Bippy:

I've been having a bad week.

I've had a hard time with the basting in my Sewing class.

I keep trying and my instructor, the tattered weasel, keeps ripping my work apart and telling me to follow the directions.

The directions were written by an illiterate moron, poss'bly she.

Pro'ly came out of one of those tattering Comprehensive's, where they teach you a little bit of everything, but not nearly enough about learning.

I think that learning is so much more than about doing what you are told.

I think it is about learning to outreach the limited 'bil'ties of the intructors.

If they are so tatteringly smart, then why are they teaching in the same school they graduated from?

Pro'ly can't afford to leave the rent-controlled council housing their grandmum was awarded for services rendering during the Crimean War...

Off-topic, way off-topic, I am today.

The housekeeper refuses to stock the larder with anything but instant crap.

I just know if she'd take her little Continuing Adult Education mind and little Brittany Celtic Revival handmade shopping basket down to the local Co-op, she could find some interesting stuff to make that would take just a few ticks longer than this trash she keeps carting home in the boxes and cans and little foiled packets with pretty ugly pictures on them, providing a "serving suggestion".

I've got a tattered suggestion or two.

And me Mum has spent years and thousands of quid working on a kitchen patch of 'erbs and spices and lettuces and beets and gourds and 'matoes in the back garden.

Why can't we eat any of that rot?

Because she is seeing which runs the truest to the Garden Club Standard so she can enter it in the biannual Contest and win an unedible ribbon and a tasteless certificate, that's why!

Bleah.

That's what's wrong with this country.

Walk past thousands of edible plants and berries and barks to plotz their tattered bums into a plastic seat to eat plastic food out of a plastic container...

Bad people. Bad, bad, bad people.

Anyway, I'm hungry.

I think there is some treacle left over from the dog's breakfast. That, and a packet of vinegar and pepper flavoured crisps ought to do me for a bit.

Bye.