Open Writing

Monday

Back to school for the kids, but not for me! Hurray!

It felt very good to sit in front of the fire at lunchtime, lingering over my mushy pea sandwiches, date and walnut cake and warming coffee, knowing I had saved myself the agony of shuddering around a freezing cold playground for an hour and ten minutes. I gave up my job as a lunchtime supervisor just before half term.

Went swimming in the afternoon. Had to brave the sports centre pool as the stadium pool is closed to the public on Monday afternoons. I always wonder why I bother putting myself through the torture of the cold water, but then the feeling of rejuvenation and better circulation I get for a whole day after makes up for just forty-five minutes of counting how many more lengths I have to go before getting warm.

I generally avoid the sports centre whenever possible because the water is considerably colder then the stadium’s pool (well at least by 1 degree C).

As I changed apprehensively behind the curtain I heard off-putting sounds, ‘Brrr, that WAS cold, wasn’t it?’ and thought about putting my clothes back on.

Asked the girl in the changing room next door if it was cold. She was a large girl and I presumed she’d have found the water warm as she must have a lot of cholesterol around her, and that would have given me a false sense of security.

However, even she had found it cold. Tried to complain that the temperature must be faulty to the poolside staff, hoping they would instantly raise it in the next five minutes. All I got was a smirk and the usual excuse:

‘Yes, if it’s warm outside it can sometimes feel cold in the pool.’ (It was fpur degrees outside!) . ‘..also, we have so many training squads in here that the pool needs to be kept at a lower temperature, to stop them sweating.’

As far as I know, the main training squads go to the stadium pool and they don’t seem to find any problem with the temperature. And I have never met anyone who has got sweaty in an English swimming pool.

Anyway braved the pool and the kids who obviously hadn’t all gone back to school yet. Tried to sympathise as I clashed with legs being lowered from handstands. I was that age once, and was probably more of a menace as I had a resentment towards ladies who delicately swam with perfectly lacquered coiffeurs. I used to deliberately splash them with water to ruin their hairdos.

Had my ‘introduction to counselling skills class in the evening’. Watched a video featuring Carl Rodgers in a counselling session with a young man who said he drank a glass of water every time he tried to face his problems, to avoid them. I wonder if it works?

Wednesday

As it was snowing I once more woke up jubilant that I wouldn’t have to shudder around a cold playground for an hour and ten minutes. However, I actually felt quite sad as I passed the school on the way down to my computer class and the boys dodging around outside said, ‘Aww, don’t you work as a dinner lady no more, miss?’

Tried to explain about the job centre putting pressure on me to get more work but I couldn’t think how to put it in a not too grown up way and they knitted their eyebrows, but nodded anyway.

They then began to whine. “Aww, but that’s not fair miss.. You were the best dinner lady! You were kinder than all the others’. ‘Yeah, that’s right, miss.
Y’ never go’ us done!’

I plodded through IT principles Unit 10; bits, bytes, kilobytes and gigabytes…so tedious! I have managed quite adequately with my computer for the last eight years, without knowing this, and other information, such as how to disassemble the inside .

I mean, if it did break down, no way would I trust myself to fix it...can’t wait until this module is over and I can move on to desk top publishing. There’s a moralizing screensaver which flashes across our screens pointing a finger, ‘Remember, that you chose to do IT principles when you enrolled for the course..’

Clearly other people have the same antipathy. Actually, though, we were too ignorant to know what it would entail when we first signed up and the tutors said it was an essential for all students (i.e. they only get funding from the government if we take the option) To alleviate the boredom I once more broke the no-eating/drinking at the computer terminal rule, and snacked on dried figs, apricots and brazil nuts. Even managed to eat and peel a banana without being spotted.

Thursday

A slippery start after the snow last night but at least it was sunny. I had the morning free. Am living with my parents at the moment and on Thursdays my mum is at work in the morning and my dad does the shopping after dropping her off (she works in Asda so it’s very convenient..10% discount into the bargain!).

I enjoy pottering around the house complaint-free, playing music and using the computer without being interrupted. (It’s not the children but the parents who are addicted to computer games in this household).

My favourite Thursday morning activity is baking. I was recently diagnosed as a coeliac (gluten intolerant) and therefore cannot eat ‘normal’ bread or cake. I get special gluten-free flour mixes on prescription and love experimenting with them.

There are many coeliac societies with websites which have colourful recipes to print off. They have names which make me want to vomit, like glutafin, bi-aglut and glutano but despite their congealing sounds, they produce delicious recipes.

Anyway, at the weekend I bought a new bread-maker, hoping my cake and bread would reach ultimate perfection in the world of baking. Set about creating a date, banana and walnut cake on Saturday but alas! It resembled a squashed toasted sandwich upon completion and did not rise.

It also chopped up the dates and walnuts so finely that, for me, it ruined the pleasure of eating it. There’s nothing more satisfying than biting into a surprisingly gooey bit of date or crunchy walnut in a piece of cake. Also, I have no idea why it needed to kneed a cake mix.

Today’s attempt at a loaf of sunflower seed and honey bread was no better. Although it rose, the inside was hollow, tasted ghastly and collapsed when I tried to slice it.

I have decided to return it to Argos and think I have a case. The description in the catalogue was completely false. It is described as ‘fastbake’, yet takes three hours.

The photo in the catalogue shows two nicely shaped loaves (no doubt bought from a bakery) and how oh how can they be rectangular in the picture when the mould in the bread-maker is square?

Friday

Another sunny morning; no wind. The snow seems to be good snow in that it’s not sludgy and dirty, but quite pretty and you can stamp your feet and make footprints, then search for yours when you retrace your steps.

You can see dog’s paws circling around up to the point where they went to the toilet and then trotted back to the large set of trainer prints which must have belonged to their owner.