This morning at school drop-off time, Parent A (drives a truck, kid in my year) and Parent B (unknown variable) got into a loud fight, full of complicated wordology in the playground when one tripped the other up. They had to be separated by other parents and the Head-teacher had to come over and tell them off, for it wasn't just a "Oi wotcha fink yer doin', did you spill my pint" etc, punches were thrown, I saw them. Are we to expect a stern letter from the Head asking parents to refrain from engaging in fisticuffs in front of the children? Maybe a new sign next to the no-smoking sign, with a fist icon crossed out in red? Interesting that it's during anti-bullying week. I mean, it isn't the Bronx, that's over by the motorway.
This week I have swimming 3 days in a row so Jof said to go and try on some other swimming trunks she'd bought me, in case Pair #1 were not dry by Day #3. They were all exactly the same as Pair #2 ie too small, scratchy and overly clingy in the Gentleman's area. Try again, Mother, and don't get it wrong this time. No, my bottom hasn't grown, all the trunks have got smaller. Shrinky-trunks?
This is new playground game 3 of 4. Formula Racing is not milk substitute speed-drinking but a simple fun game in which you spin the wheel and your chosen car or motorcycle advances along the wiggly track to the chequered flag. The tracks are separate so you can't crash into your opponent or distract him with boobies but the classroom behind the wall is often distracted by enraged losers thumping their fists on the backboard panel. The classroom next to mine has the Flying Saucer panel game with the music from Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind, very distracting for the pupils with the Year 3s going boop beep barp neep all the time, 'cos they have different break times to us.
In swimming I was epic and was used as the demonstration guinea pig again, did you know I still have to have 5 yearly checkups from those nice people at Porton Down after the guinea-piggery I did for them in the 1950s.
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