If there is one thing all teachers over 40 are good at, and I mean gold medal championship winning bloody brilliant at. It is harking back to the good old days.

We stand arms folded like Rigsby in his kitchen, "yes do you remember when..."

The R.E teacher in the room next door started the day with a mug of tea laced with whisky from a bottle he kept in his filing cabinet? (Ha now you know what those filing cabinets are used for!)

When you pushed in front of the kids in the queue.. at the bar of the local pub?

Do you remember when you forgot to go back to work and teach the last lesson?

When you left students behind on a school trip because they were late?

When all the male invigilators of the GCSE exam went to the back of the hall and mooned the kids?

You could thwack the arse of a child with a ruler, simply because he was leaning out of the window instead of working? When you could flick their ears for being rude?

Obviously this is just idle chit chat that I have over heard. Absolutely none of this was me.

Even so my life is just so full of bloody data analysis, self evaluation , risk assessment forward planning, etc, etc, etc Boring boring navel introspective crapola.

What happened to this profession?

Do we really have to be, well professional all the time?

I am currently liking the fact that;

The Apple Mac does not recognise arse or crapola as real words.

That Daisy left her Apple mac behind whilst she wades through gallons of water in some ditch in Wales.

That I am double booked on Sunday, so sadly will miss seeing Leyla getting her butt kicked in, again.