In which my son's school makes a valiant attempt to undermine my policy of ignoring the Jubilee

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In which I hate this t-shirt with every fibre of my being

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In which I never usually wear pattern but got a lot of compliments for this dress. As the sartorially challenged soul I am it was bought in Sainsburys.

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In which dinner is shopped for, designed and served by the Prodigious Progeny. Mine is blue cheese & artichoke; his is chorizo, sweetcorn and olive. It was delicious.

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In which we holiday in Wakefield

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In which the summer fête gets a bit Lord of the Flies

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In which, in this room earlier today my kids were awesome and I was outstanding.

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In which many classes have claimed that working is completely impossible due to the ambient temperature but I was sustained by the knowledge that this was awaiting me

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In which there is no more evocative sight of the start of summer than a small British boy in shorts and massive clomping school shoes

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In which it is the first post-school ice-cream trip of the year. Bliss.

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In which it was very kind of York FC to take some cheery elves on their victory bus with them

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In which, after processing the coursework mountain, I go to Overworlds Underworlds and photograph my son in the River Styx.

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In which I spend all of Saturday writing AO1 critical vocabulary, AO2 structure, AO3 different interpretations and AO4 dramatic genre in the margin of coursework. And also moaning about this task on Twitter.

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In which Friday night is spent napping on the sofa.

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In which this is how it feels and you are rendering that scaffolding dangerous

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In which this is May 16th for the past 22 years: 1990 Gavin left Uni, 91 Damion wrote to me, 92 bought a tent in Dundee, 93 Gen moved in, 94 didn't study, 95 got Take That tickets, 96 had cold, 97 infrastructure managers' meeting, 98 went to Stirling, 99 house-hunted, 2000 had Hayley & Karen for lasagne, 2001 bad train journey, 02 morning sickness, 03 the roof didn't leak, 04 Matthew had squits, 05 met link tutor, 06 had NQT obs, 07 chlorine gas attack at school, 08 taught tort, 09 Take That tickets arrived, 10 went walking with Rich at Stanley Ferry, 11 ordered 40th birthday party invitation cards. That's my life on one day for 22 years.

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Location:North Terrace,Leeds,United Kingdom

In which the Holy Grail is relentlessly searched for but may never be found

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In which the Ticketmaster website says I have tickets to the Olympic Torch relay concert but won't allow me access to them. Grrrrrrr.

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In which a Cub Scout returns from camp and, despite having jumped in a lake, there is very little evidence of any other washing

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In which York once survived Romans and Vikings and Scots but I reckon the LS15 Massive might be a night out too far

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In which the Cubs on the left are going for a weekend away; the leaders at the front are going for a weekend of hell and the parents on the right are going for a night out

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In which I know my place and this is definitely not it

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In which, by Monday, I need to have read and graded the contents of these wallets. This basically comprises 62,000 words on King Lear, Death of a Salesman, Pride and Prejudice, The Color Purple, Rebecca, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, We need to talk about Kevin, The Virgin Suicides, The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, The Book Thief, Time's Arrow, Fatherland, The Reader, If This is a Man, The Handmaid's Tale, Never let me Go, Under the Skin, Enduring Love, the poetry of Plath, Owen, Dickinson and Auden, Pygmalion,A Clockwork Orange, 1984, The Road, Daniel Deronda and Middlemarch, Heaney's poetry and then maybe I need to plan 10 lessons and be a mum. Lazy swine, teachers.

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In which this is either the apogee of civilisation or the nadir

In which I go to Sheffield City Hall and look up

In which the terrible toll of a night out on my usually scrupulously tidy kitchen is revealed (I stood on the work surface to take this. That makes me an artist and the work surface a candidate for a good scrub down with Dettol)

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In which I appear to be going out to Live at Leeds 2012

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In which Momma you're just jealous it's the...

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In which I stick two fingers up at Cameron and Clegg and metaphorically moon Thatcher

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In which I attend training with the dreaded chunky pens and flip chart paper

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In which I cannot afford real Converse All Stars

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