Work for the Working Man

Unbelievably, I am being expected to go to work tomorrow.

You might as well go right ahead and wipe that ‘A Day in the Life’ post from your memory banks (assuming you haven’t done so already) because it ain’t happening again for a long time…

Well, not until Friday at least.

Friday? National Crunchie Day? The ‘Thank God It’s…’ day? That one?

That’s it, you’ve got it in one. The day after Thursday will indeed herald a return to the halcyon days of waving my wife off to work while I think of more words beginning with ‘w’ to continue this impressively-alliterative sentence. Unfortunately, I may need to try and be slightly more productive than I have been over the course of this summer but one thing remains consistent: the day will be mine.

After much bargaining, arm-wrestling, pleading and hunger-strike-threatening, I have secured every Friday off for the foreseeable future to further my foray into the world of unnecessary alliteration, hopefully achieving the added bonus of accomplishing more than was possible these past three years. Excited? You should be.

In the meantime, I need to navigate myself through the next three days of what I like to call ‘actual work’. Contrary to all expectation, I am employed as an English teacher (apologies if this is news to you and you’d now like to trawl all previous posts to hunt down the inevitable errors that render this claim absurd) and so I am all set to jump on the ‘we was robbed’ bandwagon regarding the recent results as we dissect, reflect and something else ending in –ect before settling down to realise that yes it would indeed have been nice if more people had achieved a C grade but what are you going to do?

I’m not sure what we’ll do, to be honest, but at some stage groups of students will appear before me and I’ll be expected to string a few sentences together. Perhaps some of them will even smile at a few of them or offer me a nod of appreciation, doffing their metaphorical cap in my direction as they stride out of the classroom thanking me for all I have taught them?

Or perhaps I will dream of Crunchies and will hum along to Friday, I’m in Love (stay tuned for that inevitable blog title) while all around me is chaos?

Whatever happens, there’ll be no Twitter checking or time spent gazing out of the window wondering why on earth my package hasn’t been delivered yet. No, professional man that I am I give you this promise: I will be at work and I will give it my all for four days every week.

But not the fifth day. Oh no. That’ll be mine. Always mine.