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Showing posts from September, 2011

It could only happen to me

Today I had to deliver a micro-teach. It's part of a course I've been doing to upgrade my qualifications. So I got up early, made sure I had everything prepared whilst feeling slightly excited at the prospect of a new challenge. I showered, put on my make-up and selected my clothes and made myself ready. I decided to veer away from my usual casual attire of jeans or trousers by going for the professional look by slipping on a skirt, petticoat and tights. After a spray of perfume, I checked myself in the mirror and thought I looked (passably) like I knew what I was doing...

Anyway, I delivered my micro-teach at the front of the class and all seem to go reasonably well. I felt a little rushed due to the time constraints and a bit uncomfortable - a fact I put down to my tights which, as all women know, are a woman's worst enemy - after stockings.

So, after a round of applause I made my way back to my seat at which point....

I noticed my petticoat was around my ankles.

I was no…

I am not a Student Advisor! (Mrs T's search for Employment II )

Yep, I am not a student advisor. Well, I'm pretty sure I'm not as the interview date was today and I haven't heard anything.

The problem is, when you haven't worked in the conventional manner since 1998, it doesn't matter how much voluntary work you've done; you've still not been employed. It's a competitive world at the moment and there's a lot of people who tick all the right boxes fighting over very few jobs.

Anyway, I think the University is missing out. I would have made a fantastic student advisor! I mean who wouldn't want Mrs T dispensing her pearls of wisdom to the student fraternity?

I admit though that Young Sam, who has just started his second year at university, was not quite so impressed with the idea...

Mrs T: Sam, I've applied for a job as a student advisor at the University. Ask me some questions, will you? Just in case I get an interview.

Sam: You're kidding?

Mrs T:  Umm...no. I think I'd be a wonderful student advis…

The Princess and the Thief (Flash fiction)

Mummy ran out the back door, Daddy went out the front door. I think they forgot me. Daddy’s a banker. He travels a lot. Mummy said this time he’d gone too far. She threw the earrings he’d bought her in the bin. Then Daddy threw his briefcase. It hit mummy’s china. I took my parcel into the lounge and cried. The string is too tight. I need scissors from the kitchen. It’s messy in there and too quiet. Perhaps Mummy will be pleased if I tidy up. I pick her earrings out of the bin and put them in her special cookie jar and I put Daddy’s briefcase back on the table. Daddy calls me his princess and Mummy calls me her angel. I collect the big pieces of broken plates and drop them in the bin. There’s a shadow on the floor, I look up and see a man staring through the window. I know him but I can’t remember his name. I saw him outside the school gates last week. He waves at me. I wave back. He opens the porch door and smiles. “Can I help? You don’t want to cut yourself.” “If you like.” “I saw your …