Symbol of forgetfulness

Teaching practice 1

Ok back to the point. Year one at college and the slow and painful growing up process that I guess never ends.

The college itself was small enough for everyone to more or less know everyone. I think there were only something like 700 places altogether and it wasn't hard to be on nodding terms with most.

Through the sports teams and other societies as well as fellow residents in hall, I soon gathered many friends and became part of a community, in a way that I had never experienced before. My enthusiasm for life was probably at its peak and I was up for everything and anything. I won't talk about relationships and the like, as it wouldn't make interesting reading and besides I'd hate to forget someone!

Lectures were ok, although I am pretty sure that the only time we learned anything about education was when we were sent out on teaching practice. This was a baptism of fire, as after only six weeks in college, we were all sent out into schools for the first of three placements over the course. The idea was, I suppose, to find out early on, the ones that were just not cut out for it, and there were a number of friends who never returned after that first placing. We assumed that they had left, rather than being eaten by the children.

The whole thing was very scary. We had no say in where we went, and I found myself posted overseas. I had never heard of the Isle of Wight and had no idea of its location, but come the day, a number of us, bags packed, headed for the ferry and for our six weeks in schools.

We were placed into digs, run by two ancient spinsters, who hated students but loved the rent. There was another woman tenant who continually played the theme to The Good The bad and the ugly, and somehow that seemed appropriate if bloody annoying.

I was sent to a primary school, and although i adored the kids, I quickly realised that I was not suited for primary school life. It went ok and my tutor was satisfied that I'd make the grade, and what is more I enjoyed my time there. I don't remember very much of what I did or even the staff, but at the end of the time, I realised that I could, if i had to, manage a classroom.

That being done, we all went back to college in time to end the term and go home. Something that I was not looking forward to. I had no money left and so had to hitch hike my way back, and i seem to recall that it was raining that day, and it took hours to get a lift. However I did get home eventually and redefined the word homesick - to me it meant sick of home and it hit me very quickly. I wanted nothing more than to be back at college with the freedom that it offered.

Catching up with friends at home made me realise that a gulf was opening up between us and that it was unlikely ever to be bridged again. They were moving on in their directions and so was I. I felt that their paths were likely to be straight and that I had yet to find one.

Writers block or something like that

I seem to have run dry today and I don't know why? Guess that it's a form of writer's block, not that I'd ever consider myself a real writer. Real writers have real readers, and can inspire and influence. They have ideas and ways of looking at the world and making even the dullest things interesting.

I really admire and envy those who have the ability to capture the imagination, whether it be through the written word, the spoken word, painting or music. I have always aspired to these things and never really had the talent for anything much. Oh there are things that I can do quite well; nobody is without some sort of skill, but I yearn to be really good at something. I am working at writing, but each time I read a good author, i realise that I have left it too late, much like everything else I guess.

I love the work of Margaret Attwood. She is one of many very talented Canadians, and being Canadian, few people over here have heard of her. Well that is a bit of an exaggeration, as she lives here much of the time, but she is not in the same popularity league as the likes of Steven King, Terry Pratchett, Ian Rankin and the rest of the wonderful authors that keep our bookshelves full.

She is quite prolific and thankfully there are still plenty of novels left for me to read. Reading about Canada becomes less painful as time goes by and I can immerse myself in her prose, without feelings of anger or loss.

Her characters are real and easily accessed, and I guess that is what makes for a good story, probably more so than the plot itself. Steven King maintains that he does not "plot out his books" but allows stories to unfold all by themselves. I try that, being fundamentally lazy, and then i run out of steam or get hopelessly confused. I think I need to focus on characters more, but I don't meet many people these days. I seem content to have withdrawn from the real world for most of my time, it's better for me that I do in some ways. Reaching out only seems to cause me pain and I don't want any more of that. Much better to stay numb and maintain the appearance.

I have met some wonderful people in my life and I hesitate to make use of some of them, though I don't know why. I 'd like to imagine that somewhere, somebody is using me in a book. It would be a form of immortality I guess and maybe that is what immortality is all about.

Anyway, clearly I have little to write about this morning and I am not in the mood to continue with college days, so I'll cease this rambling and do something a little more worthwhile. Having said that I haven't a clue what that will entail!!!

PS I just checked my profile - i can see that changes are needed, but I can't be bothered really. I notice that it has been accessed 243 times? Who on earth can possibly be interested?? Do feel free to comment!

English - C-

I have just been reading through the previous entry and realising how badly that it is written. I am tempted to edit it but at the end of the day, what is the point? I will just try to be more careful next time.

Today has been pleasant for a number of reasons, mainly linked to a long email this morning. I won't go into that, suffice it to say that it brought a rare smile to my face.

Time to get dinner. I wonder what to cook? I'll see what is in the fridge and maybe an idea will come crashing into my head.

College years part one

I seem to have been sitting in front of my screen for too long today. I have been catching up on important emails - not many i must add, but it's a way of saying what is on my mind.

I have already let a cup of tea go cold and drunk a lukewarm coffee and already it's about lunchtime. The sun is shining again so I guess we are getting a little late summer after all.


Next week sees the return to school, and so I guess there are a lot of students feeling trepidations at the thought of getting up in the mornings again, and even more parents who will be glad to get them out of the house again.

Going to a new place, whether it be a school or a college, can be a very daunting experience for some; I expected it to be but it was not. I felt utterly free, for the first time in my life. Liberated from the tyrrany of my father, I determined to change myself and become more me than what he had tried, unsuccessfully to mould me into.

I had no restraints, physical(see back!) or otherwise, and I didn't know how to use that freedom. The fun came in trying to find out. Actually i did have one pretty important constraint, and that was money. I hadn't much in the way of savings and my student grant was pretty minimal, so I had to get by as well as i could. Fortunately in those days, accommodation, bills and food were all provided, so all i had to find was money for a hectic social life that was to develop over the next three years.

This will make some people laugh, but in those days a pound would buy 8 pints of beer, or about 100 cigarettes, it would pay for two curries, or keep one in busfares for a month. My budget ran to two pounds fifty a week, plus whatever else I could earn or beg from my mother. Anyway i did get by, I never bought clothes or other luxuries, and tended to live in jeans and probably nylon shirts. (They didn't need ironing!)

That year i made some wonderful friends, one of which I still see from time to time, though not often enough. He and I are very different in all sorts of ways, yet we get on very well and he has been one of my greatest supports through troubled times. I know that he is reading this and want him to know how much i appreciate him. He is one of four people to whom this blog is entrusted. If you are one of the other three, then you are in good company.

Growing up was the chief aim of college years, and to do so slowly and with as much pleasure as possible. Girls were in abundance, (one of the attractions of Portsmouth was the huge ratio of 7 women to one man!) and although we had to compete with the polytechnic guys, there were plenty to go around and go around I did. The first year I suppose I was testing the water as it were. I had assumed that my girlfriend back home would have moved on and did not expect her to wait for me to come home. Something else i got wrong, and for which I am very sorry now. I know now that i was not ready for a relationship that had any meaning at all. I wonder if I ever was? Anyway I confess to a long string of casual relationships, none of which meant much at all, and I didn't let them get in the way of important things like, hockey, basketball, athhletics and Caving. I joined everything that interested me. I even joined the Historical society because they ran free trips to all sorts of places. My life was very full and those were probably some of the happiest days of my life.

Monday

"When you die, first you lose your life, then you lose your illusions." Terry Pratchett
Think I am going about things the wrong way.

Hi Guardian - You help me more than you know.

Weather

I'd just like it put on record that it is a warm sunny day here today.

More results

Well Holly got her A grade and i think that Stephan Got his 2 A*s so i am very happy with them all.
I take little credit for their success as they all worked so hard and deserve to wallow in their achievements.
I hope that the celbrations have begun and that they last well into the weekend. I shall raise a glass to them all
but it's a bit early right now. maybe later.

Results

Results day has arrived, and you know what? I am nervous too. I shouldn't be, but when you have an interest in these things, you also feel a certain responsibility for the outcome. I feel sure that all three of them will do well, but I will feel better when I hear from them.

I am determined to write more today, I am spending a lot of time fiddling about with a website right now, and that, along with work for the club has been absorbing my time. Today I feel like being creative in a different way.

I am still exploring Second Life and find it fascinating. One of the frustrations originally was that on my old computer, everything ran slowly and jerkily, so interest waned rapidly. Since transferring to the newer machine, that problem seems resolved and now I pop in most days. I think that fundamentally it goes some way to filling a gap in my life, one that has been there for quite a while. I have met some lovely people there and one in particular who has awoken my creative urge that seemed to have withered and died. Now i feel it growing again and I want to make the most of my time, as you never know how much you have left. In Second Life, one can take on whatever persona you like, and there are those who become the avatars of their own inner fantasies, exploring the dark, bizaare and even perverted natures of their personalities. There are cruel and viscious people ther, as in real life, but on balance most people simply project their own persona onto what is effectively a real time, role playing game. I know that it is a game that can become very addictive and so I try not to log in too often, but the temptation is very real. Oddly I find it impossible to behave in any other way than I do in real life, and my Avatar, like me, wears just a tee shirt and a pair of jeans. Guess that I don't do role play very well.

Just had a call telling me that Lucy has 2 A* grades for her science, so I am thrilled for her. Not heard about Holly of Stephan yet but I feel that they too will have done well.

More later in the day.

Busy day

Such a busy day today, just can't seem to get down to writing for pleasure. You know, I used to hate writing, but now it has become one of the main pleasures in my life.

I have a new friend who also writes and we seem to be on simmilar wavelengths over a number of things. I hope that we can write together at some time. That is a rewarding occupation, and hopefully this time we can finish something.

This week sees the arrival of the GCSE exam results, and because of my lovely students I have an interest again. I do hope that they do well and can ignore all the crap in the press that will follow. If the results are worse than last year the teachers will be blamed of course, and if the results are better then the exams will be too easy. It's a lose lose situation and i know all about them. Anyway, good luck to Holly, Lucy and Stephan - you all deserve to excell in all you do.

Pastures new

I have just preordered the latest offering from Loreena McKennitt. It's a DVD and double CD package and a snip at £15.00 so I look forward to its arrival. I am sure that my young musical friend will be interested in borrowing it at some stage, and of course she is always welcome to do so.

Now - where was I?

Oh yes, I was off to become a teacher and could look forward to heading south for the next three years. I should have felt nervous I suppose, but I felt no trepidation there at all. All I can recall is a sense of relief. I had an escape route and i was going to take it. My only regret was that I'd be leaving my girlfriend behind, but we'd keep in touch of course we would. The rest of the year swept by, and then it was the exams - meaningless and pointless for me. Once the exams were done, school was over, and all the routine rituals of cap and tie burning gone through. A long summer holiday lay before me, and then - the unknown and unexplored.

It was a hot summer and full of parties and music and of course work. I took a job in a hotel bar in town, which meant a 4mile walk back home at 1am. Not a great prospect after a long day in the bar, however I managed it for a while, and then moved into a spare room in an Aunt's house. That worked out well for a while as the walk there was much shorter and I was left more or less to my own devices. Things fell apart a little when she came into my room one night, wearing very little and quite drunk. I think she wanted more than i was prepared to give, so I moved out again.

Much of the rest of that summer was a blur and it was soon over. My relationship with my girlfriend had developed into a real relationship for the first time in my life andI was getting reluctant to go away. I knew that if i stayed that I would be trapped into the routine existence of village life and I could not face that, so I went.

I left for college with a small amount of cash, some textbooks that my mother had bought for me, my puny wardrobe, and little else, packed into a tatty cardboard suitcase. I left the house and walked a mile or so to where the coach would pick me up. No-one came to see me off and I felt quite alone as i waited for the bus to come. Alone but exhilarated - I knew that I would never live here again, and as the bus pulled away I didn't even glance back.

It was a long journey, as coaches stop everywhere en route, but eventually I was there, in the centre of the City of Portsmouth. I felt alive and thrilled to be there amongst so many people. there were others at the coach stop, seemingly of my age and also with suitcases. I struck up a conversation and soon found someone to share a cab to the hall of residence.

This was a newish site and I was consigned to the twelve storey block, known as Barnard Tower. I had arrived!

Looking for an out.

Last time I stepped back into the past, I was talking about deaths and how I responded to them. Not a particularly upbeat sort of subject, though one that can't be avoided. Someone who used to be the closest friend I ever had, recently experienced a vicarious bereavement and I know that it will have been painful for her, because it will have opened up wounds that have barely healed. I feel for her, I am finding it hard to stop caring.

Today I will go back to the last days at school and see where we go from there. I have never been a great planner and tend to go for things head on, never knowing where I will wind up. Maybe if i was a better forward thinker, I'd have done better at school and perhaps I'd be better off now than I am.

The last year at Grammar School, was probably better than most of the others. By this time, I'd got to know a number of people and could drift in and out of any number of social circles. The main problem however was geographical. I still lived out in the wilds and had limited means of getting around. One of my friends from the village had bought a car, and we did get around quite a bit with him, but that was only the one social group, and many of my friends were those from school.

Through Mike, at the youth club, I got to hear of a scooter that someone wanted rid of. It was an old Lambretta LD150, and although it worked, it was not in great condition and I had little money. He settled for a princely sum of Two pounds and ten shillings - all that I could muster, and i proudly wheeled it home. The next few days were spent, buying paint, helmet and the rest of the gear that was necessary. I really wanted huge rear view mirrors and an aerial with a foxes tail attached, I wanted a parka with a fur hood, I wanted to be a Mod!

What one wants however is not always in keeping with what one can afford and so I had to settle for the paint job and the helmet. I think that the helmet cost several time that of the scooter, and come to think of it, the paint probably did too. Anyway I did a fair job and painted it two tone blue and before long it was ready for the road. I still remember the first ride, when i had to take it to get it MOT tested. The sense of freedom was amazing, even though the sense of speed was sadly lacking. The engine was not at its best and I never exceeded 40 mph, but it was mine and now I could go places. (As long as they were not far away!) It passed the test, and from that day I rarely used buses. I even took it to school, which I thought was pretty cool.

My social life improved enormously and I could get to parties that were not on a bus route and finished after ten at night, I could disappear for hours, exploring the wider area, and I have visions of escaping once more. There were one or two girls that came into and went out of my life that year, but one that could have shared a long term relationship, had circumstances been different. She was two years behind me at school and very petite and pretty. We began to see each other very frequently, and I could now get to her house with no difficulty. So our relationship grew and I experienced feelings that I had never had before. I guess that she was the first love of my life, and our relationship became as close as it could be. Although I loved her, I still had to escape. I could not live in the village, I did not want what long term residents seemed to settle for and so I continued to work towards my getaway.

Careers advice in those days was simple. If you were smart and worked hard you went to University, preferably Oxford or Cambridge. If you were less smart or didn't do the work, you went to Teacher's training College, if you were even less smart you went into nursing or the Police force, and that was that. It was suggested that my A level performance may not be up to standard for the first option, and so i was steered into applying for Teacher Training.

ME? a teacher? I was the scourge of most of mine, so why should i become one? Well I did think long and hard about it and decided that if nothing else I could get away from home for three years and then? Well who knows? Three years then seemed a lifetime away. So I applied. I chose three colleges on the basis of - 1. Distance away from home 2. Proximity to Caving areas 3. Being close to the sea. I filled in the forms and off they went.

In what seemed days, i was offered an interview at Portsmouth, and friend offered to drive me down there. That was very good of him and I don't think I ever returned the favour. I was not familiar with the big cities and the experience was exhilarating. I recall the interview well and in particular being asked questions about aestivating snails. My natural history interest came in handy and I seemed to make a good impression. I must have done, as I was offered a place - unconditionally!

Now that was a bad move in some ways. I did not need any A levels at all to get where I wanted to go. What was I to do? Work like a demon to get through? or enjoy my last year? It wasn't a hard choice to make.

Sunday bloody sunday

A wet sunday, so i am indoors and awaiting the start of the football match on the Radio. It's not as bad as it sounds, as I can sit and write for a while. I have started writing short stories again, largely due to a new source of inspiration. I don't think that they are suitable for this blog but who knows?

Next week I must get back to writing the story that I started so long ago. I have spent so long on it, I feel that I must get it finished. It is very rare for me NOT to finish something that I start; call it pig headedness if you like but I will even struggle through a book that I am not enjoying, rather than not finish it.

I am reading Margaret Attwood again. This is some sort of self imposed punishment, as her books are all set in the southern part of Ontario, and as such are constant reminders of the past. She writes wonderfully well though and I will not deprive myself of her, simply to avoid pain.

OK - I promise myself that after today I will return to blogging on a regular basis. For now though, I have little worth saying.

Just drivel

There are days when I have no clue as to what to write, and there are days like today when I have so many thoughts tumbling around in the vacuity of my mind that it's hard to decide which angle to take.

Today started well. Yesterday afternoon I ordered some new ink tanks for my printer, which of course is out of action as I ran out of black. This morning the postman got me out of bed to receive the aforementioned inks. Delighted by the speed of service, I opened the pack expecting to be able to catch up on the backlog of tasks awaiting print. Alas, I had ordered the wrong tanks - the numbers are so very much alike and the containers so very different. Now the reason I mention this is because I have made the same mistake before. This is a cause for concern as I rarely make the same mistake more than once. Now i have to send the package back and re-order. Such a hassle, but at least it is a mistake which is not important and one that can be made good.

Yesterday was pretty good too. I received an email from my young friend, the one with the amazing musical talent. She sent me a recording of another Leonard Cohen song - "If it be your will." I had sent her a cover recording by Jann Arden, so she decided to record her own version and it is delightful. She has a terrific voice as well as an ability to get inside a song and make it her own. If there are any readers out there, I do recommend her recordings on You tube. Just search for Hallelujah My Version, and you will find her at the top of the list.

It's raining again and blowing a gale. The Cowes week weather was excellent so I guess that was our summer. At least when it's like this, I don't feel guilty about staying in my office all day. At least here I can think and write down my thoughts, for what they are worth. That reminds me, I must get on with the story; maybe later today if the mood takes me.

On the gardening front, I have lost all my tomato plants due to a severe fungal attack, the chillis are abundant and thriving, and I am harvesting fresh figs, which though not abundant, are delicious. The french beans have been good and the experiment of growing lettuce in pots seems to have worked well.

That's enough for now-I will package the ink tanks and send them back. Would that other things were so simple.

Resting

Such excitement is hard to contain

I sat out under the stars last night, hoping to witness the meteor shower known as the Pleiades. This is an annual disappointment as mostly when the "shower" is at its peak, the sky is overcast, or it rains or both. Last night the sky was clear and I sat in a garden chair and watched the northern sky, hoping against hope to be entertained.

Meteors are fragments of comets and the like, often no bigger than a grain of sand, that plough into the atmosphere, where friction causes them to burn up in milliseconds. As they burn they show up in the night sky like transient fireflies. If you are not looking at the right place in the firmament, all you perceive is a flash in the corner of they eye. The Pleiades come around every year and have done for centuries.

As I waited, my mind churned over all the usual mess that it contains, but there is something so timeless about the night sky that seems to make everything seem so trivial and unimportant. My own personal universe is by comparison, pathetically uninteresting and insignificant. Nothing that I do or say can ever have any lasting effect, and my passing will go unnoticed and unrecorded, just like the 15 meteors that I saw before boredom set in, and I went to bed. I guess that if I am still here next year, I will once again gaze hopefully.

Thinking

To be, or not

I am thinking about shaving my head. Now there is an interesting thought, for me anyway. I am trying to think of reasons why I shoudn't.

I don't know why I wrote that, I suppose it was the first thing that sprang to mind and, like most days, i have no preconceived idea as to where this is going. For me the blog is like my normal day. I don't often plan anything, it simply rambles on and finds its own conclusion.

It's Cowes week, but that too is drawing to a close. The town is full of people, all there for their own reasons, some for sailing and others for various nefarious purposes, but many for just a family day out or to enjoy all day drinking in the sunshine. We had the pleasure of armed police the other day, the reason being that the Israeli Ambassador was in town. I shudder to think of the consequences of machine gun fire in the tiny and crowded streets.

There are representatives from all over the world, and for once it feels like a multicultural society. Money is flowing in a torrent from the punters pockets into the tills of the town, and the local traders are smiling from ear to ear. It is after all the one week when they can make enough to see them through all those winter monday mornings.

I like Cowes week, though a lot of people that I know don't. They even go so far as to go on holiday until sanity returns, and some even rent out their houses for 4 figure sums. These are family homes, not second or third properties, and so it may be a case of camping out somewhere or going to stay with Mum. It's all part of the grey economy assocaited with big festivals.

It's a great time for photography, and watching people of all shapes and sizes doing all sorts of things. I was accosted by a sailor yesterday who mistook me for press. He wanted to sell me some photos that he had taken of a Yacht losing its mast. Now, I can think of some interesting situations that might have tempted me a little, but broken masts are everyday events, and like this ambling nonsense, not at all interesting. I still don't know why he mistook me for a newspaper man. Maybe I should shave my head, but then I might get mistaken for Patrick Stewart - I should be so lucky!!!!

Wednesday