Has anyone else noticed it's supposed to be summer? And what does that mean in today's society? For some, hay fever, for others an even bigger curse - getting a sun tan.
I've finally accepted I'm not the type that tans easily. Actually, hold the "easily" - I'm not the type that tans. Most of the time, it doesn't really bother me; I tend to wear long skirts or jeans, so my legs are usually covered, and my arms get a bit of colour, and that's it. But ... I have a keep fit/dance performance coming up at the start of July, and that means looking "healthy".
So for the last few weeks -since we were discussing costumes and my teacher mentioned the word "skirt" - I've been thinking what to do. A real tan or sunbed are out of the question (my brother once described me as going "brown as a lobster", and I was painfully aware how accurate that was). I've used one of those moisturising tans for three weeks or so, but my legs were still looking white until a couple of days ago, then I put it on carelessly and they went streaky. A magazine I bought recently had a review of different salon tans and I was considering whether I could justify - or even wanted - to do that. Then one of my colleagues came back from an overseas holiday ... and seeing her made me feel sick. Not with jealousy - I mean literally; my first thought was "Doesn't she care about skin cancer? And even if she avoids that, what has she done to the ageing of her skin?" And having seen her, I don't want to look like that, even if it does come from an aerosol and is totally safe. But I will be under the lights for the performance.
Then on Tuesday, my teacher finally revealed the costumes; a vest top in orange, turquoise or brown, a scarf tied round the hips and - oh joy - black trousers. So my legs will stay white for another year.
Sunday, 24 June 2007
Friday, 8 June 2007
How many schoolboys does it take to change a light bulb?
Many years ago I was waiting at a bus stop to go to Brownies when an older lady came and studied the timetable and, after tracing the 0645 to 0715 times with her finger, decided that she had about a fifteen minute wait for her bus. Being a good Brownie, I pointed out that those were the morning times and, if she looked from 1845 onwards, she'd find a bus was due in a couple of minutes. Her reply was along the lines of "Oh, I can't make sense of all that 24 hour nonsense, so I use the bit I understand". As a nine-year-old or thereabouts, I was shocked that she didn't realise that you can't make the morning times apply to the evening just because that's all you can read.
Yesterday morning, on the train to work, I was listening to the conversations of three secondary school boys (well, I had little choice but to listen - their shouting came well over the sound from my MP3 player). They were passing round a Key Stage 3 Mathematics book, and one was repeatedly asking the others to "test me on the brown box". Eventually, one of them agreed.
"How many feet are there in 12 yards?"
A long pause, then "Four? ... No, eight"
The first boy gave him the correct answer, then the one who had asked to be tested grabbed the book back and complained "That's not fair, that's not in the box. We're only supposed to know single units, like three feet in one yard. You should only be asking me single units".
I was appalled. Any amount of knowledge is no use without the willingness at least to try to apply it (a friend of mine, with a First from Oxford, didn't know how to remove spilled cherryade from a cream, long-piled carpet, so left it until the library opened two days later when he could research it). I've heard it said that children are only taught how to pass exams these days, but surely that includes some element of applying what you've learnt? And anyway, knowing that there are three feet in a yard is not mathermatics but memory skills; multiplying those three feet by the 12 yards and coming to the right answer is mathematics. But if that's Key Stage 3, then I'm really worried. Apart from which, why were they learning Imperial measures?
But should I have been surprised? In a quiz a few months ago, we were asked the name of Scrooge's dead partner in "A Christmas Carol", and one of my colleagues said, without even thinking, "I've never read it, so I don't know". Somewhere along the line to her PhD she's got the idea that, if she hasn't studied something in a worthy text, she doesn't know the answer. Even if she does.
Looking back to when I was a Brownie waiting for a bus I think, perhaps, I was hard on that woman. She has some knowledge, and was trying to use it, albeit incorrectly. I would be happy to have more people like her around these days.
Yesterday morning, on the train to work, I was listening to the conversations of three secondary school boys (well, I had little choice but to listen - their shouting came well over the sound from my MP3 player). They were passing round a Key Stage 3 Mathematics book, and one was repeatedly asking the others to "test me on the brown box". Eventually, one of them agreed.
"How many feet are there in 12 yards?"
A long pause, then "Four? ... No, eight"
The first boy gave him the correct answer, then the one who had asked to be tested grabbed the book back and complained "That's not fair, that's not in the box. We're only supposed to know single units, like three feet in one yard. You should only be asking me single units".
I was appalled. Any amount of knowledge is no use without the willingness at least to try to apply it (a friend of mine, with a First from Oxford, didn't know how to remove spilled cherryade from a cream, long-piled carpet, so left it until the library opened two days later when he could research it). I've heard it said that children are only taught how to pass exams these days, but surely that includes some element of applying what you've learnt? And anyway, knowing that there are three feet in a yard is not mathermatics but memory skills; multiplying those three feet by the 12 yards and coming to the right answer is mathematics. But if that's Key Stage 3, then I'm really worried. Apart from which, why were they learning Imperial measures?
But should I have been surprised? In a quiz a few months ago, we were asked the name of Scrooge's dead partner in "A Christmas Carol", and one of my colleagues said, without even thinking, "I've never read it, so I don't know". Somewhere along the line to her PhD she's got the idea that, if she hasn't studied something in a worthy text, she doesn't know the answer. Even if she does.
Looking back to when I was a Brownie waiting for a bus I think, perhaps, I was hard on that woman. She has some knowledge, and was trying to use it, albeit incorrectly. I would be happy to have more people like her around these days.
Saturday, 2 June 2007
It must be spring - the cats are changing colour
Welcome to my first ever blog!
We own (although I use that word very loosely) two cats, both aged around eight and both rescued. And that's where the similarity between them ends. Snowball (an unoriginal name, I know, but don't blame us - she was already named) came to us four years ago; she's white, delicate, and fiendishly clever. This is a cat who uses mirrors to hunt toys, socks, etc. Dyson (named by the rescue centre for the loudness of his purr, although it could equally well apply to his eating habits) is male, black with just a few white hairs on his chest - not enough to be a white patch - over 7kg (although the vet says he's not overweight, just big) and looks continually confused. He's been lounging around our place for just over a year now.
At least, they were white and black. But we've had some spring-like weather recently.
Snowball will go out for a few hours at a time, and find somewhere safe to sleep. For the last couple of days, "safe" appears to have been under a neighbour's "restoration project" car; there's no more obvious explanation for the large oil spot on the middle of her back. This doesn't seem to cause any ill effects or bother her at all; she'll still sit next to me in the hope of getting some extra food with a look on her face which says "I can carry this off; I'm still totally beautiful".
Dyson, if he can, only comes in for meals now that it's warmer. Yesterday I opened the front door at 6.45 am and found him sitting patiently on the step. He was a sort of yellowish green. I would guess his preferred sleeping spot is under a shrub in the garden.
Yes, it's spring. The cats are changing colour.
We own (although I use that word very loosely) two cats, both aged around eight and both rescued. And that's where the similarity between them ends. Snowball (an unoriginal name, I know, but don't blame us - she was already named) came to us four years ago; she's white, delicate, and fiendishly clever. This is a cat who uses mirrors to hunt toys, socks, etc. Dyson (named by the rescue centre for the loudness of his purr, although it could equally well apply to his eating habits) is male, black with just a few white hairs on his chest - not enough to be a white patch - over 7kg (although the vet says he's not overweight, just big) and looks continually confused. He's been lounging around our place for just over a year now.
At least, they were white and black. But we've had some spring-like weather recently.
Snowball will go out for a few hours at a time, and find somewhere safe to sleep. For the last couple of days, "safe" appears to have been under a neighbour's "restoration project" car; there's no more obvious explanation for the large oil spot on the middle of her back. This doesn't seem to cause any ill effects or bother her at all; she'll still sit next to me in the hope of getting some extra food with a look on her face which says "I can carry this off; I'm still totally beautiful".
Dyson, if he can, only comes in for meals now that it's warmer. Yesterday I opened the front door at 6.45 am and found him sitting patiently on the step. He was a sort of yellowish green. I would guess his preferred sleeping spot is under a shrub in the garden.
Yes, it's spring. The cats are changing colour.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)