Soph's School of the Mad: Week Six

Fuck me, but this government doesn't know which way its arse hangs. "GO BACK TO WORK. UNLESS YOU CAN'T. IN WHICH CASE DON'T. ALSO MAYBE SEND THE KIDS BACK TO SCHOOL? NO? OK, BACKTRACK." Wankers.

Monday was a bleak day. The kids were in foul moods, after a weekend of having fun, chiefly running around the close shrieking with joy at being allowed out of the house. Yes, I let them out. Nobody tell the rozzers. I also had fun with my bottle of Captain Morgan, like a pirate of old. Too much fun. As my hangover seamlessly segued into a migraine of epic proportions, I could not be doing with Jim screaming his fucking lungs out because he couldn't find his headphones. His headphones that were on the chair in his bedroom. In front of him. Trying to explain the point of maths problems to Jack, while Jim howled like a wolf, and Alex ran amok is so RESTFUL, HUN. BLESSED, HUN, HASHTAG FUCKING BLESSED.

I didn't get hold of any co-codamol until 2pm, and then it only lasted three hours, during which I banged out some work before the nauseating headache smacked me back in the fifth nerve.

Tuesday was mildly better, although my brain remained a giant throbbing ball of meaty hate. Under the promise of being allowed to play Minecraft if they got work done, Jim managed to learn about synonyms and antonyms, and created this rainbow:

This rainbow is going to cheer the staff at PCH up, apparently. I particularly enjoy the slightly dark energy of the Thank You.

And Jack, eventually, made a factfile about the Mayans...for the second time since lockdown started. I feel like the school might be running out of things for the kids to do. Not only is this the second time they've been asked to make a Mayan factfile, it was also on the to-do sheet twice. Maybe they just really NEED a lot of Mayan factfiles. Who knows?

Even Alex managed to do some work. Behold this FINE number formation. Did you ever see such a beautiful nine?

That evening, I discovered a murder. Stretch Sonic, a distant relation of Stretch Armstrong, had lost his leg and been concealed under a sofa cushion, where he had bled out. I don't know what they use to make those weird stretchy beasts, but it is sticky as fuck. Jimmy, who is my chief suspect in this murder, screamed his bloody head off about it. Using hot water and a knife, I managed to scrape most of it off, cursing all the while.

Jimmy started Wednesday off by having a massive meltdown about not being able to see his nanny. I bribed him with the promise of pudding from a dessert bar (they're DELIVERING IN THE CITY YAAAAS). Jack made a poster for the NHS, begging for a cure to stop his brother having meltdowns:

Fair. As mentioned, I haven't felt quite right all week. By Friday, I worked out that I've been attacked with postviral fatigue syndrome, which I've had before and should probably have expected in corona's bleak wake, but I didn't. Anyway, video calls finished me off on Wednesday morning. Nevertheless, the children got their work done and they were REWARDED:

He couldn't finish that, by the way. Eyes bigger than his belly.

This week, Jimmy has been looking at Charlie and the Chocolate factory, specifically the boat ride through the tunnel on the chocolate river. Jimmy was asked to storyboard this, and then make a comic strip based on him going for a ride at the chocolate factory. His comic strip took an unexpectedly dark turn, when he fell overboard, was sucked up a pipe and discovered...Willy Wonka's meth lab*:

The ending of this story is worth reproducing in full:
"So Jim informed the FBI and Willy Wonka never ended up paying his taxes and got the death sentence for drug usage. The CIA then turned his chocolate factory into a war base. THE END"

Quite.

Jack's avatar on Times Tables Rock Stars gets more lifelike by the hour:

Dr Jack, bringing you PAIN!

On Friday, Jack wrote a long and bizarre murder mystery where the main villain was Principal Buttface. I made him change that to Principal Butters before sending it to his teacher. He spending a lot of time with VORDERMAN on Maths Factor now.

Jim, after doing various things on Isambard Kingdom Brunel (ft. It's A Big Top Hat If You Want To Get Ahead, the innuendo went OVER his head), made a model of a tunnel:

Yeah, not sure ol' IKB would have been impressed with that. His last job of the week was to paint a castle in the style of Monet. Jim sincerely believes that when he is a famous artist, this original work will be worth millions. You saw it here first:

And we're done. One more week and then it's half term. We can do it! I'm off to make khachapuri, having conceived a deep and abiding longing earlier this week. Morrisons on Lincoln Road is selling live yeast, if anyone needs it.



* He has multiple geek-themed cookbooks that feature recipes from Breaking Bad. I am not cooking meth, or letting him watch wildly inappropriate TV. Honest.