Time Store

The hens are sitting in the middle of the formal rose garden at Cluckinghen Palace, staring at each other around the Henry Moore statue. It's a statue they acquired a couple of years ago, Lord knows from where; all Miggins will say, when pressed on the subject, is that she's got 'contacts in the trade, right?', and then she gives me a menacing look and I don't like to probe further.

'All right, girls?' I call over the fence, for despite their best horticultural efforts with a honeysuckle, I can still see inside the grounds if I stand on a footstool, on a ladder, on a coffee table, on the heap of soil I dug up recently whilst trying to extricate the last of the roots from the eucalyptus tree. (Which, annoyingly, is starting to sprout again. I think the darn thing has Terminator tendencies.)

'We're fine,' says Mrs Miggins. 'We're having a board meeting.'
'Oh, really?' I say. 'Which board meeting would that be then? The Associated Chicken Society? The Peckham Ladies' Cluster? The All Feather and No Pants Guild?'
'No,' says Mrs Miggins. 'Not that kind of board. The other kind. B...O...R...E...D....bored meeting. Because we are bored.'

Well, as my children will both testify, mentioning the word 'bored' to me is like waving a red rag to a bull that isn't, unlike its compatriots, colour-blind.

I have two stock answers to the 'I'm bored...' thing. They are 1) go and tidy your bedroom and 2) go outside and play.

Neither of which suffice for the chickens because a) they have a woman that does to tidy their bedroom (i.e me) and b) they are already outside, although they aren't playing. Unless you count the game Mrs Miggins and Mrs Pumphrey play every day in trying to keep Mrs Slocombe at beak's length.

'I wish I could suggest something for you to do,' I say.
'Oh, we'll be okay this afternoon,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'This afternoon we are going on a mystery tour. On a coach. Tango Pete's arranged it.'
'How exciting,' I say. 'Any idea where?'

Mrs Miggins gives me a bit of a stare. 'It wouldn't be a mystery tour if we knew where we were going, would it?' she says.
'Lakeland Plastics,' says Mrs Pumphrey.
'Oooooh, I LOVE Lakeland Plastics!' says Mrs Slocombe, waking suddenly from her bored meeting meditation. Well, she's approaching that age, I suppose, where retractable feather dusters and banana holders become suddenly fascinating must-have objects.
'WHAT?' says Mrs Miggins. 'How do you know we're going to Lakeland Plastics?'
'Tango Pete asked me where I'd like to go if I was to go on a mystery tour and didn't want to be too surprised,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'And I've always fancied getting one of those Ramoushka pots, you know, for those evenings when I'm on my own and want a pot-for-one-prepare-ahead-and- slow-cook-supper.'

Mrs Miggins sighs. 'He's so unimaginative,' she says.

I, on the other hand, have been anything but bored this morning. I have been to the dentist for a check-up. All tickety-boo and good for another year. I have purchased seven rolls of wallpaper for the hall, landing and stairs. There was a spot of wild shenanigins yesterday when I waved a tape measure around for a while, adding up very approximate numbers as I went, and guessing a bit in difficult places to reach like the top of the ceiling and the recess into the stairwell. And then I abandoned the tape measure and consulted my instinct who said seven rolls would be ample. And if it's not, I shall know who to blame, shan't I?

Then I came home with my wallpaper. I unravelled a roll, held it up the wall, and said, 'Oooh, lovely.'

Then I did a spot of interwebbly property surfing, hoping that 'THE HOUSE' would leap from the screen and make itself known, then I remembered I'd just spent a fair packet on some wallpaper, so best reign in that 'let's move' malarkey feeling toute suite.

This afternoon I have to meditate on a conundrum. You know how I am planning to do my Reiki degree? And that I've contacted a tutor? Well, whilst having a book tidy out the other day, I came upon a copy of a book I acquired many, many years ago written by the healer Harry Edwards. It was one of the initial motivators that got me into the whole psychic reading and healing thing. My Mum's nanny was a friend of his; I think that's how I came by the book in the first place. So, being a curious type, I typed Harry Edwards' name into Google, and to my delight, his healing sanctuary still operates today! It's about an hour's drive away, in Surrey. And they run courses and retreats where one can gain a formal and recognised qualification in healing! And they have an Open Day this Saturday!!

Well!! Suddenly, I'm all fired up about something that happened nearly thirty years ago, that, although not forgotten, had slipped to the back of my mind. Suddenly, I feel like this could be the continuation of a journey that I began back in the summer of 1982, 8 months after my grandad died and I heard him telling me the runner beans were going to be good that year. And they were.

I have suddenly realised that Time doesn't work. Time is a human concept attached to the motion of the Universe, which the Universe roundly ignores. The Universe puts elements of our life in place, knowing we'll be back for them sometime next week, next month, in five years, ten years, a lifetime, it doesn't matter when. All that matters is that we do return, and continue along the way that is meant for us, no matter how far we've drifted off to pursue other interests.

As Helen Keller said : 'When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one that has been opened for us.'

So - Reiki or Harry Edwards? Or neither or both?

Let the dance-off begin!

Very Off -STED

Hark! Can you hear the sound of a chicken running around with it's head cut off? Hmmm??

That'll be the noise of the pre-Ofsted panic then.

Two weeks before the end of term and HM Inspectors have decided to pay a visit tomorrow and Thursday, just as everyone is going off the boil, but the weather is boiling up. Personally, I think they've missed the zeitgeist. But hey-ho. You know the saying 'Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach. And those who can't teach become Ofsted Inspectors.'

('That's you stuffed on the karmic spectrum for the next two days,' says Mrs Miggins, who has come to see exactly which chicken it is who is careless enough to be running around with their head cut off. She suspects it's Mrs Slocombe. Again.)

And so, since THE CALL came in yesterday morning, everyone has been running around shouting 'DO THIS, DO THAT, DO THE OTHER, PUT THIS HERE, CHANGE THAT, EXCLUDE THAT CHILD WE DON'T WANT HIM RUNNING AROUND WITH HIS POTTY MOUTH AND ADHD/ODD/ADD/EBSD/ whilst the Inspectors are in etc...'

And when I say 'everyone', I mean Senior Management, who, to be fair, probably have more to panic about than those of us who had the foresight to resign ages ago, never more to darken the doors of teaching with our carefree and incompetent ways.

I have not been panicking. I see little point. Perhaps the Reiki training is digging into my spirit more quickly than I anticipated. 'Just for today, don't worry.' Good advice. What's the point in worrying? I'll do my best, of course, which as you know, hasn't been quite good enough for this school. I have submitted my detailed lesson plans. I have put together resources galore. I have gee-upped the children - 'C'mon, we're great! Let's show those Inspectors how much we have learned about 'Holes'/ 'The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas'/ Blood Brothers.'

I am awaiting to embrace the end of my teaching career with open arms.

Today, I've had various people arrive in my classroom, all starting their conversations with 'Could you do a favour for me?' One of these people asked me if my marking was up to date.
'Yes it is,' I said.
'I don't suppose you could help me with mine could you?' came the reply.

Ah, so that's how it works! People who do their jobs conscientiously, and keep on top of their work are rewarded by being expected to help other, less conscientious people, out of the sh*t.

Luckily, because I am in 'just say no' mode at the mo, I just said no.

Besides, I had enough of my own work to do, having been supplied with a shed-load of bin-bags and told to 'clear out the cupboards' in my room. Blimey, I thought, as they carted away one of my cupboards, 'I'm not even cold in my grave yet.

And as I was working on my lesson plans this evening, another member of staff appeared in my class,
'Ooh, this looks a nice quiet corner,' she said.
'Mmmmm,' I agreed, trying not to lose the thread of what I was writing, which was a particularly good bit of box-ticking jargon.
And this person promptly sat down, spread her papers across the desk next to me and spent the next twenty minutes talking to herself as she sorted out what she needed to do for the next couple of days.
I gritted my teeth. My classroom IS quiet. That's what I like about it. No noise. Plenty of peaceful atmosphere conducive to good lesson planning. Generally devoid of people making rambling, out-loud thoughts.

Luckily, just as I was about to ask her to 'SHUT UP I'M TRYING TO CONCENTRATE HERE,' she finished what she was doing, gathered up her papers and disappeared, presumably back the chaos. And then we had another after school meeting during which the FOUR assorted head teachers (count 'em - 4! Too many chiefs...?) forced out what I assume they thought to be encouraging grins but looked more like the Cheshire cat trying to pass a basketball, and the rest of the staff scowled back with a look of pure hatred in their eyes. Me? I doodled some flowers on a piece of paper and thought how nice it was that two Reiki teachers have contacted me
with a view to starting my training proper. And that I've already got a paying client waiting for me to set up business.

So there we go. I suspect there will be many exploded heads by the time Thursday afternoon comes.

One of them, God willing, will not be mine.

For I've done all I can. My mind is elsewhere. I was awake at 4.30 this morning so I got up and meditated for a while and then I wrote a poem.

Now that WAS a worthwhile use of time...

Learning a Lesson

The principles of Reiki, a healing energy process for those of you who are unaware, states this:

Just for today...
...don't be angry
...don't worry
...be appreciative
...work hard on yourself
...be kind to others

So today, as the kick start to my Holistic Therapist goal, I was up at 5.45 a.m to do a meditation based on this principle.

It was a bit of challenge because Pandora thought it highly entertaining to wait until I was 'in the zone' and then bite me for some attention. So the meditation was a bit stop - ouch - start- stop-ouch -start but I managed to maintain the principles before me, including not getting angry at said cat.

However, knowing the Universal Force as I do, I knew I was going to face a day of being challenged on these principles. And by ten o'clock I was out in the garden swearing at the bindweed that was becoming way too familiar with my lavender which, I have to say, has been LUSCIOUS this year! Bad bindweed! Angry Denise.

And by twelve o'clock I was thrown into a worrisome panic when, on performing a hive inspection, we found 2 sealed Queen cells. Oh blimey, that wasn't good.
'HOWDIDIMISSTHOSELASTWEEK??' I shrieked.
'I missed them too,' said Andy. 'And given how many bees there are and how good bees are at hiding things, we have to accept that no matter how careful we are, these things do happen and that's how we learn.'

Which I knew to be true, but because I am a perfectionist who is very hard on herself sometimes, I felt an immediate bee-keeping failure. And now a Reiki failure because I immediately started to worry aboubt our colony deciding to swarm.

Still, we went inside, consulted various book, phoned a few people and the decision was taken to cut out the Queen cells which would buy us some time to prepare for an artificial swarm if need be, which we don't really want to do. But, after a very anxious and sweaty hour and a half we are very much at the state of having to sit and wait until next weekend. As an extra precautionary measure we've removed the Queen excluder from between the brood box and the super we added last week (which the bees ignored as a good space to use), as it seems the excluder may have deterred the workers expanding upwards. This means we are creating a brood and a half - again, not a great solution, but a solution nonetheless.

Will we have a swarm by next weekend? Blowed if I know, but I'm trying not to worry, and am talking myself into the theory that the bees are doing what is right for them and not deliberately trying to annoy us.

Andy, sensing my angst, took me into town for lunch, so I was able to demostrate an act of appreciativeness, because it's always very lovely to be taken out for lunch. I was also appreciative that Andy tolerated a visit to a ceramics fayre at the local Priory, which happens every year and is a mini-highlight of my summer, but not Andy's.

Principle Number 4 - working hard on myself. Probably not as well executed as it could have been although I've been giving a lot of thought to my future. I should have done some study, but I fell asleep on the sofa for an hour instead. But the night is still young so time for study after blogging.

And being kind to people? Well, I always try to do that, although sometimes I am not very kind in my thoughts. I have made a conscious effort to avoid uncharitable thoughts today, even when I saw one of those four wheeled motorbikes being driven wildely and noisily along the road topped by a couple of morons sans crash helmets...see...I just can't help it. Sorry about the 'morons' bit.

So what has happened today? Humility, I think, in the face of a potential bee-keeping cock-up. And simple enjoyment of a quiet lunch with my very tolerant and indulgent husband. And learning to be calm and stand back and let all things natural just be.

Except the bindweed. I ripped that out straight away.

Little steps to start along the Reiki pathway, I think. Little steps. Just for today.