No thank you!

I'm not a very sociable person when it comes to work do's. I have always tried to avoid them where possible, prefering to keep work at work, and home at home. When I've finished work for the day, I want to go home and be with family and friends, and do things that have nothing to do with work whatsoever. I find it's a good way to keep depression at bay.

At work, one of the art teachers is trying to organise an 'end-of-term-hurrah-aren't-we-a-fantastic-team' celebration thingy, which she has chosen to call a Fiesta. And for weeks she has been trying to drum up support for the event, which is £7.50 a ticket and , if the advertising posters are anything to go by, will be a rip-roaring, rollicking extravaganza - with raffle prizes.

Just up my street then...

But as I've never felt a part of this particular school 'team' and have been treated quite unprofessionally in the last few months (even my line manager has admitted this, without hint, bribery or physical prompt from myself), I was never going to be inclined to go to the 'do' anyway, let alone pay for the privilege of watching people getting drunk, flirting with each other and/or hovering around in cliquey groups slagging each other off. (Pardon the colloquialism - I've spent far too much time in the company of Year 7 girls who have been having a 'Slag Each Other Off ' week. Reaction to the hot weather, maybe? Or hormones? I know not, I care not...)

So on Thursday, an e-mail was issued to the whole staff from Art Teacher saying that she was making a final push for ticket sales (aka 'I've hardly sold any and this event is in danger of becoming a big fat flop'), and if anyone wanted a ticket, they were to e-mail her back IMMEDIATELY. She also said that she DID NOT want to hear ANY pathetic excuses from people who DIDN'T want to go because , as she put it, 'at my age - I'll be 27 next birthday (HA! thought I) - life is too short to listen to people trying to tell me why they don't want to come.'

Fair enough, I thought, and deleted the e-mail.

Art Teacher arrived in my classroom yesterday.

'Are you coming to the Fiesta?' she asked, waving her rather devoid-of-ticks staff list at me.
'No thank you,' I said.

Art Teacher looked at me. She seemed rather taken aback.
'Why not?' she said.
'Because I don't want to,' I said. Because that was the truth.

Another stunned silence.

'That's a bit miserable of you,' she said.
'Yup,' I agreed. 'But then when you get to my age - and I shall be 45 next birthday - life it too short to waste time doing things you don't want to.'

At this point, Art Teacher retreated. She was muttering something under her breath, but I couldn't quite hear what. Probably something to do with crabby, middle-aged misery-guts English teacher types spoiling her Fiesta fun.

Well, I thought, she did say she didn't want to waste her life listening to pathetic excuses. I mean, if she wanted excuses, she should have said so and I'd have concocted one especially for her, to make her feel better.

Or would I?

Probably not, actually. It was rather refreshing to be blatant and honest. I'm not going to a Fiesta because I don't want to. Simples!

And in three weeks I shall no longer be a misery-guts English teacher - I shall be an embryonic Happy Holistic Therapist!

Rouster Jouster

Andy and I went jousting on Saturday. Don't worry, we didn't get physically involved in leaping on horses and trying to poke other people off their horses with pointy sharp things like lances and swords. That would have been way too much for the imagination to contemplate. No, our contribution was in the form of audience participation i.e when the commentator announced the arrival of Sir Eugene we all went 'Hurrah!!' because he was the goodie and when the commentator announced Sir Jonquil, we all went 'Booooooo!!!' because he was the baddie. There was a young squire, whose name escapes me (so caught up was I in the frisson and excitement of the joust) who was clearly there as eye candy for the teen girls and another squire called Bob who looked like a girl, was a girl and whose real name was Lucy.

Are you keeping up?

Anyway, Andy and I have decided, what with autumn in the air and the nights drawing in, that we should go out on expeditions for one day every weekend to make it seem like we are actually doing something productive rather than the usual stay-at-home-because-we-are-tired malarkey that we have fallen into of late. We don't want to fall foul of Seasonal Affected Disorder, you see. It is important we make STERLING EFFORTS to bolster our mood through the winter.

So we started last weekend by meeting our chums at Windsor Great Park and picnicking and playing with kites and frisbees and collecting natural history stuff. And this weekend we renewed our annual season tickets to Leeds Castle and inadvertently walked in on a Jousting Competition. The weather was GORGEOUS, we had lunch in the castle restaurant, performed a yompingly good walk and examined the tat in the gift shop. An all-round thoroughly mood bolstering experience.

And next weekend? Oh what a treat we have in store! We are going to the South East Alpaca Open Day. Oh yes! I am typing this in a firm-fingered manner as I didn't feel Andy was wholly sold on the idea when I said yesterday 'Next weekend we are going to the South East Alpaca Open Day.' But alpacas look like an opportunity too cute to miss. They appear to be a cross between a llama and a poodle - all bouffant and choochy-faced. And apparently you can purchase alpaca products inc. jewellery, socks and pictures. I am determined to return with a pair of alpaca socks. A whole alpaca if I can get away with it.

Also, I want to organise some kind of celebratory event for this Friday or Saturday, as it is Andy's last week in the post of temporary Senior Veterinary Surgeon. He will be happily resigning the responsiblity to a new Senior vet, nay flinging at her and running away laughing I suspect, and I shall be happy that he might actually get home from work on time and be able to eat a dinner that hasn't been frazzled to a crisp or dehydrated to the texture of a ship's biscuit.

It'll be all go this week. I'll be preparing to start my stint of part-time tutoring on Wednesday, ploughing on with 'Indigo Antfarm, Violet and Blue' and trying to get it out of the plot tangle it seems to have developed when I wasn't looking, organising a 'surprise' for Andy for the end of the week (sshhh, don't tell him!) and cookery experimenting with the huge pile of autumnal veg we hauled home from the allotment yesterday.

And this is mostly how I shall be avoiding the onset of S.A.D this week.