Back to my life (well sort of)

This week, finally, I returned to a 'normal' Andy Clarke week. Doing stuff during the day, rather than just lounging around watching the idiot box. Whilst I will freely admit to enjoying re-runs of Frasier on Paramount Comedy, it is nice to have something to do. When I was in America, I was busy from 8am, until 10pm (at least). But since my return, this source of business hasn't existed. I have been bored out of my blisteringly numb mind.

On Tuesday, I started my new job (or placement) at Chesswood Middle School. And I have to say, that this must have been the easiest first day at a job that I have ever had. I was a little nervous, I'll admit. But who else starts a new job, where they already know most of the staff, most of the protocols, and where most things are? Come November, I'll have volunteered/ worked at the school for 5 years! How time flies when you're having fun...

The majority of the fun at Chesswood this week, came from teachers introducing me to their classes. 'Well children, this morning we are going to be joined by Mr.- (long pause for thought) I'm sorry, I only know you as Andy'. Up until now, I have been able to get away with being called Andy. But with my new job, this has had to change. Even at NTC, the cadets are being told not to call me Andy any more. And I hate being called Mr. Clarke. One of the Teaching Assts. said 'What is your surname anyway... Oh, I can see why you don't like that. It's not very exciting...'. Thanks for that. So I have a dull surname. It matched my dull personality...

Now of course, as I'm sure you can expect, working with kids all day everyday brings up some interesting stories. And hopefully these will emmerge soon. But this week's stories will have to come from elsewhere. So lets fall back on that old rock of CATCOUK stories - the NTC (Nautical Training Corps for newish readers).

Monday evening was my first practice with the Marching Band of TS Intrepid since I left for the states in June. And I returned to find that the percussion section has turned into a hipp-a-croc-a-pig (some really ugly cross between a hippo, a crocodile, and a pig). Without going into the specifics, and making myself sound ultra-dull (as if, I hear you mutter sarcastically), the percussion section was now made up of a variety of different percussive instruments, but only one of each. Not bad when you consider there are 5 (about a third of our band) cadets in the percussion section - each playing a different instrument.

So, in an attempt to give us a percussion sections at least resesmbling something normal, I moved from bass drum, back to my role as an award winning side drummer. Unfortunatly, some git face has taken away my lovely padded leg rest. So now I have to play the drum at a jaunty angle (and not a cool '70s car parking jaunty angle). This caused a spar on the drum to dig into my leg, which gave me a sore bruise for the whole of the week. What I do in the name of marching music.

Some of you may remember that just before going to America, I reluctantly handed in my notice at the most wonderful place in the world - Sainsbury's supermarket. Yeah right. I have been raving about it, ever since I left. Never again do I have to wear their God-awful 1980's polyester uniforms, or make pleasant conversation with the people weird enough to go to Sainsbury's at 9.30 at night. And I was raving to my American friends that I would now have my evenings free to do whatever I liked. It appears that I may have been a little short sighted.

This week has been rather dull. With Michael working all the hours that he upstairs sends, Siobhan away, Dominic at Southampton Uni, and the Adventure Ed mob at placements all over the world, I don't appear to have many friends to meet up with in the evenings. In fact, I have spent my evenings, contemplating suicide with my laptop mouse. Still, beats contemplating suicide by bar code reader at Sainsbury's...

So to all of my friends out there: I NEED TO GET OUT!!!!! Thank you.

Back to that old mainstay - the NTC. Friday night was our first 'deck night' (regular gathering) of the season. To celebrate the fact that I had been in America for a while, I asked permission, and was granted, to wear my Class 'A' Boy Scout of America uniform. The uniform was met with a variety of different views. There are many new cadets at Intrepid that have never met me before, so none of them knew what was going on. Some of my older cadets, and the officers struggled to keep a straight face, especially when it came to salutes. But never mind, I'm sure the mums all appreciated seeing my nobbley knees... yuck!

Lastly, with my bank account reading - please give us some money - I need all the money I can get. After selling my body prooved unsuccesful, I accepted the job with West Sussex Adult and Community Learning (previously West Sussex Adult Education, previously West Sussex Adult Education Service, previoulsy Boundstone Adult Education Centre... you get the picture). What was my job? To give them yet another name to confuse the heck out of adult students? No. Mum (a 'Team Leader' for Lancing and Worthing) wanted me to help drop some leaflets and brochures off.

Now, Mum described this as not much more than being a glorified delivery driver. At this point, I expect my best friends Michael and Dominic are chuckling to themselves. Before we left High School, we all tried to figure out what each other would end up doing as a job. They believed that I would end up being a lorry driver. And everytime I do something that is even remotely related to getting me there, they both make a point of rubbing it in my face. So yes, I am now a delivery driver...

Anyways, the deliveries/ drop-offs were only part of the job. I have always despised the people that stand in the street giving out leaflets, or asking you to participate in surveys. To be honest, who doesn't. I will accept Big Issue sellers, as thats a worthy cause (not that I have ever bought a Big Issue). So what did I find myself doing at 1145 am, on Saturday morning? Thats right kids - cretinously giving out leaflets in Lancing town cen'er (pronounced with out the T in Lancng). Still, beats working at Sainsbury's (did I mention that already?).

It was interesting to see the kind of diversionary tactics that various people would use. There's the sudden facination with something (anything) in that shop window over there. That old faithful - the old fake phone call. For the parents amongst you, the quick check to make sure the baby is still in the pram/ push chair, and hasn't actually been abducted by aliens. Then of course, as a last resort, you can always resort to the emergency turn - now in three choices: as far away from you on the same side of the road; cross the road; or make a U-Turn, and look like you've forgotten something (I don't know, maybe you left the kids in the toaster or something). My personal weapon of choice, has always been avoid making eye-contact. And that really is the secret. If you avoid eye contact, you can get away with it - DON'T LOOK INTO THEIR EYES...

And now my caffeine induced post for this week is at a close. But before I go, I wonder if you know how many people read CATCOUK, here at blogspot.com? A few weeks ago, Siobhan sent me a link to Google Analytics, which collects all sorts of statistics on your website for you. I can tell how long you visited for, what browser you used, what speed internet you have, and where (to the nearest town) in the world you come from. It's all very cool. In one week (27th Aug - 2nd Sep), 57 people visited catcouk.blogspot.com, from 10 different countries, using 5 different internet browsers. Now, I don't think everyone of those visitors could have read the blog (unless you think it can be read in less than 60 seconds. It would appear that 14 people stayed long enough to read the blog. This doens't take into account people that read via live RSS feed (I suppose some of you might), or people that read my feed on Facebook (and people do - they leave comments).

So there you go. I have around 15 readers. Wonderful. I wasted an hour of my life every week, just to keep 14 people happy. I don't know why I bother, I honestly don't...

If you think that I lead a sad and uninteresting life, why not leave a comment, starting you message with 'Oi! Sad sack!'.

If you think that spending an hour a week to chronicle my life for 15 or so individuals is a wise and noble cause, why not leave a comment, starting your messagea with 'It could be worse - you could be working at Sainsbury's'.

Quote of the Week: 'Yeah, it's spelt right. See, F-I-N-K. Fink.' said one 11 year old pupil, when telling me how to spell the word 'think'.