In which I live in a totally tidy house. However, a night out, 3 hours sleep and shoppingmageddon have ruined my kitchen. *Goes for dinner at Nandos*

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In which this morning I needed help to find the Billy Bunter suite at Ellen Row. This afternoon I didn't need any guidance to be outstanding. This evening I am setting a route to a great evening at the Sixth Form Ball.

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In which, when you are stuck at your Mum's hair salon the best way to survive is to loll on the window seat reading.

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In which the failure of the Tooth Fairy to visit is blamed on Tory cuts rather than on the fact that the tooth parted company with the gum at school and the envelope containing it was not passed over to the Tooth Fairy's earthly representative. Who didn't have a quid anyway.

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In which a child, entirely unprovoked, pushed my son over and kicked him in the chest. He was sad until he ate pizza.

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In which I do not consider a leaflet brought home from school by my son to be in any way appropriate

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In which the Olympic Torch comes to Leeds

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In which I watch a film and am very inspired. Ayrton Senna de Silva used to live just round the corner from our family in Portugal and I wish I'd known more about him back then.

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In which an era ends as the one thing I'm truly talented at is taken away.

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In which I am one of Gove's elite. But he can still fuck right off.

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In which I have owned this since I was 15 and back when my parents bought it for me in Stratford-upon-Avon I never envisaged it would one day be used virtually daily. It's a beautiful text and a real pleasure to use to plan lessons from.

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In which the god of the people who hateth football doth smite the telly box and render the whole channel dark

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In which I have had 2 texts, 2 emails and a reminder card about the Post Office not being able to deliver my Olympic tickets. This was not a shock as I was not allowed to have them delivered to work (where I am during the day) but it had to be to a residential address (which, of course, was deserted). Quelle surprise.

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In which I might not be able to ban him from watching Euro 2012 but he's definitely not owning an England kit.

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In which, frankly, I think that's a bit of a tough ask Leeds Art Gallery unless one is 80s hero Manimal.

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In which incontrovertible evidence is submitted that I live with a little lad

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In which I collect together my top 10 favourite books to provoke discussion with my Sixth form literature class. I have an amazing job.

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In which the non-existence of the marking fairy is finally and conclusively confirmed on Btec final submission day

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In which su Kasa e no mi casa as I'm dodging snacks. Apologies to Spain, all Spanish speakers and those of a nervous disposition around dreadful puns.

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In which, after a week of over indulgence in NI and with Greece 6 weeks away I activate the guru

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In which it is certainly arguable that I ought to get the guttering fixed

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In which my friend who likes rabbit and cake turns 40

In which my son creates an Olympic torch and I miss being in Northern Ireland where the real one kept bumping into us

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In which I thought I'd get soggier looking at the grand staircase of the Titanic

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In which the wildlife of Belfast is frightening

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In which Junior Scrabble turns out to be far harder than the adult version

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In which we are sat on a beach and then the Olympic torch turns up

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In which I didn't manage to capture the Olympic torch relay with my IPhone so here's a bus

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In which I am at the Giant's Causeway

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In which I visit one of my favourite buildings in Leeds

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