Without giving away too many juicy details, I can tell you that I did not win the triathlon today, but I didn't come last either. I was dead in the middle of the pack in terms of the 60 females, out of 300 entrants, and was pleased with my time and with the fact that it turned out to be a 4 mile run, not 5. I came 255th overall. I was pleased with my 'sub 10 min' swim time, and I beat R on the run by 8 seconds. He beat me overall by 8 mins. Doing this one has fired him up for triathlons big time, so he may just now have another string to his sporting bow in terms of international mega stardom. The winner of the Salisbury triathlon was called Mr Goodhusband. What a fabulous surname. I hope he lives up to it.

R is out playing tennis tonight for the county or similar. Last night he was out sailing for Team GB ( again, or similar). He should have gone to a private ( public) school and become the internationally acclaimed sports star that he was destined to be from a young age. Apparently the Surrey Cricket developement squad did not look at boys from state schools. Too bad his dad was spending all the cash on records and not on school fees for Harrow or somewhere eh? Still, he would never have met me! R that is, not his dad, although I guess that follows.

I, meanwhile, was never destined to be a sports star from a young age and skipping at Brownie camp and learning to play two ball was as good as it gets. I found out that this Sunday's triathlon involves a 5 mile run. I thought it was 5k, and those of you with a working knowledge of measures will know which is longer. So I did 5 miles on Tuesday, around Hamble Common and Netley. On Monday I did the best ride I have done so far, a 30 mile round trip from the gym out to Beacon Hill which is on the south downs ridge and back, with the best stop ever for a view, and then the best descent ever down a lane to Exton, with clear views and no hedges so no nasty cars sneaking around. I only saw 4 cars on the entire first 10 miles, once I had got out of Hedge End and to where I feel my rides start, Durley. Seriously, people go on holiday to far less beautiful spots than this section of Hampshire and I commend it to you.

Tonight has been a busy one, with H back from Brownies, plus a friend borrowing an alien costume, the window cleaner, the Sainsburys delivery man and Aleesha from up the road wanting to 'borrow' some wrapping paper. I was tempted to ask for it back but she wouldn't have got the humour. Luckily they did not all turn up at once or it could have been a bit of a muddle with people leaving and going with all the wrong things. I had cunningly engineered the Sainsburys man to come at a time R was going to be in and I was going to be out, because I would have liked to have come home to all the food put away by someone ( anyone!) else. I had forgotten that it was the warm ups for Wimbledon tonight and R would be out playing tennis with Federer. Serves me right, I got to put the food away.

I finally finished the last book in the Robin Hood trilogy written by Stephen Lawhead. I liked the Merlin ones and like these too, I am reading them cos R likes them, and actually I do too although I would never choose them. I won't ruin the ending, but its good. I am going to see the new Robin Hood film at the new cinema in Eastleigh, which I am over excited about.

I met a man in the sauna who was a body builder and told me I should carb load before Sunday. I don't really know what that means but just had a peanut butter sandwich and am hoping somehow it helps me go faster. Although why would it still be lingering 3 days later? I should think a 3 day old sandwich of any variety would slow one down.

H's first sailing training session today. I was on bar duty for R, and usually it is really boring doing bar as no one buys anything. Not on a junior sailing day. We had to make hot drinks for all the instructors and children, and then lots of parents were keen on our coffees, and then people wer buying chocolate and fizzy drinks at the end of the day. Even 3 pints of beer were sold. So I was tearing around making hot drinks and getting H in and out of her wetsuit, plus a quick trip to buy some lunch in Netley. When I was getting H out of her wetsuit, I pulled her legs so hard she fell off the bench and bumped her bum on the floor, in a 'You've been framed' kind of moment which had us all giggling in the end. The weather was a flat calm, so the sailing experience was limited, but she got to go out on her own in the Topper and seemed confident and happy. Luckily for me, Granny M was there so she took A on the mini train and to the park and generally kept her busy and happy. R, meanwhile, was sailing in Swanage, in a national championships of a style of sailing he had never done before today. It seems that in sailing, if you have the right type of boat, you can enter the nationals of that class. I was thrilled to meet several real sports people in the last two days. One of the mums from my class is also a member of the sailing club, and was in the Olympics in 1996 for sailing. An Olympic sailor! Last night I was at the gym and met a couple who do gym cross training nationally, and she is in the top 3 women in the UK. Good eh? My own training has been so inspired that I got up at 6.45am to go for a bike ride. And was at the gym til 10pm last night.

Work has been a bit fraught this week, I have done some really long days and worked in the evenings, we are mid SATs, which is a lot of work with marking and anlaysing data - plus have planning to do for the trip and next half term, plus guess what - reports are due in June 11th. ha ha. Apparently the system for doing them does not cope with doing them at home and then bringing them in and putting them back on the network, so I intend spending my days off in school typing away. Yipee. That's when I am not tearing around the countryside trying to be a better, faster and more efficient cyclist. Still, I guess you all have your own work issues so I won't go on about mine.

I didn't want to get up on Friday morning after the political situation on Thursday and the dread of Johnnie boy Denham not being back in. He made it, just, by less than 200 votes. Which is scary, that nearly as many people wanted to be represented in Westminster by a gentleman who goes by the name of Royston. Royston? That sounds like a range of sanitary ware, not a person. Relieved ( spot the pun) to find that we do not have a ***** called Royston representing the people of Southampton East. What is really weird is that a student teacher at my school went to the trouble of looking up the education manifestos for all parties, and decided against the Tory one - and then DIDN'T VOTE! I kid you not. I didn't realise quite how much I detested the Tory boys with their arrogant ways until this election. I mean, I didn't like them much at uni, but for the last 13 years they have been so whispering and ephemeral, but the idea of being governed by Royston and his mates is beyond what I can cope with. I might have to leave the country. The difference the new deal has made to Thornhill people and the opportunities for children in Thornhill now compared to 10 years ago is immense and I can't see deprived council estates being top of the Tory list of places and people to transform and empower.

So apart from my entirely impartial reporting on the General election, what else to tell you about eh? H had Brownie camp last weekend, which was a rite of passage and reminded me of my own experience of a week in a village hall in Thursley on the occassion of the Queen Mother's 80th birthday. I learned to skip and had a tea towel with elephant jokes on it. not much has changed - H went on 3 treasure hunts and to a campfire and had to take a tea towel and a cake or a packet of biscuits. A was there on Rainbow fun time as well, so R and I got a rare bike ride together, and then as I had cunningly organised for A to have some sleep overs with friends, a rare tennis game without the girls and a night out at the cinema. We saw a film called Dear John, a slow moving, pretty romance with tinges of sadness and a twist at the end. It kept me thinking the whole of the next day, so one to watch on DVD I think. I still have not seen Avatar, thanks for asking. A boy in my class aged 7 asked me if I had seen it, and then whispered that it had lots of swearing in it. What rating is it? I find myself really disturbed by children of 6 telling me they play Battle of Glory or whatever that war game is called. I know I am really anti violent games and films, but I struggle to see who could think it was ok to let 6 and 7 year olds do these things.

Meanwhile, I am letting my 6 and 8 year olds watch Britain's got Talent, which some would aruge in just as bad. Saturday night TV is great for families. We can watch from 5 til 9pm - Total Wipeout, you've been framed, the full 19 yards and then BGT. Having previously thought that TV meant CBeebies, watching the adverts with the girls is interesting, they play a game called 'Guess the product'. Nice idea I thought.

Forgot to say we had nice chips on Saturday from the Codfather, one of my favourite chip shop comedy names. There is a hairdressers in Warsash called Herr Kutz - like what they have done there. It's on a par with Pam Purred Pets.

Pet cat went to vet yesterday to have a booster injection which was mistakenly not given when she went in October. Forked out for some worm tablets for her. Also went to the dentist, we have a new comedy dentist from another eastern European country, he is very jolly and recommended Sensodyne, so clearly got himself onto a good thing there. He reminded me of Father Christmas. Let's hope he is still around next time we go, generally we get a ne one every time as they are all on six month contracts. It costs £16.50 to have him prod around in my mouth. Get half of that back from HSA I am relieved to say. Also went to the hospital to see consultant for my annual check in and my blood results are fine and its 'Watch and Wait' for another year. I have to go back every year until I die. Or she ( the doctor) dies first? Not that I am planning to assasinate her, you understand. She said next year she might have the technological advance to do the consultation by phone. Steady on, NHS! Just to complete my mystery shopping of the NHS on your behalf prior to the general election, ( did I say that all children in Southampton in Year 4 get free instrument tuition - I didn't get that as a Thatcher's child, I can tell you!) A decided to be sick and come out in a rash on her cheeks, plus headache and stiff legs, enough of the indicators to make even the least worried parent reach for a thermometer and check the meningitis website. in my case, I had to borrow Hattie's thermometer as I don't really have much time for all that fiddling about a la Nicky Davy, and temp was ok, but I called the Doctors out of hours nurse, who suggested I take her to to walk in clinic at Bitterne and wait for 90 mins to be told that she was fine. She did a dramatic puke whilst in the waiting room - well I got her to the loo just in time, but it didn't give us any extra points in the queue. Still, a tick for the NHS out of hours service, I feel that if she had got meningitis and was going downhill fast they would have fast tracked us.

I am beginning to feel a bit aged, that all I can tell you about is the health of family members. Nothing sporting to tell you about as my day yesterday was spent with A being a bit forlorn but not ill, and me doing a ton of washing - yep, literally! and getting it all dry whilst the sun shone. Washing is something I am good at, I also did the ironing, including 5 shirts for R, who announced that he likes ironing shirts and is happy to do them himself from now on.

So, the NHS and laundry. Went to work for a break from life as a drudge.

Nicky Davy is a legendary figure, the still living mother of two girls who lived next door but one. She poked thermometers in their mouths at every opportunity and seemed to always be saying ' they can't play, they've got temperatures.' which was bewildering to us who didn't know you could have a temperature. they also had to go to bed earlier than the rest of us in the street, so we played near their window just to annoy them. I loved both girls, Jo and Tricia, and in fact Tricia was in my class all through secondary school and then we were both at uni at the same time. She was the most healthy and robust sports person you could meet, rowing and canoeing for the country (almost). her sister, meanwhile, the last time I heard (and I am not on facebook so forgive me if you know better) was wasting away eating just cotton wool or similar. So, my reluctance to bother my children with thermometers stems from a mocking relationship with them from an early age, plus never knowing actually what is a good temperature to be, so why bother knowing what you are, if you don't know whether that is good or bad? if you told me you had a temperature of 38.8 I would be as impressed as if you told me you had one of 34.4. I have no idea which of those is better or if it matters.

As Heifer would be taken as an insult if you were to call a young lady one, that might be an interesting texting experiment for Mr Niddler. I have done loads of cycling and feel that I may tell you a little about it as it will complement the words I have written on the Bike Radar Cycling Plus team blog, which you are welcome to access.

Today I did a group ride with the Esporta tri club, and tackled some great hills, both up and down - I seem to find coming down a challenge as I am tempted to brake too often and not trust the bike or myself to not have a terrible crash at speed. Having had a crash with myself while at precisely 0 mph on Friday I do well not to trust in my ability too much. I uncleated one foot and then tried to put the still cleated one down, thus falling slowly on my left and all this right outside the main entrance of the Holiday Inn in Fareham. I was there to attend a moderation meeting about maths, an experience so harrowing and depressing I was ready to give in my notice and never go near a classroom ever again as I left. Which strikes me as not the kind of reaction that a team of Hampshire inspectors would wish to engender in their workforce. Managed to overcome my feelings with a ya boo attitude, encouraged by R who says he never listens to what they say about grades anyway. Still, came home, via the Pink ferry from Warsash, nursing a bruised behind, sore wrists and dented confidence in my ability to teach as well as twisted handlebars. Luckily that evening I was reading Mark 7 with Sialou, which is always fun and inspiring, and we both learned new things about Jesus and what he did with people. When I got home, R had gone out to an Alarm concert at a pub in Southampton. I knew he was going from about 15 minutes before I had gone out, and he had got Hattie to nip in to babysit for a few minutes in our overlap - rest assured! He had a great time, as he did at the club tennis night on Thursday, where he found himself in the better quarter of the people there. He should write his own blog if you want to know about his sporting successes. I will stick to my own, as the list is getting longer and longer for him. He ran 10 miles the other day to ensure that I wouldn't beat him in the tri we are both entering soon. No chance of me beating him, really he shouldn't worry. I have more chance of beating him in a sailing race.

With everyone I meet, I insist they pick up my bike and see how light it is. Particulary impressed by the parcel delivery man, who said - 'About 8kg?' not bad estimate my friend, 8.6 - he clearly spends too much time picking up parcels. He can do 120 drop offs in one day at work. I got a text to tell me the hour window he would be there, and although he was 2 minutes early, his scanner would not release the parcel till the precise time of 2.30pm. What amazing technology exists these days. When I was at Junior school we did a project on bar codes, for some trade journal, we had to learn about what the numbers meant. They were a new and jazzy thing then - and now we all have them on our foreheads!

I cycled the long way round to the church weekend away at YMCA in Botley, where once again we enjoyed the pattern of weather we have come to expect - sunshine all day Sat, a downpour on Sun am and then more sun. We did Its a Knock out water games and the girls excelled at climbing trees all weekend, and the other favourite past time of theirs - buying drinks from vending machines. The girls and I and Imogen stayed the night and Granny Mary came down for the afternoon on Saturday. A and H both took part in the children's concert - H on clarinet, A singing from memory one of her own compositions. Bless em! The adult 'talent' was all male, but as you may well say, if I wasn't up there then I can't complain, be the change etc etc. I was delighted to say the Libby's talent as a songwriter was represented as R sang a song of her penmanship - or penwomanship I should say. Although the weekend was very pleasant, it has confirmed the nudging I need to keep seeking further and deeper and finding my sense of community and spiritual home someplace else for this time. Don't know - its a tough one, no easy answers and no way of answering them without some change.

Had a beautiful solo ride on Tuesday in the sunshine as part of a tri for some training, I did all 3 disciplines back to back, but in wrong order, while simultaneously getting a new tyre put on the car. I was not doing the car work myself. I rode out and back to Lane End, parallel with Winchester. It is such pretty and quiet riding country, I want all of you to come with me on my adventures, I love jsut trying out a lane and seeing where it goes and coming home when I don't recognise any of the place names anymore. I hardly see any cars or other people on the quiet lanes and its the kind of place people would go on holiday to.

A final cycling story. R and Timmy, Paul and Ang's 10 year old, cycled the 4 miles back from Botley as their overstuffed car was brimful with children and bikes and duvets. I passed them as we came out of the drive of the centre, and a little further on, drove carefully over some odd fabric items littering the road, thought little of it and came on home via a stop at a brilliantly renovated park in Hedge End next to the paddling pool. At home we found R and Timmy, who had cycled past said items and commented ' That's my dressing gown!'. So between the two of them they had cycled on with 2 dressing gowns and two blankets - Tim wearing the dressing gowns, and Rob swathed in blankets. Paul had been alerted and drove back to check for other sundry items that may have flown out of his roof box on travels. He said Rob looked like an old woman, and Tim was shattered with the effort of a mainly uphill ride in two thick cumbersome layers more than was necessary. I keep giggling now thinking of the pair of them. The moral of the story, of course, is to take due diligence to lock your roof box, or just keep quiet and cycle on past if you see your dressing gown in the middle of the road.

Before I wanted to give up teaching for good after Friday afternoon, I had a lovely time with my class learning about Percy the Park keeper and wild animals, with painting and making homes for animals in the woods as part of our literacy learning. Its all about immersing them in the text, so they have real experiences to write from. And on Monday I went in on a day off to take part in and achieve my Open Country qualification, which involves doing lots of risk assessments and taking compass readings and a nice mooch around the country park following a map. I had a lovely day, in the sun, I can see a weather theme developing here as no one apart from Eeyore and Hattie have nice days in the rain. She likes walking in the rain. She clearly didn't do guiding with Diana Sandford, affectionately known as Sandbag, who made us eat cheap spam and sent us on marches in the rain to obscure museums that no one really wanted to go to anyway. Once we walked miles to the vicar's house to watch the royal wedding on his tv. Imagine having to be so saintly as to have an influx of guides who had not washed for days sitting on your sofa to watch Fergie in a meringue. My dad still remembers the expression on the coach driver's face when he saw the assortment of old bits of metal that accompanied us on any camp, essential to the fire building process, which took most of our days. We were so busy making fires and cooking unhealthy breakfasts and tying bedding rolls we didn't have any energy left to sing campfire songs, or walk miles across countryside. One time she picked peas out of the grease trap to eat! We burnt everything, left no rubbish, we buried the ash left over. We dug our own lat pit. It was like flipping prisoner of war camp. We did everything for ourselves, literally there was a few hours in the afternoon for lying down before starting all the fire building work again for the evening meal. I thought spag bol was supposed to have black bits in it and taste of ash for years.