The last two and a half weeks have been such a mad frenzy of Ofsted, end of term string tying and festivities, I haven't managed to fit any time in to digest any fat. I've had my annual Christmas party in my flat and after accidentally ending up with 26 types of cheese, have been living off cheese ever since so already have my Christmas paunch before it's even begun! I've had The Boy's works do, two different departmental nights out and a whole school end of term shindig. On top of all of this, there have been various meet-ups, thirtieths and I've attended my first fuddle (at least, my first, knowing it is actually called this).
If, like me, the word “fuddle” is new to you, you'll find most definitions unhelpful as on-line reference sites generally define a “fuddle” as a “state of confusion or intoxication”. The intended meaning my department head had in mind for our lunchtime session was the dialectal word hailing from Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and Bedfordshire. In these places “fuddle” apparently refers to a picnic or party where attendees bring their own food. Food was certainly brought and consumed but sadly rather a lot of cheese still remains; it's once again ready to travel to yet more festivities elsewhere where I'm sure I'll end up in a bit of a fuddle... Happy Christmas everyone!