Oh deary me. What was I thinking? I have gone and got myself into a real pickle and like The Sword of Damocles, that pickle is hanging over my head, threatening to engulf and annihilate me at any moment. I enjoyed being a nun in The Sound of Music. It Read more
After several failed interviews recently, I am resorting to my back-up plan, which is to be a supply teacher. Supply teaching is a funny old game. I am a qualified teacher, and as such, I have all the paperwork and qualifications to trot off to schools and deliver lessons. Scary Read more
Woe is me. I think I have made a terrible mistake. A few days ago, Mini Seymour had an optician’s appointment. She’s had a chequered history with the people at Boots. She was originally diagnosed with a suspected squint, astigmatism and short-sightedness (I think, although I can never remember the Read more
Never one to believe my own suspicions regarding how inept I am at most things, I have chosen to become a portrait painter. I have told myself – repeatedly – that I can’t paint people. I may be ok at getting a sketch down, which might resemble a person vaguely Read more
I had an email a few months ago, from a peripatetic (great word!) trumpet teacher at Little Seymour Number Two’s school. The email came through late at night, and was full of praise for my child’s ability to make tunes by blowing through a brass object after a trial session Read more
Why? Just why? What am I doing? I am way out of my depth, and fast losing control of what I thought might be a nice little hobby. Yes, dear readers, The Four Little Seymours’ mummy is now a fully paid-up member of Henfield Amateur Dramatic Society, and is committed Read more
I tidied Mini Seymour’s bedroom the other day. I rearranged it, and put things in a kind of order. Despite the lack of carpet and the mish mash of furniture, it was an improvement. I was happy with my work. Five minutes after leaving the room, I returned to find Read more
It is Day Three of The Holidays and Boy Seymour has just called his sister a fucking idiot. I guess this is to be expected… the incessant sibling holiday agro. But I must admit to being slightly horrified at the language he has chosen to use. I am in no Read more
It was bad enough when Number One went. But Little Seymour Number Two has now gone and got so old, she has had to leave her lovely little village church school and venture to the comp’ down the road, a scary bus drive away… When I started my blog, Number Read more
I can thoroughly recommend “Educated”. It might make you hanker after a Cambridge stint, and the ability to tell stories the way Tara Westover does, but it’ll certainly make you glad you’ve never had to operate heavy, sharp, deadly machinery supervised by a father whose idea of health and safety is trusting in angels.