What do you do if you are a mother of two maturing teenagers (Julka and Maciek), a wife to a husband who is still his mother's little boy (the Spouse), and a teacher of English to increasingly demanding students who think they know more than you just because they've heard the latest single from The Red Hot Chilli Peppers? Well, if you want to stay sane, you talk to yourself, and what better way to do that than by keeping a diary (in English, of course).

So welcome to the Secret diary of Mrs. A. As you will see, the language Mrs A. uses is particularly influenced by the sporting theme of this edition. If you need any help understanding the sporting idioms in her diary, just place the mouse over the purple ball following an underlined word or phrase. You can try it out with 'sticky wicket' in the heading above as the first example. After that, it should be plain sailing!

23^rd August, Monday

Summer holidays coming to an end. School again soon. Alina phoned. Wants me to join an aerobics class. It's for the middle-aged and elderly. Alina says I'm perfect for it. She says giving up smoking was an achievement, but I shouldn't rest on my laurels. Kick-off the new term with a new goal. Says if I don't, I'll soon look like Michael Jackson over 60. What could she mean? To tell the truth, I wouldn't mind, as long as he keeps having plastic surgery at the present rate. And as for his figure, I'd change places right now.

24^th August, Tuesday

Postcard from Julka. The trip to Augustów was a disaster from the start. First, Pani Ania, their form teacher, caught the boys smoking. Julka was there too. Pani Ania completely lost her temper. The whole group will have to report to the Head when they get back. They're sure to be for the high jump. I'd told Julka to steer clear of those boys; obviously she didn't listen. I'm afraid poor Pani Ania is still learning the ropes as a form teacher.

25^th August, Wednesday.

The Head phoned. He wants my class to prepare a performance for the 1^st September - the opening of the school year. A big fish from the Kuratorium is coming. Talk about being thrown into the new term at the deep end! Of course the Head doesn't see it that way. He says that with my track record as a form teacher, this should be plain sailing. He expects something solemn yet cheerful, not too short yet not too long, both patriotic and humorous, an optimistic opening for the year's work ahead of us all, and a serious contemplation of the anniversary of the outbreak of WWII. Apart from that, he has given me free rein. He says if we do it well, there'll be extra money for the class trip in June. I've really been boxed into a corner! And only a week to prepare it. How about some rap versions of Broniewski and Konopnicka with disco-polo in the background?

26^th August, Thursday

The Spouse phoned. His annual week with the in-laws is adding colour to his otherwise monotonous existence. Oh excuse me, dear diary, some explanation is needed: "the in-laws" means "his beloved parents" and "monotonous existence" is the one he leads with us (where his real home is). The presents he'd brought them (and which I'd chosen) didn't meet with approval. His mum's comment about the silk scarf was: "And where am I supposed to wear something that posh? Does your wife think I've got my wardrobe stuffed with designer wear?" That was below the belt. Next time I'll get her something from the market.

27^th August, Friday

Rehearsal day. My kids, summoned by phone, duly arrived carrying their instruments. We had a violin, 2 flutes, an accordion and a harmonica. I told them we had only three days for rehearsals. Even so, we were rather slow off the mark. First they held a contest comparing their "holiday trophies". Daria and Kajtek were neck-and-neck, the first one sporting a seventh earring in her left lobe, the latter boasting a stud in his right nostril. The runner-up was Dominik with a tattoo on his left forearm. But when Tomek hitched up his T-shirt to reveal a brand new appendicitis scar, Sylwia said that this was not the same, and he was now moving the goalposts. Just when I'd turned everyone's attention back to the performance, who should turn up but the Head. He said I should incorporate some folk dances into the programme. Typical of him to stick his oar in where it's not wanted. The kids agreed to meet again on Monday.

28^th August, Saturday

A day of surprises. First Alina phoned announcing that she was going to visit in the afternoon. She said we're going to celebrate and what do I want - cheesecake or meringue? I know that when it comes to baking she's way out of her depth, so I told her just to bring a couple of beers. She took the hint, but said I always took the wind out of her sails. I wonder what we're celebrating?

At lunch time Maciek phoned (reverse charges). He's been robbed. " Mum, I need you to send me some money so that I can get home." The joys of parenthood.

At five Alina appeared in a new outfit - very low neck - carrying two bottles of French wine and some videos. "Well?" she said, smoothing her short skirt, "What do you think?" She was fishing for compliments. "You look great" I said thinking to myself: "Why must every woman who has just lost half a kilo think she looks as if she'd lost five?" "What are we celebrating?" "Wait", she said, "first, for real women - some real men in action". I got rather alarmed. But it was only Mel Gibson in a couple of oldies. Just then the Spouse phoned. He's bringing Dad home and could I please make something nice for dinner. Have I suddenly learnt to cook in his absence? He must have heard Alina's giggling in the background, which rather pleased me. Let him think what he will. When we were well into the second bottle Alina revealed her secret: she has a new boyfriend, an unemployed actor who is twenty years younger than her. She's really skating on thin ice this time, but it's her life not mine.

30th August, Monday

The first hour of rehearsals was a complete disaster, but I refused to throw in the towel. It turned into a real marathon session, and somehow we managed to finish up the day with something which might be OK. Well, we'll give it our best shot and only Wednesday will tell!

(P.S. My dear diary I owe you an explanation. When I say "form teacher" I mean "wychowawca" and obviously "performance" means "część artystyczna". It's not my fault that certain languages don't develop, is it?)