Housework.  Hate it.  In fact I'm the Undomestic Goddess. But it's a new year and time to start sweeping out them there cobwebs, so that's exactly what I'm doing.  Five black bin liners (and counting) later and a whole lot of spit and polish not to mention sweeping and my place is beginning to look almost cared for...yay go me!

But tonight I'm cleaning out my closet.   And oh my fucking God, how much crap a girl can accumulate...It's kind of horrifying, really.

I'd love to hear the late, great Ted Hughes read one of his earliest poems, ' O Lady.'

To quote The Dixie Chicks.  Saw the first trailer for the new series of Spooks last night.   Talk about hitting the parts that other trailers don't...

Or rather she-wolf.  I had another tattoo done last week (I only had two others so I'm not covered in 'em) a rather lovely design of a she-wolf I found sometime back.  I have a rule with tattoo designs; if I see something I want, I make myself wait 3 - 4 months and put it on my notice board, so I see it daily.  If I still love it when the 3 - 4 months are up, then I get it done.  I only have 'em in places where I can hide easily...I'm a teacher and it's still a conservative profession in some ways, which is fair enough.

I sometimes get a bit annoyed, though.  Tattoos are not everyone's cuppa.  I respect that.  I'm not a fan of people being heavily tattooed, though that's their choice and again I respect that.  But I get a bit tired of people saying to me, 'what happens when you get old?'  They'll still be there is what.  I'll get them re-inked over the years as necessary to keep them looking sharp.  But regret them?  Never.  They're part of the fabric of my life and who I am.  I waited long enough to have them.

Each of them means something.  The rather naughty looking angel the top of my shoulder is for my Dad.  He told me before he died, 'if you're ever worried, or alone or afraid, you aren't.  Look behind you because I'll be the angel at your shoulder.'   It reminds me that although Dad is gone in a physical, sense, he isn't really, because he lives on in me.

The phoenix in the middle of my lower back is for rebirth, which when I had it done signified an enormous amount of upheaval in my life.  But I was bloody spooked after to discover that the emblem of my Dad's old school, Sheffield City Grammar has an emblem that's a phoenix...I had no idea then.

So why a wolf, now?  I think they're beautiful creatures.  I know there's a whole bunch of stuff on them about being totem animals...I'm reading about this and it's fascinating.  I just like the idea of them as a kind of guardian, even though I've not made any investigations into what my totem animal might be...

I killed two photocopiers and my fucking printer in a matter of mere hours.  Top that.  Go on.  I dare you.

Because there's a little piece in the Sun Magazine today about the upcoming series of Spooks, starring none other than Richard Armitage.  I'm sad, I know.  One of these days I'll actually get myself a life...

I thought quite honestly I'd be out of a job.  Not due to anything I've done, but a drop in class sizes.  But it looks like it's running anyhow.  Colour me stunned.

Already.  I think I've discovered my personal Waterloo at what I'm prepared to do in order to keep a job.  Goddess help me, where to go from here?  That, as Shakespeare said, is the whole bleeding rub.  Okay, words to that effect.

It's a lovely later summer afternoon and I'm cooped up with the computer doing ILP's.  Someone remind me why I became a teacher, mmm?