There was a vague sense of hysteria in the air today: the last day of term. I don't think I have ever experienced such a roller-coaster term, and I am very glad to bid it farewell.
The day started with the obligatory Friday coffee and sausage sandwich stop. Things were a bit hairy on the garage forecourt, as panic petrol purchasing was in full swing.
After a non-eventful drop-off at nursery, I just had the five lessons to get through. To be honest, it was a mixed bag of over-excited children, those who simply couldn't cope and those who were too shattered to care. The bell couldn't come soon enough, and the lift-share ladies, Dexter and I headed to a country pub on the way home to join a number of other demob happy colleagues.
The boy had his tea sitting at one of the benches in the beautiful beer garden. He played with a football, squeaked at some ducks, experimented with some rabbit droppings and threw up over lovely lift-share friend, due to some slightly over exuberant swinging around.
I too feel sick with tiredness. I am desperately in need of two weeks of rest and recovery. I celebrated the end of term with a glass of wine and fell asleep on the sofa at half past nine. Perfect.