In which I could hide 'neath the wings of a bluebird as she sings. The six'o'clock alarm would never ring

In which the Tudors are terrible and History is Horrible. Thank thelord for having a strategic kid

In which I find it hard to plan a lesson on Hardy

In which there are many Moshi Monsters

In which after realising a lifetime ambition to teach Thomas Hardy tochildren there was really only one other Hardy to spend Saturday nightwith

In which my cleaners tidy up the hat and sunglasses that my son haddiscarded carelessly in his bedroom in an innovative fashion

In which I am not ready for the new class I have to teach tomorrow butit is the fulfilment of a lifetime ambition to study and prepare

In which I will always remain true to my mantra that indie rules, rocksucks and I only went to this for The Kids

In which I take students on a trip to court and they look veryfrightened of the defendants

In which I have several meltdowns at work and eschew eating healthilyfor a great deal of comfort food

In which at my back I can always hear times winged chariot hurrying near (or term)

In which we spend the morning on the beach in Studland, Dorset but willbe sleeping in Leeds unfortunately

In which I remember those lost at sea

In which I visit my Nan and Pops and admire the location they chose tospend eternity in

In which the poet laureate gives me pause for thought

In which I attend a command performance of TV icons

In which I visit the Bovington tank museum and feel very affected by the World War I trenches recreation.

In which, for the first time in his life, my son eats McDonalds and I feel like crying because there was no option at these services

In which I start drinking before 4pm. In Wakefield.

In which I come third in a dancing competition as I look amazingly hot

In which I read a book written by a famous TV medium personally dedicated to me but, on inspecting it, he has not confirmed the lottery win, world trip or marriage to David Tennant. Disappointing.

In which inspiration strikes for my World Book Day costume and I haul out a frock that I only wore the once in order to present myself as Miss Havisham

In which, not for the first time, I am let down by a small knob when I am in a real hurry

In which I know where to start on writing three separate quizzes on literature for World Book Day. My attic.

In which there is a scene from Breughel in East Leeds

In which my decision to spend 17 euros on snow boots in boiling heat in the Algarve last February is finally and decisively vindicated

In which there is a school trip but there are no children on the coach. Only teachers. You can tell this because the language and behaviour is worse than usual.

In which my 9 year old goes to a Valentine disco at school and I worry about potential kissing

In which I dine with two Cubs whose levels of badge garnering make my lifetime achievements seem feeble and below contempt