light at the end of the tunnel

UPDATE:
Mood has suddenly taken a positive turn, due to ichi-nensei teacher.
I should give you a little background on said teacher.
She is fast approaching fifty-five (according to her); according to colleagues she has already shimmied past the big SIX-O, shifted gears and is navigating the autoban to oba-san-ness.
She is a music teacher, with one of those dreadful pseudo-opera shaky voices, and it is she who stands on the stage as choral conductor, giving it loads, when the school sings it's song at special gym ceremonies.
She likes so wear big broaches, and gaudy Laura Ashley two-pieces (i hope you're thinking the Laura Ashley "power to the flower-and for a short time only, extra flowers !" range) , she has a substantial fringe ("bangs" to the north americans), which measures ten centimetres, by ten centimtres CUBED, and the rest of her hair she wears in a high bun.
She has the most clippety-cloppety shoes of all the ladies here so she's good for entrances.
I get the feeling from her via other teachers that her biological clock stalled during menopause and she mostly happy fronting a veritable whore-with-clap type countenance.

So, that's who we have in mind.
I mentioned that there are ichi-nensei class matches going on, so most of the teachers have changed into tracksuits.
Not her.
So sure is she of the classic multi-functional style of her floral ensemble, that she has teamed it with a brilliantly turquoise (blue to the boys) Dodgers puffer jacket, with striped collar, cuffs and waist, but effortlessly thrown over her shoulders.
WELL !
So much for pashminas ladies.
SOOOOOOOO last season.