Friday 16 March from the pen

I don't really fancy my chances of running during the next week, to be honest. There's a fair bit of "life" stuff to deal with, I sound like Barry White without even trying, and I would be happy just do weights and stretch.

I've spent so much time chasing up people on the phone, I should be in telesales.

At some of my schools this is the last week for the term. As some of the students are kiddies, I always get them a chocolate bar or a tiny something of a pack of sweets at the last lesson. The week before, Kirsty and Syreeta had already begun asking for their chocolate. "Chocolate! Chocolate!" Now, this is at the school with which I have a bit of history - I applied for a teaching position there last year, the Head never got back to me about my application, then weeks after she tells me I am "not qualified" because my teaching qualification is not recognised in this country, then she goes to hire a HR person who didn't even train as a teacher; then one day last term the Head unexpectedly asks me to do two days of music teaching there, I ask for a job description through her PA, it never comes and next thing I know someone else is hired and I'm left to feel like the "in case" option; then the "untrained" teacher gets stripped of her music responsibility so after all this whenever I need to get my proof of attendance at the school signed each month, yes, I have to go and chase after the Head, the person I consider awful, to do it! But I digress...

So, at the start of the lesson Kirsty and Syreeta start doing their "chocolate! chocolate!" whine and I keep insisting they get through the work first. Delaying gratification is the way to live, right? Every five or ten minutes there is a "Can we see what it is?" request which is declined. After I get through the long forty minutes, as I'm preparing to whip out the two mega-sized Mars bars Syreeta says, "I'm allergic to dark chocolate." It stumps me for a moment, but Mars is alright. I present it to them. "Have you got another kind?" they ask. "I don't like Mars," Kirsty declares, before going "What does Mars taste like? I've never tried it." I twice suggest she sample some of Syreeta's to see if she likes it - so if she doesn't, she can at least give hers to a friend - but she doesn't get it and rips into her wrapper. She takes a lick of the chocolate, does the "Ewww" face, chicken-flaps her arms, then thunks the whole thing in the bin. Untouched but for a lick.

I'm too tired to even try to say goodbye properly.