Tangent: My heart is full

Not of gravy, but of overwhelming joy, as I am a sucker for attention, adoration and love! Yup, the sickly sycophantic sort, no commitment, just quick and easy....

This does not come from the plate of cholesterol you see here, but the event behind it.

Let me explain. I have always wanted a surprise party, someone to go overboard especially for me, to plan and organise and develop and consult and get great pleasure out of giving something to another person they love/adore/worship! In fact, it was definitely on the list of 60 things to do/ have before 60.

I got it. Yup. I did.

No, not just a plate of nosh, a real, honest to God, down to earth surprise party.

Let me explain. yesterday at lunchtime in school, it was my regular 'knitting club' get together, with my 10, 11, 12 year olds. I started the club last September, never thinking that it would take off, but it did and has been the most popular club at school, with nearly 30 girls (and one brave boy) knitting and crocheting. In fact, it has become such a craze that their teachers were having to tell them to 'put away your knitting now, I want to start the maths lesson.'

I have derived huge waves pf pleasure and gratitude the past months. We have made a blanket for a teacher going into hospital, and worked feverishly for our Summer fair to sell scrunchies, purses, ipod covers, spectacles covers, mobile phone covers, handbags etc. Special thanks to my friend Gill who gave up her time to come and help us week in and week out.

I had planned to give them an 'end of year' party next week, when I was suddenly and mysteriously called away from my class just before lunchtime, so that they could prepare.

And prepare they did.

The blinds were closed, the lights off, the food stretched from one end of the table to the other, the orange juice poured and everyone waiting quietly till I was accosted outside the door and led in blindfolded.

With a whoop of 'surprise' they jumped up crowding round me and kissing and hugging me for joy. What a wonderful, amazing, incredibly delightful experience it was.

Overwhelmingly speechless (for once) with tear filled eyes I just hugged them back and we all got stuck in to eat, drink and be merry. We toasted one another several times, we thought about and expressed the things we were all grateful for, and we all had to say the one thing that we had enjoyed the most this last year...'Knitting club' of course we all shouted!!!!

So I have had my surprise party and what a joyful one it was. The plate of food I brought home for my husband is the only testament to it all, as I forgot to take my camera to school ! Blast!

Otherwise a perfect ending to a perfect club.

With a waiting list for next year!

Tangent:An apple for teacher

It's that time of the year again, waving goodbye to the (often crying) kids in your class and sending them along to the next dragon!

I hate it and love it at the same time.

They have been like my family, my kids, my reason to get up in the morning.

And, now, that's all over - yet again.

So the pressies start rolling in, the good, the bad and the ugly.

Candles that stink, loadsa bubble baths and chocolates.

Somehow not enough for all those months and months of slog. yet, still feeling like some sort of 'handout'!

My ideal gift would be a mug bearing the slogan" Coat finder, pencil sharpener, surrogate mother, walking encyclopaedia, form filler, arbitrator, language specialist, fundraiser, accountant, musician, government directive reader, PR officer, nanny, examiner, crowd controller, scapegoat............just call me a teacher!"

Tangent: Children's art

This was a drawing done of me in the playground at a school in Kuwait by a seven year old girl in the Summer of 2000. I get a warm fuzzy feeling every time I look at it. What pure innocence. What clear vision. What inescapable beauty. Not because it's me, but the love and fun shines right through. The sandals, so simply drawn, the hat perched on top of the curl short hair, the long dangly earrings, the glasses, the cheery wave all depict me- how I look physically, but also my feelings about my precious profession, teaching.

This was a drawing done of me with Snuffles, who I took to school to meet the kids one day, 'show and tell' all about 'How to care for your pets'

Remi (6) fell in love with Snuffles and drew us walking her to the park. Again the pure simplicity, the colours, the sweetness and the happiness are so apparent.

The other day Remi drew this for me at home, showing her and Harshini, her best friend in the class, actually her best friend in the whole wide world(evident in their posture) with me looking less rotund but having all the qualities of the very first picture done 7 years before.

Last Thursday we did a lesson about 'Same and Difference' and the children had to draw my TA (teaching assistant) and me and then write 5 ways that we are the same and 5 ways that we are different. These were three of them, and we couldn't stop laughing.

You certainly see which one is me, and even catch a glimpse of the pink hair in one of them. Yes,the sandals, the earrings, the glasses, the short hair are all still there, but mostly the quality and purity, the freshness and simplicity, the perfection, absolute sublime perfection.

Surely these rival Picasso any day.

Only wish I could see the world through their eyes.

What you think bridgemor?

Eleven: Do more painting/ drawing

I am not artistic.

This was drummed into me at an early age.

Whenever I did attempt something, my 'all or nothing ' personality made me want to produce perfect pictures, and when I couldn't, I gave up. But then I give up easily, maybe far too easily. Hence the three marriages.

Like everything else in my life, e.g. having an ED when no one was talking about 'that' and taking prozac when it was newly discovered, my type of drawings will probably be more acceptable now than they were when I did them.

I consider myself unable to draw a straight line, but hey, what is a straight line nowadays? There are so many variations on straight, that even straight looks crooked.

When I draw little funny figures on the board at school, my five year olds always giggle or ask me 'what's that supposed to be?'. Enough said.
However, in my 39 years of teaching, I have used this to my advantage by saying 'you know I can't draw very well, but you try, I bet you are much better than me'. That turns even the most hesitant child into a Picasso before my very eyes. The other ploy I use is,' not everyone is good at everything, but we all keep trying'. Sickly sweet, I know, but it works every time.

Picasso, now you know why he is my idol. it's the pure wierdness of his art, the nakedness, the honesty, the clarity and starkness of it all that amazes me. When I look at his work, it makes me want to pick up a brush and go where he's just been.

The other person's art that blows me away is Steven's. Mind you he blows me away with all his talents. His art always has an element of sadness and reflection about it. Even when he's drawing a birthday card which he does for the whole family (one of the most important presents I receive), there is still this phantom of futility about it, coloured with a haze of cynicism. Tugs at my maternal heartstrings, even while giving me immense pleasure.

It is him who I have to thank for my 'art'.

Four years ago I was recovering from a slipped disc operation, followed 9 weeks later by a left shoulder operation and was in a very low state, both physically and mentally. I was walking that 'tightrope' of life. Could I stay on or would I fall off, or should I just jump?

After giving me lots of ideas and trying to urge me to take an interest in something, anything, Steve said to me one day 'What about painting? I'll bring my easel and paints round and set it all up for you, and when you feel like it you can have a go'.

Which he did and which I did. And like everything in my life, including this blog, when I get my claws into something the whole obsessive 'all or nothing' takes over and it's like one massive glorious binge. I started very slowly working through the pain and eventually not a day went by without me painting something, even if I just copied stuff. (I still believe I am better at copying than original stuff....although the previous little drawing was my very own- see 'fight the bulge')

Mind you, had it not been for Steve and Mark's continual praise and encouragement, I don't suppose I would have persevered, as I am my own worst critic and if I get it into my thick skull that something's not worthwhile, then it takes a lot to re-convince me that it is.

As you know with your own lives, we always grow from pain and sorrow and I think that's even more true with art. You have to have sunk into some sort of black hole in order to dig really deep within yourself to find something original to say/draw/sing about.

And, conversely, when life's going swingingly well again, this angst gets put aside till the next time. Likewise with my art and drawings. I haven't done anything for years, back at work and devoting no time to myself and to my pleasures anymore.

Enough. This is my year. The time is right. Art here I come. Thanks Steve.

this is my time

time for me

time to just be

what about thee?

Eight: Brag more about my 'granddog'

Snuffles, as you can see, is the most beautiful, cutest, wondrous, affectionate, gorgeous, loving little 'granddog' that anyone could ever be blessed with.

I know, I know, we all love your pets, specially the snake in the back shed and the crocodile in the bath. But Snuffles has an unusual history which I'll briefly tell you about and then I intend to brag some more.

We were teaching in Kuwait six years ago when I saw a picture of the sweetest little puppy stuck on a tatty piece of paper on a tatty notice board in the local supermarket, with a tatty phone number beside it.

What can I say? It was love at first sight; utter, blinding, overwhelming, breathtaking love. Never in all my (nearly) 60 years have I fallen so quickly. I didn't know her breed, if she even had one, I didn't know what her nature would be like, or what to expect after only having kept bulldogs before. Bulldogs are another one of my passions.

I rang the number and a man with very broken English told me that he had got 2 dogs from Thailand, one a rottweiler and one a 'small dog'. He informed me that his small children were hurting the 'small dog', but I suspect he wanted to get rid of her because he would've preferred another rottweiler.

We arranged to meet the next day in the supermarket's car park, exchanging car colours for recognition.

After waiting 30 minutes,we had almost given up, when he arrived and, there sitting on the back seat was this bundle of love, pure absolute love. I can't say anything else except that I was smitten, gone, completely gone!

After a bit of haggling we bought her there and then and took her straight to the vet, who informed us that she might be a shih tzu and also that she had a blood disease and may not last the next few days. Oh no, my heart was broken. How could this be happening? After just one hour with her in my life, I felt bereft.

He started treating her and within a few days she was completely well. Don't quite know what happened to the blood disease, but there you are, he performed a miracle on her ........

She was everything a naughty puppy should be, but delightful, with instant cartloads of pleasure.

The following year, when the Iraq war broke out,teachers were urged to leave, but couldn't take their pets with them. What a huge calamity. What were we to do with Snuffs?We spent more time worrying and discussing her than any other problem we might face if we left.

One of the Sri Lankan cleaning ladies at school heard about our predicament and offered to look after her, which we accepted very thankfully. She promptly moved in for eight weeks and bonded with our Snuffs just as we had. Without her help, we would have had to get rid of our precious 'child' as we no one knew what the outcome of the war would be.

That was an awful time for us, but soon we were reunited. The following year we decided to return to the UK.

We sent her to do her quarantine in France with some friends of ours, and when she entered the UK our reunion was better than any you might see in a Hollywood tear jerker.

It was hilarious the first time we took her to a park here, as she had never stepped on grass before. She was a real desert dog, sand , sand and more sand.

After six years my love for her is as strong if not stronger than it was then. She and I have an incredibly close bond and she is my shadow.

She is the happiest, most contented little soul that I have ever had the pleasure to share my life with and if I were ever reincarnated I would love to come back as Snuffles, providing I could have me as her owner.