Hallelujah! Can't touch me now!

I'm now officially good at teaching. This may surprise you, but you'll have to accept that your perceptions are seriously warped. Buffet lunch was every bit as good as the course.

So well suited

Here I am again, wearing a classic tailored suit once more - after some teaching this morning, it's lunch and my teaching qualification award - let's hope my Maximum Leader can forget that I've asked her to resign in front of a couple of hundred people long enough to shake hands and smile. I'll be on my best behaviour - as always.

Tasks for today: marking, teaching, re-reading 'Brokeback Mountain' in preparation for a course I'm doing at the end of the week (something about early career English lecturing). There's a Virtual Learning Environment (i.e. webpage) task to do before we turn up. I also need to read The Winter's Tale for Thursday, and prepare my case for the Licensing Committee tomorrow: the empty restaurant beneath my flat wants to open and have live music until 4 a.m. I'm less than impressed. Perhaps a darker, more severe suit is required for that one.

Finally, I'm off to the German Market with Emma tonight - Birmingham's huge, authentic and expensive version of the classic German Christmas experience. Glühwein, sausages, beautiful handmade gifts for people. Rain. Brummies. Hmm… maybe not so authentic.

Clean bowled

Well, that just about wraps it up for me. I've handed in a slipshod essay and Australia have handed the innings to England with about the same due care and attention - currently 150-7.

The humping dog USB object is still bothering me. There's a factory in China staffed by virtual slaves existing on a bowl of rice per day, churning out millions of humping dog USB sticks for decadent westerners.

Almost forgot: don't forget David Mitchell on Desert Island Discs (BBC Radio 4) on Sunday morning. I have a feeling it's going to be a weird, overly-familiar ride.

Bowling my superiors a Googly

The cricket coverage is here. England collapsed in the lower order, then recovered for a while courtesy of Anderson and Onions. I know that some of you (in particular, Mrs Cynical Ben) wanted less sport, but I'm making an exception for fencing (because I actually do it) and cricket because it's an art.

The work proceeds excessively slowly because a) it's really dull and b) I don't know what I'm doing. The latter will be hidden under layers or smart-arse academic speak - I've already cited Derrida in French and gone on about the joys of poststructuralism, neither of which they'll understand. That's the way to communicate contempt…

Nightwatchman

I'm so bored with this educational theory essay, exacerbated by the knowledge that I've got to get it done by tomorrow - no chance for bunking off.

I've had the cricket on in the background (the Guardian's wonderful OBO coverage: one day they'll print one of my puns) and it's been a humdinger. England started brilliantly, then relied on their legends to arse things up - big collapse in the middle order, led by Pietersen throwing his wicket away, Bopara and Collingwood doing likewise, then Flintoff marking his final Test with a magnificent 4 runs. After bowling uselessly all day, Australia must be jubilant with 364-6 (Strauss 161no)

Ale and hearty

Morning all. Well, it's 2.30 but feels like the morning to me, as I took half the day off. I didn't even go swimming.

I had a quiet drink in my local, beautiful, Victorian gin-palace last night. Amazingly, pretty much everyone I know turned up, presented me with brilliant, thoughtful presents, and supplied me with as many foaming jugs of ale as I could manage. Laura's Nun Bowling set was pressed into much use, and I also received lots of book tokens, a pristine copy of Harold Laski's Faith, Reason and Civilisation from Alan and Helen (I collect Left Book Club volumes), a compass from Keiti and Co., some ace SF from Gabi, and British Potters' Marks from Emma. The reasoning behind that was my Stoke connections and a determination not to buy a book I already have! My colleagues forsook their partners and children, John came over from Shrewsbury and I was overwhelmed with everybody's kindness, so thanks. I'm especially grateful to the advice on how to meet girls from Gabi and Penny (the university's leading Women's Studies expert, and therefore One Who Knows).

I wasn't, therefore, feeling altogether hale this morning, hence the laziness. Neal and Dan cooked a fine, if unorthodox breakfast of mutton chops, aubergines, mushrooms and poached eggs, then I wandered into university to find that I had to go to union negotiating committee, which really did end the festivities. Now on with my PGCE essay…

Another wasted Friday

That's enough for today. I've been in the office for several hours and got very little done other than deal with e-mail from yesterday's day off. I've wasted a large amount of time contributing to the Guardian's Readers Recommend list (unemployment today - I didn't have many tracks) and despatched notes to various people (if you were expecting e-mail from me today, it's because I try to put substantial time aside for substantial responses).

I'm just feeling a little weary after yesterday's highs and lows. I skipped swimming this morning due to exhaustion, and I'm not in the mood to read the two inches of papers I've printed out for this PGCE essay on curriculum design. I'll do some tomorrow. I also need to find some way to prepare for Sunday's fencing competition. I haven't fenced regularly for a few months due to work, and haven't competed for a year or so - coaching slows you down. Still it's always fun to humiliate yourself in front of your coaches and old foes. I'm considerably lighter and fitter than a year ago though, so maybe that will make up for some of the rustiness.

So tonight - a few drinks in the usual haunts, with the tragic exception of the Little Civic, cruelly snatched from Wolverhampton's social scene. No longer will I be accosted by drunk strangers with the words 'you failed my essay' while I'm trying to organise my feet for the tricky break in The Only One I Know. Happy days…

What are you all doing this weekend? Staying in Wolves?

Death to… well, somebody. A recount, at least.

The Iranians are participating in the democratic process with some energy today. Follow it live here, or (if you must), at twitter (#iranelection).

I'm in the office (of course) avoiding looking at my final PGCE essay. Instead, I'm trying to quell the panic while I fail to understand what I should be doing with my Workload Allocation Form, Scholarly Activity Form, Appraisal Form and all the other things which document how much work I couldn't get out of last year, and how much labour will be extracted from me next year. What I really want to do is get back to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, which is actually brilliant, though the author occasionally regresses to American English expressions and spellings. Still, Elizabeth Bennett is even feistier (and perhaps kinkier) than she was in Austen's first attempt.

One more hour

That's almost it. Last day of the PGCE. Only one more essay (on curriculum design) left to do. I'm at the Combermere tonight, but if you're around Walsall, there's a cheese and wine launch for the new Art and Food exhibition at the art gallery. Neal's going, and he's hot!

All quiet on the western front

I'm not ignoring you. I'm on a PGCE day with no power sockets within reach, and my poor old Mac can only last 15 minutes on battery power.

I'm actually having a brilliant day: the lecturer is interesting, interested and very independent-minded. We're discussing intellectual coherence and curriculum design. I won't name him her, or s/he'll be neutralised by the Borg that is the Executive. What's going on in the real world?

Falling over like ninepins in Downing Street

So several ministers have said they'll quit their posts in a few days: Tom Watson, Beverly Hughes, Patricia Hewitt and Jacqui Smith, the Home Secretary. Alastair Darling might go over a matter of £350, though I think he's done a good job in saving the actual economy, and Jeff Whoon is off too. Someone might notice. It's not great politics, making the government look incompetent a couple of days before the European elections. I won't miss many of these people, but when you compare Smith to Charles Clarke and David Blunkett, she was a calm, rational, reasonable and pleasant even when wrong, unlike those revolting predecessors.

BUT: what the hell is going on? All these people are going, yet Hazel Blears, the most blatantly corrupt, dishonest, disloyal and untrustworthy minister of all appears to be going nowhere. Astonishing.

I spent the afternoon in Walsall, speaking my mind to the PGCE's external examiner (every course asks someone at a different university to evaluate the standard of the course every year). I did it as a favour - then found that the last bus left at 3.15, almost an hour before I finished. So in the end it cost me money and two horrible sticky rides lasting an hour and a half to get back to Wolves. I'll have to do it again on Thursday. Not impressed!

We're all off to Walsall, We're all off to Walsall, la la la la

Well, that's it for a few hours. I'm guessing that many of you are out in the sun anyway. I'm off to Walsall on the campus bus, which will be horrible. Not, unfortunately, to visit the Jerome K Jerome Museum: instead I'm going to meet the external examiners for the PGCE and hope they don't ask me any detailed questions. (Jerome's Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow almost made it as the name of this blog).

Still, lunch with Bec, which is always fun. I've also just ordered Sarah Waters' The Little Stranger and China Miéville's The City and the City to keep my average up.

I got a free book in the post yesterday too. LibraryThing members can request one of a number of review copies provided by publishers. I'm a bit behind with the ones I wanted to review, which is a bit naughty. This latest one is a proof copy of Giles Foden's Turbulence, which is set in the meteorology world prior to D-Day. Excellent: I need to read about rain to take my mind off the relentless searing heat!

Living the high life

I've often teased Emma for being a typical Man U fan: foreign, lives a long way from Manchester etc. Now I know it's true because I've just received this text:

Just boarded. Drinking champagne. It's a hard life.

She's not flying with Ryanair, that's for sure.

What are you all doing this weekend? I'm going for a walk around Bridgnorth tomorrow, in the company of the Map Twats. Then we're going to find Birmingham's finest indie clubs to celebrate Dan's birthday. On Sunday, I'm going to finish all the marking. Then on Monday I'm off to Aston Uni for a conference on how to get an academic career. I always thought 'career' was what happened when your brakes failed…

Then on Tuesday it's off to Walsall to explain to the PGCE external examiner what a brilliant teacher I am (ho ho ho).

Validated!

Got an A for my observed teaching and reflection on my own teaching practice! My mentor sat in on my first 'sex in poetry' workshop, a lecture which tried to explain the credit crunch, and some one-to-one tutorials. Thanks for resisting the opportunity to trip me up and for laughing at my jokes, those of you who were there!

It's also a good day in other ways: I received Grizzly Bear's 'Veckatimest' and Sufjan Stevens' 'Illinois', and the latest in the Library of Wales series, Brenda Chamberlain's A Rope of Vines and Stuart Evans's The Caves of Alienation.

A home without books is a body without soul. (Cicero)

That's enough for today. My claw-hand aches, my eyes hurt, and I've finished the PGCE stuff for now. I've received two books and ordered three, and spent the day torturing my colleagues with Juliana Hatfield. I've also bought tickets for Serious Money on Wednesday. (Student tickets are £15). All in all, not a bad day. Now home - to do some ironing and watch Heroes! Or perhaps to read.

Oh for St. Monday

Morning all. What does today have in store for you? I'm off swimming in a few minutes, then it's back to the office to write one more insincere PGCE essay, then the marking marathon begins…

Escape at last

I'm giving up before my potty-mouth gets me in more trouble. I haven't even been able to follow the cricket today. Hope Onions did well again. See you all on Monday.

What's the worst piece of software you've ever used?

A bit nerdy I know, but I'm boiling with fury.

Windows doesn't count, by the way. Not that I use it.

I'm nominating PebblePad. If you work in the real world, it's a proprietary e-portfolio designed by someone in Wolves University.

PebblePad has been designed to three key tenets: advanced functionality, maximum flexibility and simple usability

Bollocks. I'm a semi-professional geek. I love computing, so if I'm screaming at this pixellated turd, it's definitely crap. It's older than my gran and less user-friendly. To upload a document requires a training session and a MINIMUM of ten actions, none of them intuitive. It runs slower than than a disabled snail and has all the grace of a Bosch gargoyle. Half the PGCE course was spent trying to make us use this bloody thing, until they realised that the only way to do it was to make us submit our work using it. The effect, however, is to reinforce my hatred and determination that none of you, students, will ever have to go near it on any of my courses again (if I keep my job after this post of course).

I'm having to listen to a lot of Sigur Ros to keep my blood pressure down.

I'm adding 'use PebblePad' to the 'list of things I won't do for love'.

Insert content here

I'm horribly busy today, and not enjoying a bit of it - the PGCE is weighing on my mind. The sun's shining, the cricket's chuntering away happily (Windies 70-2), and I've no time to blog in any serious way. Perhaps later. Try to entertain yourselves in my relative absence. Perhaps argue about the merits of association football in the comments section. Or tease Christians.

Anyone else following the cricket?

If not, England are struggling but Bopara's doing well. I'm meant to be writing PGCE essays but the force is weak in this one. England 224-5, Bopara 97, Broad 16.