The Godparents

I am, inherently, quite a lazy person.  Thus, explaining to more than one person how Chris and Gordon were connected to me so intimately quickly became a drag.  As a solution to this tedium, I decided instead to simply tell everyone that they were my Godparents, and I think they rather liked it.

The Godparents arrived on the same day as Chandni and Jade, who I saw briefly before they realised that Risk or Death was actually far more agreeable than me: her flat's bigger, she has wine, her internet is faster and she only asked for Double Deckers, whilst I asked for Marks and Spencer's entire Spring Collection.  When C&J disappeared to go and lie on a beach, C&G disappeared to go and lie by the pool.  By the end of the week, they knew more through sun-lounger gossip about the staff base of the Big International School than I probably know about my own mother.  If you need any conspicuous, friendly espionage done, The Godparents are the people to call.

Highlights of the Godparents' visit (other than the free flow of gin, the meals out, the ironing that was magically completed and the joyous discovery of half price bread after 5pm at the Mekong Merchant) was a visit from Mr. Tho.

Imagine my distress on Monday morning when I got half way down the drive on Little Moto and realised that the wobbling handlebars and instability were due to a flat front tyre, and that I would - at 6:55am - have to conceal the Morning Grump and be a reasonable and civilised human being to other teachers on the school bus.  What purgatory.

As honourary father figure that week, I asked Gordon to come and look at it when I got home, and stood around frowning like a girl, saying 'really?!' when he diagnosed a puncture.  Luckily, a very nice driver man in a posh car parked next to us asked us if we had a number for a 'man'.  I didn't, alas.  I have a number for a butcher, and a number for a receptionist, and a number for take out. and a number for a xe om driver and a manicure, but not a 'man'.  The friendly driver man walked me round to the corrugated iron fence of the drive of my apartments and pointed at a number tipexed on the fence with the word 'Tho' underneath it.  'Let's try this,' he suggested.  As he rang the number, I asked him what the word 'Tho' meant.  'It's his name,' he replied.  Amuse.

Mr. Tho!

Anyway, Mr. Tho could teach a number of advertising agencies a thing or two.  Tipexing your number on the fence directly opposite the entrance to the carpark of an apartment block full of rich moped drivers is a very sensible idea.  He turned up in less than five minutes, and Gordon's Your Godfather, the puncture was fixed! Most impressive.

Happy Little Moto!

We also snuck up onto the roof - a plan Risk or Death and I have been harbouring for some time, now - and  got some amazing photos of views.  The Godparents wouldn't let me or Risk or Death climb the ladder that would have lead us up to the place where the aeroplane light flashes to stop low flying jets crashing into the penthouse, though.  Party poopers.

In the lift at the start of our gin induced adventure: please note the double fisting from Godmother, here.

Practically a private balcony.

The Godparents' visit coincided with a voluntary Inspection at the Big International School.  I know, 'voluntary'/'inspection'... I am teaching my year 10s about oxymorons, juxtaposition and duality at the moment and am using this as an example of all three.

Anyway, 'twas a busy affair, but when Mr. Inspector walked into my room, and asked 'May I come in?' it was all I could do to not respond with either, 'No, get stuffed', or 'Yes!  Do!  We've been waiting for you all morning!  Here!  Have a plan!  It took me an hour an a half!  The lesson's only an hour and twenty minutes long!  Can you see the colour coding?  Green for AFL, red for the IB learner profile, purple for differentiation?  And the powerpoint slides are on this green paper, and the resources that they're using, this yellow piece of paper, and here's a seat I've asked Little Johnny to fart in since break time to warm for you!  Please!  Tell me I'm 'Outstanding'!'  Obviously, I communicated this telepathically and with enthusiastic body language, and was a key player in earning the Big International School it's grading of 'Exceeding Outstanding'.  It was me.  All me.

Being outstanding and spoilt by adopted Godparents is really time consuming, which is why the blog wasn't updated.  Please forgive me.  Soon to come: 'C&J's return', 'Post Inspection Tiger Girls Party', 'Paddy's Day Messiness' (featuring Shining Shamrock), 'Lovers Separated by Library' (featuring Frenchie and some books), and 'Bali: the PADI Qualification Vacation'.  Exciting!