Oh dear. Oh dear me. Oh deary deary deary me.
Have just discovered that the teacher I thought was called Miss (w)Horeson is actually called Miss Hallsham. It appears that Firstborn has been pronouncing her name a bit strangely - or maybe all those years of bopping in front of great big speakers at dodgy gigs has finally come home to roost.
There I was, feeling really sorry for the poor woman, thinking that it was such a shame for a young pretty girl like her to be saddled with the sort of name that makes schoolboys snigger (oh, ok, and mums old enough to know better).
Or shall we say that I did feel sorry for her... right up to when she loudly corrected me on my humungous mispronunciation gaffe whilst throwing me the sort of sad, pitying look I myself would reserve for a mad old bat who smells of wee.
Well, that's not entirely fair. I'm pretty sure I don't smell of wee.