The only good thing about inset days (apart from the fact that we now get paid for them) is that I always feel the need to walk home to empty my head of the crap thats filled it in the previous 8 hours. Once home I naturally feel quite exhausted, and I have to make my way to the fridge for an ice cold lager to refresh myself. After cooking dinner I then reward myself with a nice bottle of vin rouge and try to think of something I’ve learnt during the day but also try to remember at least one of the names of our delinquent year 7’s that will be embracing S**** in the coming hours.
In fact, I can truely say my highlight is always the lunch, and those triangular-cut sandwiches are taken to a new level…
This is part of an e-mail that I received last night from Sam. My, I do miss her. And them. And being at that school. I want those triangular-cut sandwiches back again!
I was expected in at the new place. I went. I saw. I met people. I felt a stab of unhappiness that it doesn’t yet feel like my place of work, and won’t do for a fair few weeks. But the Head gave me a lift home, which was rather sporting of her. And we play with WordArt and I hear all the horror stories about the nippers. I look at the folk there and I ponder over whether any of them will become my friends. I don’t object when they all call me Liz. Nobody asked, and because it’s on the computer and labelling my pigeon-hole I daren’t tell anyone that it’s Elizabeth, NOT Liz. Assertiveness? Not today.
Tomorrow I’m being inducted. I feel as though I’m joining a Masonic Lodge. Or becoming a Stepford Wife. I wish it was tomorrow night. I need a cup of tea …
please God no blessing of the people who call me Liz xxx Elsabeth
NB: But please note that I let Sam call me Liz. This is because she’s studying for a Psychology degree with the OU, and also because she scares me. I forgive her on both counts.