' arring. I'm getting slightly annoyed at this point.)
Z: I'm still not sure. It all looks different.
Me: (Volume increase.) That's because it's a different street. You didn't come along this street this morning, you took another one. We are going the right way, now could you just keep moving and stop doubting me, please.

When Parents giving them instructions can annoyingly backfire..........

Me: So here we are at Caledonian Road. (I think I was a little shocked and relieved at that point. He had me doubting myself.) Now we just need to find the bus stop.
Z: Oh yeah, I remember this road, we came this way with daddy this morning.
(Strong urge to pull a face and sing neh, neh, neh, neh, neh. I resisted - out loud.)
Me: Great, now I'm pretty sure the bus stop will be this way.
Z: Daddy says it's bus stop C, so we have to find that one.
Me: Well I don't know, we'll just have to check the bus stop when we get to it, and if the 17 goes from there, then it's fine.
Z: No, daddy said it had to be C.
Me: Well, I don't know where all the bus stops are, and this one here says B and has the number 17 and it goes the right way, so it's fine.
Z: But daddy said we should go to C.
Me: (Again, slight volume increase.) Okay then. Fine. We'll walk down to the next bus stop. Look, you can see it down there. Come on.
Z: (He comes trailing behind me.) No. It's okay, we can go to this one.
Me: No. No. If it has to be C, come on, let's go and find C. (I march off.)
Z: No, really, we can just go to this one, it really doesn't matter.
Me: I know. That's what I said all along. (Ahhhhhhhh.)

Rants