The Ides of March. I spent a highly appropriate two-thousand-and-forty-fourth anniversary of the assassination of
Gaius Julius Caesar: In the morning, I went to
London to sit a
government test, which certainly
felt like a knife in the back, due to its combination of stupidity and viciousness.
In the afternoon, I rushed to
Hemel Hempstead to act as a supply teacher - which I'm not properly qualified to do. Today's topic was
Roman Britain, for
history. I duly told them the sad story of Caesar - although I left out the
sex, as I thought that might be unappreciated. We also covered
Augustus and
Claudius very quickly, before moving on to
Boudicca's revolt (or
Boadicea's,
according to taste). As she
ravaged this area in particular, that captured the imagination of the ten-year-olds. We also did - by request - a spot of
Latin, and then I went home, dog-tired.