I'm All In A Fuddle

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!

No Cat Walks But Plenty of Pretty Kitties

When I was a child, we had a Siamese tabby point cat. One year my mum decided he was such a character, he ought to be entered in a local cat show. Oscar was a pretty handsome boy and exceedingly good-natured so it was no surprise when he won a rosette. I can't remember much about the experience other than him being weighed and people cooing around him.

More than twenty years on, I re-lived the experience at the cat equivalent of Crufts: The Supreme Cat Show. Four of us ventured over to Birmingham for the night with pre-booked tickets, excited “Cat Day” had finally arrived and unsure of what to expect. Checking out impressive Comic-Con costumes on the way over, expectations were high.

We all hoped for some kind of cat assault course but unfortunately cats don't seem to be deemed suitable for such qualifiers. Instead, there was an enormous hall with a centre section of cat-related merchandise both for meows and their owners surrounded by cats of every breed imaginable and yet more stalls lining the walls.

There was very little to see or do, aside from judges inspecting cats and talks on how to treat cat diarrhoea. But it was still awesome because we got to go around meeting all sorts of dudey cats, gawp at comical fairytale-themed display cages and marvel at some rather eccentric owners, decked out in cat print clothes and jewellery.

On the whole the cats looked happy, despite some rather paranoid owners putting signs on cages warning against strokes and contact in fear of diseases being spread. Here are some favourite mementos from the day:

For fatty cats with balance who have VERY rich owners.

British Blues are awesome!

You can actually get four poster cat/dog beds too.

Cyber Monday Christmas “Must Haves”

Having browsed several different Christmas markets at the weekend and noted a strange pattern of stalls selling diamanté encrusted skulls, I thought I'd see what inspiration the web has to offer. Here are my favourite oddities and top trends:

1) Those keen to waste money can purchase “Nothing” .

2) For any South Park fans, you can buy your very own Mr Hanky.

3) Human moths can purchase from a weird selection of light-up novelties, ranging from show laces to laser fingers. And my personal favourite...

4) Anyone aiming for an erotic present that is more likely to be a laughable turn-off than prompt apres-dinner delight can opt for this pair of pudding nipple tassels.

5) For that hard-to-please relative, perhaps something from the extensive grow-your-own range is the answer. Think buddhas, yachts, pink convertibles, geeks, black taxis, London buses... pretty much anything!

6) For the truly awful, why not purchase a blue Justin Bieber teddy bear that has no real relevance to the Biebster, aside from having his name printed on its hoodie.

7) Finally, purchase an awful sign the recipient of your gift is likely to be too embarrassed to ever display.

If any of these take your fancy get in there before Cyber Monday on December 2.

Professional Misjudgement

Advancements in technology have resulted in weightier workloads as colleagues think nothing of sending multiple e-mails. In the past the necessity to create paper signs or hand-outs meant people were often more discerning, keen not to stretch restrictive photocopying budgets. These days, sending an e-mail is quick and cost effective, also ensuring there's always a point of reference if required. Unfortunately click happy colleagues significantly increase the amount of time I have to spend sifting through scores of e-mails to find information deemed important and relevant to me.

Each morning before my working day even technically begins, I have approximately twenty e-mails that multiply at an alarming rate throughout the day and this of course takes time to sort through - time I don't rally have. At the end of work this week, I'd failed to check my e-mails and again, had a daunting number of unread newbies awaiting my attention. A shocked colleague drew my attention to one e-mail someone had sent round to everyone in the wrong school. Intending to send this to staff in our partner school, “Jane The Pain”, seemed to judge the following to be perfectly acceptable to send out to colleagues and mark “For Females Only” in the subject box:

“Whoever has pebble dashed the end toilet in the ladies staff room toilets please clean it up after yourself next time, instead of leaving it to the cleaners! iI you cant be bothered to clean the toilet seat and toilet I hate to think what your knickers must be like.”

As someone who carefully proofs and re-reads all my e-mails, I was just as shocked as my colleague to be sent the above and can't help but agree Jane is indeed a pain and a rather unprofessional one at that!

High In Wizz

We've almost exhausted Ryanair's destination list so have decided to brave WizzAir. Our first Wizz flight takes us to Bucharest and we're curious to see how the experience will compare to its rival. Our flight leaves an hour late without any announcements admitting this is the case until we're actually finally on board and about to leave. As a mini hurricane is forecast, I'm happy to excuse the lateness but less impressed by the lack of information and Wizz sharing Ryanair's ludicrous policy of no allocated seats without additional cost.

We're part of an ever-changing queue as latecomers saunter up, hovering around the boarding desk, only to blatantly queue-jump in the final moment. An elderly lady, dressed as I'd image Oscar Wilde's Lady Bracknell, feigns ignorance acting as if she has no understanding of how to queue, as if her age somehow excuses her behaviour. She sits away from the queue until there's movement then she holds her head high, putting on airs, pretending not to notice those of us who've been standing for almost an hour. Strolling to the front, she stands beside two others, avoiding all eye contact to look towards her goal – the check-in desk. No-one challenges her and as she boards well ahead of us, I wish I'd been further forward to say something.

Finally on the plane and it feels even more cramped than Ryanair. It's near on impossible to sleep, the seats are so uncomfortable and flight crew are elusive when needed. The only way to survive is by reading the flight away. Over the past few weeks I've been so busy, I've to had work during my morning commute so have a back-log of newspapers to get through. Perusing several of these, provides the necessary entertainment to wile away the time. I read about a blind man stopped for speeding in Sheffield who swapped seats when finally stopped and had the audacity to claim, “It wasn't me driving. I'm blind.” There's the well-wisher in Thailand who was arrested after donating methadone to flood victims in Sattahip, hoping they'd be able to raise funds by selling on the drugs. And Frederik Colting, a Swedish inventor, who has come up with an idea for, The Tikker, a watch that counts down to death, taking account of individual stats.

Five newspapers later, I make it to Bucharest unscathed and so does my bag. The service provided makes Wizz comparable to Ryanair and it's hard to say if either budget airline is superior. There's much less of a hard sell during our Wizz flight with tannoy announcements kept to the minimum but Ryanair's seats felt marginally more comfortable. The return journey back from Bucharest runs more smoothly with a slightly more roomy plane, suggesting Wizz may well be the victors but with only one Wizz journey to go on, perhaps more testing if needed.

Guilty Gigs

At some unknown point in my adult life, films became a priority over music. So many albums and films are released constantly that keeping up with all of them is a daunting and virtually impossible task. I used to be a huge gig-goer and as a teen, I'm ashamed to admit I used to be a bit of an autograph collector, regularly frequenting Tunbridge Well's Forum where I saw bands like Feeder before they “made it”.

Through University, my annual aim was three festivals a year and plenty of gigs in between. It's very hard to pinpoint when all of this changed; these days I'm averaging a weekly trip to the cinema but rarely even listen to albums or music, even on the radio. I was encouraged to stop buying CDs some time ago as living in a flat, I have limited space and I'm a bit of a hoarder - my tape collection is still in storage tucked away in a hard-to-reach spot at my parents' house.

The arrival of Spotify virtually removed the need to ever purchase an album, leaving me to guiltily watch my first gig in some time this week. I've wanted to see My Vitriol for years – they're one of the few bands on my “must see” list that are still going – albeit, only just. They've only recorded two albums (although they're technically referred to as one re-packaged double album) and new material hasn't been released since 2002. They've toured since then and the timing of my world travels meant I missed them playing London by a few weeks.

Going to see them in Manchester, I was almost expecting a cancellation so was delighted to see them on stage. They rocked, despite the normal irritating sound troubles that result in vocals being far too faint. The support act Bleech had an appealing 90s' sound, tempting me to purchase their CD. Checking out the merchandise stall, I discovered it would set me back a crisp £10 note. Umming and ahhing, I was soon put straight by The Boy who instructed me to test them out on Youtube first.

Thinking back to days of old, I felt enormously guilty. Back in my youth, I'd think nothing of buying a CD of a random and would have been prancing around, sweating profusely and grinning inanely, like some of the marginally younger crowd members in Gorilla. I, instead, watched from afar, leaning against the side wall, clutching a weighty trench coat, sweating not from exertion but from the sheer weight of my coat and workload in my rucksack I'd had to complete on the train journey to Manchester. Oh, how times have changed!

Returning home, I felt all the more guilty to discover the album I'd contemplated buying was indeed on Spotify in its entirety. I wonder, if Spotify didn't exist, would I still be buying the odd CD? Is my new mentality to blame or is technology?

Returning To The Nineties

As I approach the terrifying age of 34, I've regressed twenty years and just had my second brace fitted. Back in 1992 I had train tracks glued onto the top and bottom of my exceedingly gappy enormous bolder-sized rabbit teeth. Two years later when my teeth were deemed corrected, I remember the strange sensation of running my tongue over smooth enamel, falsely believing I'd never have to wear a brace again.

Fast-forward eighteen years and my rather stubborn teeth suddenly decided to re-wonk themselves, despite the metal bar still glued behind them. Having already been through the delights of having a brace once before, I've always been over-protective about my teeth, even giving up smoking when I thought it was affecting my gums. Seeing my teeth re-goofying themselves really annoyed me and I've been contemplating re-arming them once again for some time.

Temporarily working in my last school, I came across two teachers preparing for their weddings by getting braces and one of my best friends has also since strapped up. Finally finding an orthodontist that was marginally more reasonably priced, I did the deed two weeks today and I'm already counting down the days until its removal: five and a half months remaining if all goes well....

Having it fitted was an odd sensation. Wearing science lab style perspex safety specs, my mouth was held open by something the orthodontist described as like a scuba mask, ensuring my teeth remained dry while the tracks were glued. My mouth was stretched open for so long, it felt numb like I'd been administered an anaesthetic.

Once the metal bar behind my teeth and the rubbery mouth jack were removed, all feeling instantly returned and I had the odd sensation of being able to feel the smooth surface of the back of my teeth for the first time in two decades. The brace itself was rather more discreet than the silver grey of the nineties, easier to clean and as I've already had four adult teeth removed and been through it all once before, the entire experience less traumatic.

The first few days after I'd armoured up, my gums were tender and eating exceedingly messy. In addition to my beloved chewing gum, I'd been advised to avoid curries or foods with tomato sauces and was really starting to feel rather sorry for myself. Without walking around with teeth caked in food, snacking was out. My morning routine included packing a toothbrush for work and toothpaste/mouthwash now have their own special place in my classroom. Water is a necessity with every meal in order to attempt to swill out trapped foods. Without being melodramatic, it is safe to safe my life has changed considerably. How much so, only time will tell over the coming weeks...