On idiots of various sorts

Ever since we have moved into our little cottage I have been cycling to school. I am proud to say that I am getting more and more confident on my bike and develop more and more normal speeds now. My first ride to school was 40 minutes. Now I’m at 25 and I tend to prefer roads to pavements (at least on my way to school – in the afternoon there are way too many cars!).

I have however quickly understood that most drivers don’t give much heed to us cyclists. Like the idiot who was stationary right across the red way the other day, even if he had plenty of driveway in front and in the back. Did he move when he saw me? No. What for if I can get off my bike and go around him like a good girl?

Like the idiot who sped off the roundabout the other day on a red light that he did not see because he was busy looking for something on the floor of his car. He probably didn’t notice the fact that he almost took my front wheel off either. Thank God I was slow getting on my bike!

And finally yesterday’s idiot – I was nearing a roundabout where I turn right so I needed to get into the right lane. Now, indicating right is really hard. I stick my arm out but I wobble and stress and all. So I hate doing it. Still, since I knew there was a car behind me, I stuck my arm out and after a few seconds started changing lanes. And that idiot decided to still take me over and get onto the roundabout a few centimetres in front of me sharply getting back into the left lane cause he was going straight.

Still, the most disgusting story of all is probably that of an 11 years old girl from Paul’s form who was knocked off her bike by a reversing car. The driver did not even get out. He stuck his head out of his window and shouted abuse at her.

Not even an idiot that. A sorry excuse for a human being.

I’m back!

Until yesterday I have been completely cut off from the internet (if you don’t count school, but the network won’t let me access the interesting sites anyway) – hence the long silence. An update is therefore due – lots to tell, could type pages, but will do it in brief:

The school is great. Love it. Absolutely. As of yesterday I even have a form. Inherited from a teacher who was too burdened by his personal problems to remain a good form tutor. They’re spoilt. They lack both care and discipline. They’re year 9 so their hormones are through the roof. It will take a lot of hard work, sweat and tears before I break them into decent human beings. But I will. And in the meantime I shall be faithfully reporting on all the jewels coming out of their mouths.

We’ve moved into our little cottage on September 5th and it hasn’t stopped since. Boxes. CD towers. A drill. More boxes. Throws and cushions (cause we are happy owners of a very comfortable yet seriously ugly couch). Some more boxes. Mirror in the bathroom. Desk up into the loft – take it apart, put it together. Yet more boxes. Shower curtain (cause as it was taking a shower implied a flood in the bathroom). Change address with school, bank… Internet. Boxes… gah.

Weekend? Sorry, what?

At this point we are connected to the outside world (and right on time, as am expecting loads of birthday messages tomorrow!), we don’t have to mop the bathroom every morning, the living room is done and box-free.
The loft contains desk, computer, two chairs, some piles of books and… boxes.
The bedroom is ok but contains unpacked bags.
The conservatory is full of boxes (although some of them empty).
But we have bird feeders in the garden.
And we know how recycling works.
We’re home.