So, I've started teaching a new ju-jitsu class. It's at Launceston, which is a bit of a trek, and it's for juniors at Launceston Grammar. What can I say? Natalie's angling to get Jake into the school next year. She mentioned what I do. Next thing I know, they're emailing me.
Well, okay. I don't really mind. I get paid, and I like doing this stuff anyhow, and I like working with kids. But that means I'm driving into Launceston four nights out of five most Monday to Friday weeks, and on the fifth night (Wednesday) I teach two and a half hours of ju-jitsu out here.
Of course, it does make the whole cooking thing a challenge. It's not so bad Monday nights, because I'm usually back by six or so. Tuesday nights I prep something before I leave. Wednesday nights is often up to Natalie, though tonight I'm setting up a Malay-style soup. Thursdays I just have to deal with it when I get back, and Fridays (I drive into town to pick up the boys from orchestra; Natalie stays later for Big Person's Orchestra) likewise I have to do a bit of prep beforehand.
Meanwhile, the Mau-Mau has joined the ju-jitsu classes. She just stood up one day and insisted she wanted to go. I was a little wary; she's not so good on 'obedience' and 'paying attention', and I really don't need her in the class if she's going to be difficult.
Turns out the 'difficulties' are all on the other kids. The Mau-Mau apparently loves this shit. She picked up the basic break falls in minutes, and by the end of her first session, she was throwing and wrestling and generally walking over the top of kids with a head or more of size and a year or so of experience on her. She learns as fast as anyone I've yet seen, including her older brother, and she's terrifyingly enthusiastic about it. I've just now organised her very first gi (uniform) and she's bursting with eagerness to turn up in class wearing her very own white belt and all.
Meanwhile, it appears I've just about convinced my prof to accept my research proposal for the MA. The first three proposals I put past him were, apparently, a leetle too ambitious. PhD size or better, I'm told. But the latest appears to be properly focused and all that good stuff, so all he wants is a touch of rewriting, and then we can submit it.
Oh, goody goody.
The local high school is doing a performance of "The Three Musketeers" this year. The script is... actually, it's pretty embarrassing, but mostly that's not my problem. Well, with the exception of one scene I've agreed to rewrite for the drama teacher, 'cos she's a friend and a good soul and means the very best for the students. Oh, and I've also agreed to create the fight sequences for them. Which should be especially entertaining. I've done very little formal stage-fight stuff before, but I'm familiar with the principles, and there's plenty of material available to learn from. Plus I can call a few friends for advice if I think I need it. I don't think I'll need it, though.
The spring has finally settled down again. I pumped lots of water to the tank earlier in this year because the little waterhole had gradually filled with leaves and twigs and sticks after something like twenty-odd years of serving the household. So after the tank was nice and full, we engaged a local chap with a digger to come and scoop it all out -- and scoop he did, oh yes. The spring-pond is now deeper than it's ever been, and cleared all around the banks. It took about three weeks for the fine clay to settle, but it's looking really good now. Hopefully there will be a bit of regrowth before the heavier rains of winter, so the clay banks don't run into the pool...
Meanwhile, the new chookshed is making my life goddam miserable. It's one of those stupid little tin aviaries, and unfortunately, the instructions are... moderately unclear in places. Doesn't help that Natalie parked the car on the edge of one of the larger pieces the other day. I can fix that, I reckon. Probably.
Mmf. Car's in service today. Nearly forgot that. They gave me a loaner, which is good, because I've got a lot of crap to do, and I've got to get back down the hill to teach ju-jitsu this afternoon. Hope the service goes well. I dodged about six different wallabies last night on the way home, but one of the fuckers managed to charge headfirst into the right-front corner of the car. Stupid goddam macropod.
Oh. Washing machine is done again. Better go and put a new load on. Yep. Clouding over? Yep. Hmm. This lot better go in the dryer, I guess. The line's mostly full now anyhow.
And last: Anastascia Palazsczukuzk? Oh, holy shitballs, Queensland. If that's the best your Labor party can do, you can expect to be living under Campbell Newman's anus for at least twenty years, I'd guess. And if you want any further details on that opinion, you should ask John Birmingham, or Bob Heather -- or anybody else who had to deal with Anastascia Unspellable in her days as a student politician at Uni of Qld.
Oh, how the chickens return to the roost, eh? You meet a person when you're in your twenties. You make a rational, morally defensible decision not to practice retrospective abortion. Twenty years later, they're gearing up to lead the entire state... so, did you make a mistake? And if so, do you rectify it? Or do you just piss off to Tasmania, and let the Queensland voters deal with it?
I dunno. Not my problem, is it?
The Cruel Prince collector’s edition
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