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!
