Thirty-nine and holding...

I've always enjoyed having my birthday in April; the sun generally shines, there was the outside chance that it would coincide with the Easter weekend, and my mum always used to let me pick the appropriate number of daffodils from the garden. Nowadays, it would take some size of vase to hold thirty-nine daffodils, but assuming all goes to plan I will be on holiday on my birthday forever more...hurrah!

It's been a strange week and a half, after the frantic activity before the holidays. Never being much of a one for relaxing at the best of times, I've found it a bit odd to have nothing pressing to do. I feel I should be planning some lessons for my next placement, but as I don't know which classes I'll be teaching or what they'll be doing when I go back, it's kind of difficult. I've been formulating a plan of sorts for this blasted APD research project, and with that in mind am going to settle down later on with the lovely Kenneth Branagh, in the form of a DVD of his Henry V.

Talking of Shakespeare (and I don't need much prompting to do so), I watched Doctor Who on Saturday, for probably the first time since the Tom Baker days (I queued for hours in East Kilbride to get his autograph when I was about ten, and he was charming), and I loved it. Lets hope it becomes responsible for an upsurge of interest in ol' Shakey amongst kids!

Along with the birthday cards this morning, I got an entry form for this year's Great Scottish Run half marathon. My training so far this year has consisted of three pathetic half-hour runs, none of which was easy. The memories of how my training absolutely dominated my summer last year is kind of putting me off doing it again, but it'll only take a few runs to get back into the swing of it...I have no excuse not to, being on holiday, but I always seem to find an excuse nonetheless (fat bloater).