Thanks for thinking of me today, crepes. I do love you all. The lesson was a minor disaster. As my mentor spotted, I hadn't really got straight in my head exactly what the effing present perfect actually is, so found it hard to teach it, despite my carefully crafted exercises.
Over lunch afterwards, while trying not to cry, I said that I thought I'd been thrown a bit too much in the deep end, and that she wasn't always totally clear about what she wanted me to do. It turns out she thought I'd had much more teaching experience than I have, and so from now on is going to be much more explicit. The next few weeks will be much better: the next two weeks I'm just teaching for an hour, and the week after that we're all going on a class trip to the Museum of Childhood. I feel much better. Though utterly exhausted. Tonight is my designated night off, and will include mucho vino.
Tomorrow I have to go my sis's house, with brother in attendance, to try and sort him out. Remember him? Aspergers (but won't accept it), made bankrupt in a Law Society action, working for an unscrupulous bastard paying him £450 a month, living on bread and water... I'm going to try the 'ooh, how marvellous to be retraining in one's middle years' approach, to maybe get him to consider a librarian or archivist course, or something...
As for shopping with DHs, no bloody thank you. I like to shop alone, without any friends or anything. I'm either holding them up, or they hold me up, or they buy something I like but looks terrible on me, or similar. Fraught with difficulties.