A Feast For The Eyes

I visited Petersham Nurseries last week with dear friends for a celebratory lunch ( surviving GCSEs ) and couldn't think why I hadn't been in such a long time ( until of course we got the bill for lunch ).

The space is divided loosely into room sets - every one a masterpiece of composition and design.
I'll let the photos do the talking ...

I feel a new collection collection coming on - fell in love with these translucent milky green glass vases.

I can never resist taking a photo with me in shot hiding behind the lens.

 Even housework would be appealing using one of these brooms ... who am I kidding ?

We had to laugh at the price tag on this mirror and even more so when we realised we'd missed the one at the front ! Anyone got £1,500 to spare ?

Lunch was sumptuous too but blind yourself to the total and remind yourself that you're worth it .

Head and shoulders knees and toes ...

... knees and toes.

Funny how things happens eh ? I'd been dreading renewing my Driver's Licence in the almost certain knowledge that it would require finding a Post Office that processed applications, queueing up at said Post Office, finding somewhere to park near said Post Office when raining or all three.

I should have been relieved that I'd get to replace my old photo which looked like either all the blood had drained from my face , or I was off to a Halloween Horror Fancy dress party or that I'd just been told I'd be stuck in a lift with Simon Cowell for at least 3 hours.

But I shouldn't have worried because it was all relatively painless and involved no Post Offices whatsoever. I did it online and I am now officially registered with the direct.gov.uk Gateway or some such which means that I'll never be able to appear on that telly series Hunted where you have to evade capture from  a fiendish team of ex coppers and MI5 people. Presumably I can no longer be considered invisible ( technalogically at least if not socially )  as all of my most personal details ( apart from bra size ) will be available for opportunist cyber hackers logged on to some invincible computer system buried deep in a bunker somewhere under the Mojave desert. Phew.

Not only that but all of my vital organs are now available for hire  donation if I get gunned down by a bunch of disgruntled cyber hackers, ex coppers or MI5 people ... and all because as I was about to log off, a casual little question, casually tossed onto the screen at the penultimate stage of interrogation, asked me if I'd like to save a life or two by donating my vitals and as I was, at that moment, overwhelmingly relieved that the whole process had only taken a few minutes and not the three hours I'd envisaged, I was only too pleased to say yes.

So, if at some distant date you see a knock-kneed, large breasted, blue eyed, wide-hipped person hobbling towards you with a wonky shoulder and ankles that look like they've just endured a 23 hour non-stop flight long haul flight , they may just have received some of my organs - poor buggers .

No sooner has ...

... your sixteen year old received their GCSE exam results than the rhetoric begins. First we get the newspaper headlines that tell us that passes are up but grades are down or grades are up but passes are down. Then they're picked apart by the statisticians for anomalies or trends . The cockier students will post their results on Facebook or Snapchat or LookathowbriiliantIam social media sites and parents will bask in their children's reflected glory ... or otherwise. Nothing new here and if your children have worked hard and tried their best then why shouldn't you rejoice in their success ?

It's the 'otherwise' that upsets me. The students who tried their hardest but didn't quite make the grade . Or those whose brilliance is in the creative arts , the poor relation of the academic subjects ... sadly. The Holy Grail of a pass in both English and Maths , required of every sixth form, can prove an insurmountable hurdle to those whose sixth forms hopes have been dashed on enrolment day by a refusal to accept them onto their chosen courses because they failed to grasp the finer points of a simultaneous equation or only managed to list 14 of the 15 points in the pre-determined list of things you should have spotted in a written passage if you've got half a brain.

And then there are the schools' own websites  where the Heads wax lyrical about their students' achievements and why shouldn't they if it has been earned and well deserved ? But this is where my despair reaches new depths as I read the following in my son's school newsletter.

The GCSE grades were equally impressive with 92% of pupils achieving A* to C grades. We also saw a significant increase in pupils achieving the very highest grades with 102 A* grades awarded to our pupils. This is particularly pleasing because in the last two years we have worked hard to stretch our brighter and more able pupils.

Oh dear. Did no-one pass this by the ' this is guaranteed to piss off all parents and pupils who didn't manage to reach the giddy heights of excellence' voice of reason ?  So, if you're gifted, bright or able and managed a long list of A* grades - you can be classified as 'pleasing' but anything less and ... well , draw your own conclusions.

How sad that only the 'brighter and more able pupils' were stretched. If you fall into the 'must try harder' brigade you're damned to an eternity of under achievement. And incidentally, have humans not evolved beyond the 'must try harder' ignorance of public school education of the last century , when you'd be treated to a lashing if you hadn't memorised Homer's Iliad by the age of 8 ? Why not go the whole hog and make them stand in the corner on a stool wearing a pointy hat with a large D on it ?

So, the 'brighter and more able pupils' got stretched whilst the less bright and less able got what? In my book, I like to consider exam achievements as falling under the Comparatives and Superlatives headings of ...

GOOD - A student who can achieve an A* grade without getting out of bed - minimum effort required because he/ she has memorised every textbook to within an inch of its life on first reading and who thinks revision is for wimps. 

BETTER - a student who has managed to achieve a decent grade by working hard and being conscientious.

BEST  - A student who can pass an exam despite having spent most of their school life believing ( and possibly being told ) that they'll never amount to much and that their E grade in the mock exam is their own fault because they haven't put in the effort despite knowing full well that said student is dyslexic or dyspraxic ( or possibly both ). Their C grade is worth a million A* grades and just think ... they may well have actually achieved this despite being tossed onto the forgotten pile of those not considered to be 'brighter and more able' and been totally unstretched to boot.

I seem to write a post like this every year and it never seems to get any better . So, in my loudest voice possible ...

CONGRATULATIONS TO ALL THOSE STUDENTS WHO WORKED THEIR SOCKS OFF UNDER SUCH DIFFICULT CIRCUMSTANCES AND WITHOUT SO MUCH AS ANY RECOGNITION OF HOW HARD IT WAS FOR YOU !

As Rudyard Kipling once wrote  - Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it.

Hey Little Magpie - September Blog post

Take a peek at my layouts for Hey Little Magpie over on their blog today.

Coping with Sixth Form

It's a big step up . After the furore of the GCSEs , the hiatus of the wait for results, the joy ( or otherwise) of success , followed by a summer of festivals and friends, Year 12 can come as a rude shock.

Parents often think that their responsibility for schooling ends there. Their chicks have grown into fully fledged young adults and it's over to them now to take on the responsibility . Even if your sons or daughters are studying the kind of subjects that you haven't got a clue about , there's still lots you can do to help.

Here's my shortlist :-

• Gone ( sadly ) are the trips to WH Smiths for new pencil cases and novelty stationery or the queues in Clarks for prohibitively expensive shoes that only fit for about a term and even the sew-in name labels can be consigned to the bin. However , if you're expecting your teen to take it upon himself or herself ( girls slightly less so ) to equip themselves with folder, files and notepads, don't be surprised if they foil your attempts to send them off with a freshly ironed backpack and a clutch of newly sharpened pencils. Youngest son left me in no doubt that he DID NOT need any help getting himself organised. I therefore followed his advice  ignored him, bought everything and laid it casually on his desk as if the stationery fairy had dropped it off overnight. 

• The school dress code was 'smart casual'. They'll read that as the same T shirt they just slept in and mismatched socks. I bought a few short - sleeved proper shirts ( try not to buy these from M&S unless you want them to die of embarrassment - a lifelong ambition of mine ) and a couple of pairs of chinos and hung them casually in his wardrobe along with new underwear ( pant fairy's responsibility ) and a new pair of shoes as if they'd always been there. 

• Don't expect a photo opportunity on the doorstep like you may have done in the past - that is SUCH a big no-no. See photo below.

• Stock up the fridge with snacks and favourite foods for the first few nights and try not to eat them all before they get home.

• Don't expect any more than a nonchalant 'it was OK' if you ask them how it went and remind them that they've got to do it all over again tomorrow, and the day after that and.....

• Do ask them how it went as soon as they step over the threshold in the evening and brace yourself for the nonchalant ' it was OK' ..... maybe best not to remind them that they've got to do it all over again tomorrow etc on second thoughts.

• Expect them to go straight to their rooms and turn on their computers. Any questions along the lines of ' Have you get any homework ' will be ignored so best not to ask . They can always find out the hard way.

• Raid their backpacks on that first evening because you'll find scrunched up A4 papers about important thing like locker keys ( and payment for ) and text books, parent evenings and syllabus codes... oh and they'll complain bitterly about having been told all day by their new teachers that A Levels are REALY REALLY difficult and if they don't work hard enough they'll fail.

• Resist the temptation to remind them that A Levels are REALY REALLY difficult and if they don't work hard enough they'll fail. 

• And finally never forget that teenagers are invincible and that the world revolves around them.

All that said and you should survive the first week . You'll then have to do the same the next week and the week after that and.....

They're not always as grown up as they'd like you to believe. Youngest son confided in me that he felt like crying at break because he thought he was the only one sitting on his own talking to no-one. My heart broke but I know from experience that it won't be like for long . Making new friends, finding your way around and getting used to your new teachers' sense of humour ( or lack of ) will take a few weeks. By half term they'll be wondering what all the fuss is about ... and you'll be off to buy more shirts from anywhere other than Marks and Spencer.

Here's youngest peddling off into the distance ( if you squint closely you can spot him as a spec in the distance ) ... I daren't even suggest a photo on the doorstep so I had to leg it out to the garage and sneak in a quick one after he'd set off, hopefully oblivious to my paparazzi snapping... and doubly embarrassing as I was still in my dressing gown . 

Show us your bakes

Devoted to Great British Bake-off ? Who isn't ?

Baked a cake this week for husband's birthday , inspired by Nadiyha's floating POP can cheesecake showstopper. As one of his favourite tipples is Guinness and the chocolate cake contained a pint of the black stuff then it had to be Guinness can.

I had fun and games trying to suspend it on the end of various poles of varying lengths ( skewers, straws, chopsticks to name but three ) let alone attempt to slather the stick in frosting to make it look as if the pint was being freshly poured into the cake from above. I managed it eventually and I've sent a piccie in to Jo Brand's Friday night show - An Extra Slice . Fingers crossed they show it.

Ever felt taken for granted ?

That's a rhetorical question.

Outnumbered by 4 to 1 ( including the cat ) male: female ; is it any wonder as a lone woman in a tidal wave of testosterone and manopausal tendencies.

Take yesterday evening . A pleasant enough start with a culinary masterpiece of thoughtfully marinated Thai salmon - healthy for eldest teen , Asian infused for youngest son's preference , barbecued to husband's delight , with leftovers to boot for the cats. Procured, prepared and cooked to perfection, a crisp bottle of Chablis to hand and a little tossed salad on the side with a lusciously decadent loaf of olive oil and herb infused bread to mop up the juices. It's making me salivate just writing this.

The conversation begins un-menacingly enough with a lively debate on the wonders of technology ; a favourite topic for my gadget - hungry male household. I proffer up a harmless enough comment about the nonsense of remote-control overload ( we have at least a dozen in our house )  along the lines of 'We can put a man on the moon but we can't get a remote control to work properly ( telling my age I know,  I'm still stuck in the Apollo heyday of the sixties ).

Unwittingly , I have unleashed a Pandora's Box of an opinion which is immediately shouted down as an irrelevant interruption, a hackneyed gripe, an idiotic fallacy and many things , far worse, besides.
How's that for a conversation killer ? In short , I am wrong, they are right , I don't know what I'm talking about , I'm clearly an intellectually challenged Luddite and I've completely spoiled the entire evening.

My default response is to retreat inside my protective shell and venture no more verbal contributions to the 'discussion' whereupon I'm rounded upon for sulking, being sullen, and acting like a moody teenager - pot calling kettle black ?

I pondered on the days events, the lifts to the station, the ferrying to and from a myriad of last minute summer holiday optician's and orthodontist's appointments, the constant filling and emptying of the fridge and the clearing up after , the emptying of tenners from my purse for crucial expenses ( I have been keeping Subways and Shakeaway in business for the last 9 weeks) , the endless mountain of laundry and more besides and I realised that I had sunk t the depths of Dobby the House Elf. My response to the accusation of having contributed a moronic comment to the debate should have been to have gone outside and flayed myself with a bunch of birch twigs.

As I write this, I can hear hilarious guffaws coming from the TV room ( wonder if they've managed to switch it on with the remote control ) as the male contingent of our household are glued to Storage Wars, Jackass and ............. insert name of any banal and mindless US TV import here, whilst I am typing , having just cleaned the toilets and cleared bedroom floors of baked beans encrusted plates and dirty underwear.

This is the part of my rant where I should reconcile myself to the fact that they're only men/boys and therefore know no better and that I'm happy to enslave myself to their every whim because that's what mothers do . But I'm struggling.

16+

Now that youngest son has reached the age of sixteen , I can feel this childhood slipping through my fingers like sand on a beach.

First it was the the big teddy bear clear out ( traumatic to put it mildly ) when youngest wanted to update his bedroom . I managed to secret a few of my favourites under my bed. The de-cluttering experts would have a fit and that woman who has written the Magic of De-cluttering or whatever its called ( don't pretend you don't know who I mean ) would be hyper-ventialting. They'd have us believe that if you haven't worn a clothes item in over a year, it's time to fling it out. So does the same apply to teddies? If they haven't been hugged in over 12 months it's curtains ?

The trouble is , every time I peer under the bed and see their beady little glass eyes peering out imploringly , I can't bring myself to suffocate  bag them up in a bin liner bound for the charity shop. We've already shipped out 3 carrier bag-fulls of soft toys and I had to get youngest to take them in to the shop, for fear I might attempt a last minute retrieval . I sat in the car and shed a little tear.

You see, bears are not just for Christmas in my view. I can remember buying each and everyone, the heartbreak of having to choose just one, leaving all the others on the shelf. I would have to look into all their hairy little faces and decide carefully which one was really meant to come home with me. It was usually a twisted ear or a wonky eye that would do it ... always a sucker for the under-dog. I can remember placing them on top of the boys' Christmas Santa sacks so that just their sweet floppy arms were dangling over the edge. Is it any wonder that I can't bear ( no pun intended) to part company ?

Last week, we lined them all up on bed and sealed their fate - stay or keep . How are you meant to make a decision like that ?

Jack the cat joined in , looking very smug at the back , knowing he was a keeper. See that wooly sheep in the middle foreground ? I bought that for eldest son ( 2nd Shepherd ) for his very first Nativity play. He wore the inevitable tea-towel on his head secured with a roped curtain tie-back and clutched his little 'sheepy-peep' toddling from one side of the stage to the other where all three shepherds seated themselves around the red and orange cellophane 'fire' .... and there he proceeded to roast it over the make-believe flames of what he thought looked like a BBQ ! Of course Shepherds one and three did likewise and they brought the house down, not literally but I wouldn't have put it past him. I was mortified at the time, thinking the other parents must have thought we indulged in a spot of live animal sacrificing at home and that the RSPCA would come knocking any minute. I can see the funny side of it now and much to his irritation I like to trot that story out from time to time. 

Then there's piggly wiggly - you can just see his curly tail sticking up at the back. His name had to be pronounced in a Tennessee drawl - don't ask me why - it was just what we did. You see they each have stories and memories attached - oh just spotted Hedwig's claw poking out. I've got to stop, I'm filling up.

So it didn't end there . Today I decided to clear out our enormous kitchen cupboard . We don't have many fitted kitchen units - it's all a bit free-style - we were way ahead of the trend. It started with the intention of clearing the top shelf to re-instate my cookery books which had ended up on another floor ( that's a whole other blog post ) but ended up with the Full Monty de-clutter ( yes Miss 'Magic of De- Cluttering', I can do it when the mood takes me ) which took around three hours. How many jars of honey can one family own and what's with my mustard fetish ?

So I ended this gargantuan task sorting through a huge enamel tin of paper cake cases. Most peeps will have a dozen or so but I seem to have acquired the National Collection. Time for some of them to go. Another tearful trauma. Much like the teddies, each one had a story . There were the Golden Jubilee street party red/white and blues, then there were eldest son's school Halloween party ones ( he was six and he's now twenty - do the maths ) and the chocolate truffle mini ones for the teachers last Christmas and the Easter bunny ones ... and the 8th Birthday party ones ... and .... and....

It was all a bit hopeless and I hadn't even started on the birthday candle-holders tin. Maybe I'll leave that for another day when I'm feeling stronger and go read a chapter of that wretched 'Life-changing Magic of chucking out everything that ever held a happy memory' book. I'm not converted ... yet.

Hey Little Magpie Blog post for August

Up on the Hey Little Magpie blog today - not one , not two , not three but FOUR layouts - been super busy this month. Sneak peeks below.

Please take a peak here and if you have time, leave a comment.

Thanks for looking.

GBBO

... or Great British Bake Off in case you've been living under a rock,  is back with a vengeance. Wednesday nights are now sacrosanct and the KitchenAid has been dusted off in honour although I don't think I'll be tackling a Madeira cake or a Black Forest Gateau any time soon.

I have decided to dress up in the style of the preceding episode's loser so this evening I will be sporting a natty little hat which I shall not remove for the entire evening even though I'll be indoors and am just off to the tattoo parlour for a quick all over with the ink injector. God help me if prison man ( Paul Hollywood / Richard Branson lookalike) burns his buns this week or I'll be having to grow a bread and have a sense of humour bypass op by next Wednesday.

Just wondering what our trainee anaesthetist might conjure up this week - possibly a spot of gas and air in his soufflé ?

R.I.P Teddy

In honour of a life well lived.

 He was so well loved. 

 Rest in Peace Teddy.

1925 - 2015

Moped Ted

My husband's father Teddy is a remarkable man. On the cusp of 90 and having lived the most extraordinary life, I realised this morning that with his wife Pam , sadly now deceased , between them they were responsible for bringing 3 children into the world , who themselves brought 8 children into the world between them who subsequently brought their own children into the world , numbering 6 in total plus another 2 on the way . That is a grand total of 3 children, 8 grandchildren and 8 great- grandchildren.

Not only is he possibly one of the kindest, most generous and selfless people I know , but he is also one of the most resilient and resourceful. He was still riding his moped into his 89th year hence the nickname Moped Ted.

Having survived Tuberculosis as a young adolescent , he went on to survive WWII in Britain through the 1940's , being rather unfairly called an 'alien' due to his Swiss nationality , putting out fires on London's rooftops as a Fire Warden.

His skills were revered as a film cameraman in the early 1950s,  joining Independent Television when it first started and rising through the creative ranks to become one of the best - loved and admired Lighting Directors at London Weekend Television. His retirement was well-earned but such was his reputation that he still continued to work into his seventies.

Of course behind every great man there is a tower of patient, resilient and supportive strength - the wife . Pam was equally adored by all that knew her and together they soldiered life's ups and downs as every stoic couple of their generation seems so capable of doing - A lesson to us all.

I feel very lucky to have had their love and support over the years since my marriage to their son David, especially as my own parents were tragically taken from me in my twenties. I can still remember the twinkle in Pam's eyes as she cheekily had a quick ciggie in the garden , a little merry from a large glass of sherry - both hers and my favourite tipple.

I am thinking of Teddy in his hospital bed as I write this and praying for a peaceful and dignified ending as he nears the end of his glorious life. What better legacy to leave than the admiration and affection of not one, not two, but three generations of offspring, all of whom have benefited so enormously, in ways they may even be yet to discover, from knowing this wonderful man.

BEYOND excited !!!

Yes , I don't like to use a proliferation of exclamation marks but this warrants three.

I am BEOYND excited to the point that I'm going to have to invent a whole new word to describe my excitement.

On 27th September I will be singing ( alto ) Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man : A Mass for Peace with VfH ( voices for Hospices ) at Kempton Park in the presence of none other than the composer himself.

I can barely contain myself ! It is my favourite composition in the world, by the most talented composer and all in aid of one of the best causes in the world. Oh My ! Just ordered the score and I'm going to start practising straight away. Yippee !

Bargain hunting

I don't often go to Hobbycraft but it seemed rude not to stop in the other day as I was passing . Things have changed a little since the DoCrafts and Papermania only days. They now stock all sorts of good brands including one of my favourites - Little B. I adore these tiny 3mm wide washi tape rolls - gold on white .

Had to get one of each design as they were in the clearance section at half price as were the Thickers ( Kitten - one of my favourites ) , some eensy teensy Tim Holtz letter stickers and some vellum card inserts . You never know when they might come in handy ... maybe for Christmas cards, which stand about as much chance of being made as a snowflake's chance in hell !

Are these people really grown-ups ?

Every now and then I go on Facebook . It takes me about 2 minutes to realise why I don't make a habit of it. The bragging season is upon us. Not content with boring us all with close-ups of the £4.35 cup of coffee they've just bought ( more fool them ) they've now moved on to bigger and better things. We're treated to an eyeful of some ludicrous cocktail they're sipping on the balcony of the sort of hotel they know full well that most people will never be able to afford in the kind of resort that has less to do with travelling but everything to do with bragging.

I used to know people like this. They were in my primary school, sitting at the front of the class with their hands raised higher than everybody else's shouting " Miss, Miss .... me Miss .... me ". They might as well have had NOTICE ME plastered on their foreheads. Facebook was invented for them. They've never really grown up. They have to tell the world that their holiday is bigger and better. They've had a modesty bypass and they're gonna tell the world about what a far superior time they're having than any of us.

The kind of post I love is ... bugger ... the washing machine has just packed up . Now that's real life and gains my utmost respect. Or maybe ... oops forgot to shave my bikini line - now that's more like it . This week I'd have posted ... how do I get rid of chin hair ... or .... why do mosquitos like me so much or even .... cat's just puked on freshly laundered duvet. Of course I'd then have had to take selfies with me and cat's puke or snap-chatted a few hundred disinterested morons or tweeted it to the masses or maybe I should just pretend that the duvet cover in question was a real silk,  2000 thread count, gold plated , Versace designed little number in a 10* billionaire's resort on the other side of the world . Nah ... not my style.

Hey Little Magpie - Blog Post for July

Some sneaks of my layouts using Studio Calico's Amelia collection for this months blog post for Hey Little Magpie - go take a look and if you like what you see... please leave a comment.
Thanks

Proud Mum

Last week was a whirlwind of end of term activities . It always catches me out - I know it's coming but I never seem prepared. It didn't help that we were in the middle of a heatwave. For some bizarre reason I thought it would be nice to hold an impromptu celebratory party picnic on the school fields before Speech Day which turned out to be the hottest day of the century. I ended up lugging picnic tables, chairs, ice buckets, cool boxes, trays of canapés and some very heavy bottles of fizz from kitchen to car and then onto the playing fields whilst the ice melted and the canapes wilted and we all nearly died of heat exhaustion.

We then sat stuck to plastic chairs in a marquee whilst the Head of Sports delivered an hour long rundown of every school sporting acheivement from endurance kayaking to tiddlywinks ( I made that one up but we'd all nodded off in the heat by then ) and that was before the speeches had even begun.

BUT it was worth the wait . Whilst I wondered if I might introduce ' extreme picnic endurance' onto next year's sporting calendar , I heard the sound of youngest son's name being read aloud and saw him spring up onto the stage to collect the Senior School prize for Drama - bless all six foot of him .

Very proud Mum .

Hey Little Magpie Blog Post for June

Over on the Hey Little Magpie now - my blog post for June . If you like turquoise , I hope you'll like these.

A little teaser to tempt you over.

Calorie free treats

They look so good I could eat them.

I just ordered from Hey Little Magpie's site - couldn't resist at £2.99 a pop. What I love about their sale is that there's none of that up to ( in tiny print) 50% off - all of their sale items are at least 50%.

I love these Hero Arts Shadow Inks but only had a couple - time to remedy that by expanding my collection. My ink collection is complete ... for now .

Alien Exam Boards

Beginning to wonder if the people at the exam board OCR are really human ?

This morning's Physics GCSE paper bypassed most of the topics that might have proved useful and interesting to our future scientists.... Red Shift, Lunar and Solar Eclipses, the debate on the size of the universe, how to interpret ray diagrams ... and chose instead to ask about the relative merits of establishing contact with alien life form. Yes , that is what they asked.

I've got it ... the question setters at OCR have been invaded by aliens from outer space !

Summertime .... and the weather is ....

..... freezing . Caught eldest teen putting the heating on the other day - don't blame him.

In anticipation of warmer weather I treated myself to a new bike . Oh my , I'm in love with it .

This may have something to do with its delicious mint ice cream colour or possibly the stylish leather saddle or even just the fact that its a joy to ride. I can see myself peddling through Bushy Park on a regular basis just to take it on a little outing. Beats walking a dog and I won't have to bag up any droppings - what's not to like ?

Maths Exam - Here I come ...

... to all my wonderful GCSE maths students who are sitting their maths exam tomorrow

• You have worked hard all year - you deserve all the success that is coming to you
• Believe in your abilities , you are far cleverer than you think you are
• Enjoy the experience ...  just think in years to come you will look back at this and marvel at how far you've come
• Visualise success - see yourself opening that results envelope on the 20th August and picture the smile on your face
• Get a good night's sleep 
• Just imagine how good you're going to feel this time tomorrow
• I have every faith in your ability - Carpe Diem - Seize the day !
• You CAN do this
• I am SO very proud of all of you