I know it's an old cliche (still haven't worked out how to put that blasted 'accent' over the damn 'e' yet...bloody thing), but it really rung true last week.
I don't know about you, but I am not a fan of Monday mornings. Even typing the words produces a snarl on my face. My weekend always rushes past me faster than the Delorean at full speed, and the two short days I have to myself never feel long enough. I have always been atrocious at getting up in the morning, my mum often likes to retell the story, to anyone who will listen, about the time at the age of four I burst into tears and struggled through my sobs to ask if I had 'been naughty' after she informed me that we had to leave the house at 5am to be able to board our ferry (to go on holiday) on time. She still finds this story as funny as the day I broke down in tears all those years ago. She's a woman of simple pleasure, as you can see. I have always been a complete Night Owl and find it far easier to remain awake for hours on end rather than drag myself away from my slumber in the early hours of the morning.
During my time on my teaching practice I have been rising at 6.30am each and every day, which for me is hell. I know it's pitiful to hate mornings as much as I do and I really don't have anything to begrudge or wail about; it's just a morning after all. I do try not to moan; whether I succeed or not is another matter entirely. Ever since I was little I get a sickly feeling in the pit of my stomach if I have to wake too early which remains with me for the majority of the day. I am improving though and even prefer it when I have risen early, as I have a far more productive day...what progress! With all this being said, my heart can't help but sink ever so slightly when that alarm goes off at 6.30am on yet another day of pretending to be a teacher.
You can imagine then the great surprise to me last Monday morning when I found myself ready for the school week almost half an hour early. I was even able to have a leisurely breakfast in my kitchen, an entirely alien concept to me, and I still managed to stroll into the school early (I hate to think how smug my smile was...). Not only this, but as I walked the short distance from the arrival spot of my bus to the school itself, I found myself smiling contently. What!? Did I not realise it was way before 8am and I was heading to a mainstream class and not a special needs one?? Who on earth had I turned into? There was only one thing that had changed from all those other tedious mornings heading into school, and that was that the sun was out in full force and there was not a cloud in the sky. It was bloody magnificent! Could that really be the only reason for my good mood though? Yes, in short. It really was as simple as that; the sun was out and everything looked just marvellous, even if it was more than a wee bit nippy. Who knew that such a simple thing could change my morning mood so completely. If you knew me and my general mood during the wee small hours, then you will realise what a one-eighty this was.
I have in previous posts mentioned my best friend, The Blonde One, but I haven't mentioned that I am lucky enough to have two best friends. Believe me, I know how very 'primary school' that sounds, but it is true. There's not a day go past when I don't smile about how lucky I am to have not one but two girls that I love so completely I couldn't live without them. The more people I meet in my life the more I realise how rare it is to have one friend that you can share your entire world with and I am lucky enough to have two. To rub it in just that bit more, the three of us are as close as I am to each of them separately. I very often get to spend the evening with two of my very favourite people at the same time and it never ceases to amaze me how much fun we have, especially when we are doing absolutely nothing whatsoever.
On Friday night I spent the evening with 'The One That Isn't The Blone One'; ok, that's far too much of a mouth full, so let's just call her 'Dynasty'. I had one of the most enjoyable evenings I have had in a long time. We weren't drinking, we didn't go out anywhere special nor did we have a majorly exciting night-in planned. No, we simply sat on her bed in her Studio apartment in North London drinking far too much Diet Coke Gold and watching Comic Relief. But that's the beauty of a best friend isn't it. I often become far more high and altogether ridiculous when drinking Diet Coke Gold with Dynasty than on an evening out with others I know. I really don't mean this an insult to my other friends, far from it, but there is something about spending time with Dynasty doing very little that always regenerates me so entirely that I leave her feeling as if I have had a long weekend at a spa resort. I know which one my bank balance prefers, and frankly, I bloody well agree.
This has lead me to the conclusion that it really is the simplest things in life that turn my week around; the sun shinning; getting high on Diet Coke Gold, pondering through the 'buyagift' catalogue to see what delights could await us when we choose to spend Dynasty's gift voucher (our favourite was a Llama experience in Devon...but it's all the way in Devon. Damn you, Devon. Damn you!) and getting mocked for my very dyslexic ways. Oh and *blushes with pride* receiving a hand made card from the most enthusiastic pupil on placement decorated with hearts and the most darling drawing of me as a 'princess'. If I asked his mum nicely, can I keep him??
And now, as I sit here, the sun is shinning once again and I am awaiting the arrival of two of my favourite girls from the University of Shiteland that are guaranteed to help me rant my frustration out as they did all those weeks ago when I first started this blog. Bliss, I tell thee, utter bliss. Sunglasses at the ready...I think so!
P.S. What could I possibly have to moan about after reading that post, I hear you ask? There is always something; as I mentioned once before...ranting is just good for the soul!
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