Platypus, Plasticine and Piles

I never thought this morning, as I made the most of a glorious sunny morning to walk to work, that I would be teaching a lesson about the duck-billed platypus via the medium of plasticine. But then one doesn't, when one works in a school. You never know what is going to happen mostly because of the ever-present 'unknown factor' in the equation a.k.a 'the students.'

And I also didn't know I would be using plasticine to spell the word 'supercalifragilisticexpealidocious' either. And what was particularly unfair in this spelling trade off was that my literacy opponent - Bradley - only had to spell the word 'cricket.' And because he has ADHD (in lay-person's terms 'the attention span of a gnat') I completed my spelling challenge before he completed his. But then he got to know more of what was going on around us at the time. 'I am naturally nosey, Miss,' he said, and I couldn't help but agree. And he ended up looking like a Smurf because he used blue plasticine, whereas I used white plasticine and remained unstained. 

So, did you know that the platypus is poisonous? Neither did I. Apparently it has spurs on its legs that contain enough venom to kill a small dog. Who'd have thought it? They look so cute in their ducky-beavery-ottery way.

I arrived home to a back garden that looked even worse that it did in the video of the previous blog entry. Hard to believe but true. But the hideous concrete slab was gone, manifesting itself as a small concrete mountain on the drive. 

And I thought, as there is a massive lorry coming tomorrow to remove the concrete mountain, I would go to the back of the garden where there has stood for the past 8 plus years a great dollop of old breeze blocks and other assorted rocks, and discretely add them to the concrete mountain on the drive, and the lorry (built for carting heavy stuff) could take them away thus saving my little car (not built for carting heavy stuff) the trouble of potentially breaking its suspension. 

Now this plan came with three major problems to overcome: 1) the lack of flat, unhindered by garden furniture/ willow arch/ eglu pod 'n' run/ various vegetable plants/ waterbutts/ builder's equipment pathway from the back of the garden to the driveway 2) the weight of the breeze blocks versus my flimsy girly arms and 3) Primrose and Daisy who had already donned their hard hats, high viz jackets and steel toe-capped builder boots and were awaiting with great keenness all the insecty delights that would be revealed once I started shifting rubble.

So, after an hour of hard labour in sweltering sun on my part, and hard scrabbling and pecking on the part of Primrose and Daisy, I can now report that hens have no fear of falling breeze blocks. That they will get in the way at every possible opportunity despite the fact the human being (moi) cannot see where they are under her feet because her view was obscured by carrying rubble and also from the sweat dripping in her eyes. And that if one puts a stack of breeze blocks next to the gooseberry bush, hens will climb onto the pile of breeze blocks all the better to reach the lush green leaves at the top of the gooseberry bush which is lovely, thanks Mum, because we've already stripped the bottom of the gooseberry bush clean!

And I can also report that I am exhausted, but it has been a good day! And a cup of tea is a-calling. And possible some lemon drizzle cake.