L.O. To identify and analyse the components of sonnets

Year 7! Stop this racket! Settle down!
That you’ve arrived late from PE is bad
enough without …you acting like a clown,
Grimaldi. Quiet while I’m speaking, lad.
The objective this lesson is up – DAN!
You need to get your backside on your chair
and planner on your desk, now, please, young man.
The objective, you may have seen, is there…
on the board, Lewis; it’s on the board,
if you were paying attention you’d have seen
it, instead of wasting time we can’t afford
throwing a basketball around with Jean.
Yes, you can pick it up at four pm
from welfare, where I’m sure there’ll be a chat
about why it has ended up with them.
I’m only glad it’s not a cricket bat.
Chewing gum in the bin, Jean, thank – good shot!
Now, can I start this lesson off, or what?


Had a productive night despite “not feeling it” in any sort of sense. By the end of that process, managed to have actually achieved something, even though I didn’t really feel like I had, but I had.

O mind, what slipp’ry fuckery is this
with which thou dost my daily chores attend?
Surely thou couldst thy chunterings abate,
if only for a bless’d second’s respite;
turn from thy dull and prating rattle
to modes melodious, soothing and becalmed,
not these inconstant-yet-constant alarms,
that squeak, and chide, and taunt, and offer nought
but discord and doubt, when thou couldst assure
with but one word of self-love, cheer or praise?

– Anon., At the Sign of The Doubtful Salmon, c.1609



Trudging through it at the moment. It’s a familiar field, with an aspect that’s appealing from a distance revealed closer up to be all morass.

Managed to lighten a persistent glum mood with thirty minutes in the sunshine planting out shallots (the pre-chorus of Livin’ on a prayer playing over and over as I pressed each one into the soil). There’s clearly some unfavourable aspect about the rest of the solar system, though. Must be something in the air. My mind misgives. Unlike the shallots, an orbs-not-quite-in-alignment sort of scenario.

Heh… orbs. While acknowledging and paying respect to the benefit of not feeling like I have to do anything, moments where I am literally talking balls suggest some sort of nudge is required. Like, a proper physical getting out of one’s self…

Not like that though.

Tomorrow morning will be either a run, or retrieving the bike from underneath the stuff that’s been piled up against it in the garage all winter. Actually, given the prevalence of flatness, I’m likely to discover a pair of deflated tyres, so I might as well put the trainers by the door now.

23rd April. One cannot let the occasion of Shakespeare’s death, and possible birth, pass without a tip of the hat.

An “ask any question” question, written on a post-it note in an English class I taught one time:

“What would win in a fight between Shakespeare or of Godzilla?”

"...then have at you with my wit!"

“…then have at you with my wit!”

I keep the original post-it about me. Shonky grammar from student – and now shonky photoshopping – be damned. It’s this kind of question that sustains my glee in teaching English.

Perhaps you might like to continue the celebrations by casting an eye over a couple of The Mortal Bath’s prior notes on the Sweet Swan of Avon: Shakespeare’s presence on cheat sheet websites and the previously unspoken love betwixt Shakespeare and George Orwell.

Happy Bard Day everyone!