The beginning of the end?

Hello and welcome to the Scott Musical Academy. So far she only knows one note (or perhaps two, depending on how hard she blows) - and boy is it squeeky. She is of course absolutely delighted to be playing the "flute like Dora's", who, for those that don't know, is her mother, cousin, sister, friend and daughter, or sometimes a combination of the five.

A virtuoso performance

To add insult to injury, I didn't wipe her fingers after letting her eat a chocolate biscuit, so the poor thing smells like butter and is doubtless filled with wet crumbs.

Needless to say, the dog is not best pleased with Jocelyn's choice of musical repertoire and has repaired to her bed in a grump.

As fas as other news goes, I have had an informative few days at the local Boys High School sitting at the back of science lessons, absorbing the atmosphere (and various underarm aromas) of the classroom in a bid to decide whether I can wait a year to learn to teach Biology of whether I should just cut my losses and take up Physics or Chemistry instead. I have come to the somewhat strange conclusion that it's Chemistry for me, and I hope to start a course of some variety in October of this year. For those of you who remember Mr Hart, of Stonar School fame, this is one in the eye to the most uninspiring, grey, over-the-hill teacher ever. Of course I was very fond of him despite the hideous comb over and resemblance to Hermann Munster, but I plan to do a whole lot better with my students than he ever did, and I promise faithfully never to give lectures on "Common Courtesy". Most of all, I promise never to touch a Nuffield Science textbook unless it is to throw it into the fire.