Workshop

Awoke in erratic mood as dreamt was being eaten, face first, by close friend. Decided best to sue friend, seeing as she’d caused nightmare to occur in first place.

Sent casual text to friend, letting her know date of court hearing. Received smiley face asking if was still freaked out by horror story she’d embellished on Bonfire Night.

Child miraculously ready for school, passing caustic remarks and sneezing all over furniture. 

Stomped off to school, accompanied by Child requesting a laminator. Apparently, he needed this immediately, along with a scanner, colour printer and photocopier.

Was sure could smell gas as left house, but felt warm glow at prospect of decadent lifestyle provided by vast insurance payout.

Child demanded to cross road without using lights, as they were “too far away” (3ft). Suggested he decided when safe for us to cross…

“Now!” declared Child, as ten tonne lorry hurtled towards us. Glanced at Child to see if taking the proverbial, but seemed to have genuinely assumed “lorry would wait”…

Threw Child into wrong line in playground, ignored protests (“I’m not in nursery anymore!”) and dashed off to deal with Office Vulture.

Handed over cheque (don’t trust her with cash) and held out hand for receipt. Vulture fannied about, making song and dance about locating receipt book, whilst I held up queue. Receipt book right in front of her, but knew it was sick game, so just slitted my eyes and bided my time.

Satisfied Child’s place in school club (sadly not residential) now secure, rewarded self with bag of Monster Munch and several Malteaser Teasers (brunch).

Pointless returning home to pending gas explosion, so waited in wrong hall for Child’s class workshop. Noticed size of children scurrying past was distinctly smaller than that of own child, so made way over to junior hall.

Workshop as painful as predicted: vomit-inducing welcome from poorly-dressed teacher, followed by lengthy video that no-one could hear.

Meanwhile, entire class was either flicking pencils or playing Assassin’s Creed. Parents, likewise, skyping or smoking crystal meth.

Workshop over, children piled outside to stamp on each other, play truant and damage playground equipment.

I caught sight of teachers imploring Head’s PA to do their playground duty. Quite impressed with extortion racket drummed up by PA…(one way ticket to Maldives, week’s vacation at a playboy manor, year’s supply of cocaine).

Made mental note to register with council as a PA. 

Returned home to download PA form and was horrified to see it entailed a list of responsibilities the length of Rapunzel’s hair. Lied way through education and recent experiences, bribed Close Friend to provide reference (she owed me after eating face), then plagiarised rest of form off internet.

Stalled posting form as spied fit postie approaching box. Nonchalantly leant against it, bashing elbow in process and styled it out by whistling through pain. Postie beamed (with that gorgeous face of his) and enquired about my current keep-fit regime.

Instantly informed him that had completed Tough Mudder and Iron Woman in a day.

Already halfway to hell, continued to regale him with detailed aspects of both races, making him shudder and gasp in admiration.

Sighing lustfully, I passed PA form his way, then sashayed off, certain had bagged shag.

(Perhaps should lie more often?)

 

 

 

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Author: raspberrycrumbleblog

Long-suffering, short-tempered, constantly-hungry, frequently-sarcastic mother, writer, musician, athlete and teacher. Usually found in the confectionery aisle...

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