Shove over on the stress couch, MI.
The blasted presentation of our assignment was merely the beginning. Now I have to construct a detailed scheme of work, with curriculum reference points and everything, and a 1500-word draft of all the learning theories and literacy points contained therein. In 10 days time. Which of course would be managable, but I have to plan a lesson from scratch for tomororw, and another one for Tuesday, in partnership with someone who is ill and unavailable. And there's masses of reading to do for Monday. A day full of lectures that I'd forgotten.
By half term I also have to have somehow found two new classes to observe, for my reflective practice, at a time when I'm not doing anything else. But there is no time that I'm not doing anything else. And I've got to get the car MOT'd and serviced, and can't actually see any time that I can do it. Ditto a hair cut, which hasn't been done since September.
The cat has also sicked up in the kitchen. Fortunately, I'm not doing dry January, or I might just have to take up heroin.
Much cheered, however, by gynae fun. My favourite 'joke' is when they start investigating your front door, say 'tits first, I'm not a slag'. Maybe I'll wheel it out when/if I have my smear. Which is overdue by a number of years.