Caravan life was basic and I guess that my own enthusiasm for it was not necessarily shared. It wasn't much fun in the depths of winter, making visits to the outdoor toilet. It wasn't a lot of fun finding mildew on clothes, and oddly it never happened to mine.
It wasn't fun finding that the cats had left dead mice in the bed either, but those were probably the worst things.
It was nice to be woken by birdsong or by the same animals running over the metal roof, and it was lovely in early summer to be able to eat fresh fish almost daily.
We bought our first car that year - it was a fiat 500 and it cost 300 pounds. A tank full of petrol was about 3 pounds and it lasted a fortnight. The car was a necessity as the caravan was a good ten miles from the school. I took and passed my driving test in that little car and impressed the examiner with my double declutching that was essential when changing down. It took us many miles, mainly below 50mph but it was a freedom of sorts.
Ted's daughter, Samantha, has Down's syndrome, and we got to know her very well. She was, and still is a loving and caring human being and I always felt quite priviledged to have met her. While we were there in Ted's little corner of paradise, we always felt so welcome and like members of the family. Ted was a perfect gentleman and a great friend.
He would allow me to take the boat out by myself now and then, and I can recall balmy summer's days drifting alone on the tide and being so very content.
Eventually however it was time to move on and although I never felt that we could afford it, we bought our first house, a tiny terraced house back in the town, and that was to be home for the next five years.
Wednesday, 20 February 2008
Tuesday, 19 February 2008
caravan1
It's a bright and sunny day and I am sitting at my desk, listening to Monteverdi and staring at my screen wondering what is going to emerge from my mind today. I don't suppose it matters much at the end of the day, all this is so ephemeral and one day all will be lost in the scrapyard of hard drives and servers that is building up with every passing day.
I guess I could talk about the caravan year. Bear in mind that all I write is unprepared and only comes from one viewpoint. The move to the caravan took place because we were newly married and didn't think it was appropriate to continue living in a bachelor house. A work colleague lived out in the countryside, near to the beach and had a caravan in his garden that we could rent for five pounds a week. I jumped at the chance and for me that year was quite wonderful. It was small, and basic but it was home for a year. The accommodation was made up of a small bedroom, subject to mildew, a tiny kitchen, and a small lounge heated by a small solid fuel burner. Without it the place was freezing and with it on we roasted. For all its issues, it was home for a while.
Ted, our landlord, gave us the use of his bathroom and there was an outdoor toilet for middle of the night emergencies. He also had a boat.
Ted's boat was a 10 ft plywood dinghy with a small outboard motor that he had found somewhere buried in the garden. It was never the easiest of things to start and there were times when i thought that it never would. I have to say at this point that i am lucky to still be here. (I think) In Ted's boat, we would venture out to sea, mainly at night, in order to fish. Now i am not a small man, Ted was then a good 18 stone, that's 250 pounds American/Canadian, and we went out with no life jackets, no flares, no lights and no thoughts whatever about personal safety. To make matters worse, Ted had no real appreciation of maritime rules and regulations, and to us, navigation buoys were there to tie up to.
During Cowes week, probably the world's most famous sailing event, we tied up to a buoy as was our habit and started fishing in the glorious sunshine, admiring the boats with their coloured spinnakers, heading in our direction. We hadn't any way of knowing that we had tied up to a mark and that in a few minutes, millions of pounds of expensive plastic and metal would come hurtling around the buoy. Our presence had not gone un-noticed as we had effectively extended the mark by a good 50 ft, and they ere all obliged, the whole fleet that is, to go around us. I learned words that day that i had never heard before, and I cowered in terror in our tiny floating pile of wood as the last of them hurtled round and vanished.
Then there was the night that we went out much further. Well it was a clear night and very calm. This time Captain Ted took us out to a buoy called Peel Bank. The water here was deep and fast flowing. No anchor would hold us and so of course we tied up to the buoy. It was a perfect night and we were even visited by a passing seal. That night, just as we were settled into the fishing, I at the front of the boat facing down tide and Ted seated at the aft end next to the outboard and over the spare petrol tank, cigarette in mouth as always, when we were treated to a rare sight. The QE2 came into Southampton and at the same time, the France came out. An there we were on the very edge of the busiest shipping lane in the country, in a tiny boat.
I saw the bow wave coming . It looked like a new horizon, growing from the old one. Because of Ted's weight, there were two inches of wood above the waterline at his end, and when I pointed out what was coming our way, he shot towards the front end and we sat side by side facing the oncoming tsunami.
There are always a number of bow waves and the first one picked us up and slammed us into the buoy. So did the second and the third. The boat did not break up and neither did we take in water. Had we done so, no-one would have noticed and we'd have drowned there and then, never to be seen again. Maybe we were - and perhaps this is another life that I am living.
I guess I could talk about the caravan year. Bear in mind that all I write is unprepared and only comes from one viewpoint. The move to the caravan took place because we were newly married and didn't think it was appropriate to continue living in a bachelor house. A work colleague lived out in the countryside, near to the beach and had a caravan in his garden that we could rent for five pounds a week. I jumped at the chance and for me that year was quite wonderful. It was small, and basic but it was home for a year. The accommodation was made up of a small bedroom, subject to mildew, a tiny kitchen, and a small lounge heated by a small solid fuel burner. Without it the place was freezing and with it on we roasted. For all its issues, it was home for a while.
Ted, our landlord, gave us the use of his bathroom and there was an outdoor toilet for middle of the night emergencies. He also had a boat.
Ted's boat was a 10 ft plywood dinghy with a small outboard motor that he had found somewhere buried in the garden. It was never the easiest of things to start and there were times when i thought that it never would. I have to say at this point that i am lucky to still be here. (I think) In Ted's boat, we would venture out to sea, mainly at night, in order to fish. Now i am not a small man, Ted was then a good 18 stone, that's 250 pounds American/Canadian, and we went out with no life jackets, no flares, no lights and no thoughts whatever about personal safety. To make matters worse, Ted had no real appreciation of maritime rules and regulations, and to us, navigation buoys were there to tie up to.
During Cowes week, probably the world's most famous sailing event, we tied up to a buoy as was our habit and started fishing in the glorious sunshine, admiring the boats with their coloured spinnakers, heading in our direction. We hadn't any way of knowing that we had tied up to a mark and that in a few minutes, millions of pounds of expensive plastic and metal would come hurtling around the buoy. Our presence had not gone un-noticed as we had effectively extended the mark by a good 50 ft, and they ere all obliged, the whole fleet that is, to go around us. I learned words that day that i had never heard before, and I cowered in terror in our tiny floating pile of wood as the last of them hurtled round and vanished.
Then there was the night that we went out much further. Well it was a clear night and very calm. This time Captain Ted took us out to a buoy called Peel Bank. The water here was deep and fast flowing. No anchor would hold us and so of course we tied up to the buoy. It was a perfect night and we were even visited by a passing seal. That night, just as we were settled into the fishing, I at the front of the boat facing down tide and Ted seated at the aft end next to the outboard and over the spare petrol tank, cigarette in mouth as always, when we were treated to a rare sight. The QE2 came into Southampton and at the same time, the France came out. An there we were on the very edge of the busiest shipping lane in the country, in a tiny boat.
I saw the bow wave coming . It looked like a new horizon, growing from the old one. Because of Ted's weight, there were two inches of wood above the waterline at his end, and when I pointed out what was coming our way, he shot towards the front end and we sat side by side facing the oncoming tsunami.
There are always a number of bow waves and the first one picked us up and slammed us into the buoy. So did the second and the third. The boat did not break up and neither did we take in water. Had we done so, no-one would have noticed and we'd have drowned there and then, never to be seen again. Maybe we were - and perhaps this is another life that I am living.
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
ब्ज्ज्ज्ज्ज्ज्ज़
Mosquito, is a device employed by shopkeepers and the like, throughout the country. It is a sound generator that produces high pitched noise that is undetectable to old fogies like me, but is unpleasant and highly irritating to children and teenagers, as their thresholds of audibility are so much higher than ours.
The idea is that if you have one of these in or near your premises, that kids will not want to linger there and make general nuisances of themselves.
This is becoming a bone of contention, with civil liberty groups claiming that it is a major infringement on the rights of children. Others have said how disgraceful it is to be using a sonic weapon against our children.
Now i can see both sides of this argument. I agree that it seems discriminatory and that effectively it makes such areas, more or less no-go to young people. On the other hand, there are gangs of teens, who by their very presence are making other areas into no-go for virtually everyone else. Groups of hooded youths are intimidating for most people, as they are quite understandably seen as threats, and my hiding their faces, amplify the fear that some deliberately impose on their communities.
Many shopkeepers find that when these gangs collect outside their stores, no-one else will come anywhere near. So what are they to do? The police are more or less without power to deal with youths on the streets, and their parents have often no control, or worse, no knowledge of what the kids are up to. Anyone even approaching these clusters of young people is risking verbal and even physical abuse, and so most adults have abdicated any responsibility for their behaviour.
The gang culture is growing again, but now against a background of untouchability. Adults won't confront them, the police won't or can't do anything and the kids know this. The lines that we grew up with have slowly been erased by those whose blinkered approach to human rights, have and continue to, erode the rights of everyone else.
A shopping centre found that by playing Mozart through a PA system helped to move the gangs away, but eben this was seen by some do-gooders to be an infringement of someone's rights.
Yes in a civilised country, there should be basic human rights. To drink clean water, to afford to eat, to have shelter and security at home, and to feel safe. Unfortunately, now everyone wants everything that they can see others enjoying, but without having to go through the process of earning it. Everyone expects that the world owes them something, because they have been told that they have "rights". Unfortunately t hey have not been told that they also have responsibilities, and that those responsibilities include granting the same basic rights to their fellow citizens.
It is time that our society grew up and maybe enforced some of the basic laws that apply to adults, but seem to not apply to the youths. Maybe if the police spent less time bleeding money from motorists and more time on the streets where the new waves of criminals are at work, that things might improve.
Many think that the kids only cluster the way they do because they have nothing else to do! That is rubbish, they cluster because they want to and because they are allowed to and because they have power in numbers. There is far more for kids to do now than there ever has been, and it is only a minority that make others lives a misery. The only thing that is lacking is enforcable rules.
The idea is that if you have one of these in or near your premises, that kids will not want to linger there and make general nuisances of themselves.
This is becoming a bone of contention, with civil liberty groups claiming that it is a major infringement on the rights of children. Others have said how disgraceful it is to be using a sonic weapon against our children.
Now i can see both sides of this argument. I agree that it seems discriminatory and that effectively it makes such areas, more or less no-go to young people. On the other hand, there are gangs of teens, who by their very presence are making other areas into no-go for virtually everyone else. Groups of hooded youths are intimidating for most people, as they are quite understandably seen as threats, and my hiding their faces, amplify the fear that some deliberately impose on their communities.
Many shopkeepers find that when these gangs collect outside their stores, no-one else will come anywhere near. So what are they to do? The police are more or less without power to deal with youths on the streets, and their parents have often no control, or worse, no knowledge of what the kids are up to. Anyone even approaching these clusters of young people is risking verbal and even physical abuse, and so most adults have abdicated any responsibility for their behaviour.
The gang culture is growing again, but now against a background of untouchability. Adults won't confront them, the police won't or can't do anything and the kids know this. The lines that we grew up with have slowly been erased by those whose blinkered approach to human rights, have and continue to, erode the rights of everyone else.
A shopping centre found that by playing Mozart through a PA system helped to move the gangs away, but eben this was seen by some do-gooders to be an infringement of someone's rights.
Yes in a civilised country, there should be basic human rights. To drink clean water, to afford to eat, to have shelter and security at home, and to feel safe. Unfortunately, now everyone wants everything that they can see others enjoying, but without having to go through the process of earning it. Everyone expects that the world owes them something, because they have been told that they have "rights". Unfortunately t hey have not been told that they also have responsibilities, and that those responsibilities include granting the same basic rights to their fellow citizens.
It is time that our society grew up and maybe enforced some of the basic laws that apply to adults, but seem to not apply to the youths. Maybe if the police spent less time bleeding money from motorists and more time on the streets where the new waves of criminals are at work, that things might improve.
Many think that the kids only cluster the way they do because they have nothing else to do! That is rubbish, they cluster because they want to and because they are allowed to and because they have power in numbers. There is far more for kids to do now than there ever has been, and it is only a minority that make others lives a misery. The only thing that is lacking is enforcable rules.
Monday, 11 February 2008
Fatwas
Well another day of bright sunshine and unseasonable temperatures here. Frogs are spawning, daffodils are out and much of the natural world thinks that is is spring. Next week it is just as likely to snow as anything else, we know that our climate has a great way of biting your arse when you are not looking.
For those who expect me to rant about the Archbishop and his pronouncements on Sharia Law, I am not going to disappoint you.
I did go to the trouble of finding out a little bit about what he said and something about Sharia law too, and although what he said is probably horribly near the truth, one cannot help feeling that he should have kept his mouth shut.
In a time when the population in general is sick to death of the strife generated in the name of Islam, his speech will do nothing to engender more understanding between the two communities. If anything what he has done is to add fuel to the racism and bigotry that grows with the National Front and the British National party.
Sharia Law has a very bad press, and that to some extent is justified. It was Sharia law that was used to issue a Fatwa against Salman Rushdie, just for publishing a book which he used to express his rational criticism of Islam. In theory at least he is still condemned to death for expressing an opinion. In theory, should a Muslim see the light and decide to leave Islam, that too is punishable by death.
Though i can see that there are cultural problems that may be better sorted by some alternative means, there is no justification for having two sets of laws within this country, just because one , albeit a growing, section of the community sees British law as irrelevant to them. We already have a group within the country - they are called criminals and some of them are in prison because they don't agree with the laws of the land. To even suggest that Sharia law should be embraced within our own legal system will be anathema to the majority of the population, who would rather that those who wish to be ruled this way, should go to a country like Afghanistan, where Sharia Rules OK!
Any steps in that direction here is a backward step towards a mediaeval suppression of women and men and does nothing to encourage the assimilation of many wonderful people into our society.
So having got that out of the way, i can return to the greenhouse and try to get mack in, all the things that i took out this morning prior to giving it a good clean.
For those who expect me to rant about the Archbishop and his pronouncements on Sharia Law, I am not going to disappoint you.
I did go to the trouble of finding out a little bit about what he said and something about Sharia law too, and although what he said is probably horribly near the truth, one cannot help feeling that he should have kept his mouth shut.
In a time when the population in general is sick to death of the strife generated in the name of Islam, his speech will do nothing to engender more understanding between the two communities. If anything what he has done is to add fuel to the racism and bigotry that grows with the National Front and the British National party.
Sharia Law has a very bad press, and that to some extent is justified. It was Sharia law that was used to issue a Fatwa against Salman Rushdie, just for publishing a book which he used to express his rational criticism of Islam. In theory at least he is still condemned to death for expressing an opinion. In theory, should a Muslim see the light and decide to leave Islam, that too is punishable by death.
Though i can see that there are cultural problems that may be better sorted by some alternative means, there is no justification for having two sets of laws within this country, just because one , albeit a growing, section of the community sees British law as irrelevant to them. We already have a group within the country - they are called criminals and some of them are in prison because they don't agree with the laws of the land. To even suggest that Sharia law should be embraced within our own legal system will be anathema to the majority of the population, who would rather that those who wish to be ruled this way, should go to a country like Afghanistan, where Sharia Rules OK!
Any steps in that direction here is a backward step towards a mediaeval suppression of women and men and does nothing to encourage the assimilation of many wonderful people into our society.
So having got that out of the way, i can return to the greenhouse and try to get mack in, all the things that i took out this morning prior to giving it a good clean.
Saturday, 9 February 2008
China
I have an apology to make. In a recent blog I complained about a DNA, and wittered about responsibility etc etc. I have just remembered that the student involved is away on a holiday. He had in fact told me but I had failed to write it down and hence forgot.
My memory is getting worse i know, probably too much wine blended with too many years. I can remember things if I really make an effort but sometimes things just pass me by.
Anyway there it is - i am sorry and will make sure next time that I have at least some of the facts right.
I made a resolution today. Never to buy anything that is made in China. Never ever again. I spent this morning trying toassemble a dining suite for a friend. It is smart and stylish and came in flat packs. The table looks lovely and when we find the legs for it I am sure that it will suit him down to the ground. As it is, down to the ground right now, it is pretty useless.
It came with six chairs - also flatpacked in some Bejing sweatshop. I spent at least an hour and a half attempting to assemble the parts into a sturdy dining chair. Note - One .....king chair. The last nut, integral to the whole thing would not go in. My fingers are so sore from trying to bend the chair to accommodate that last piece. It would have been so good if all the holes had been drilled to the right tolerances and in the right places, but that would have required the engineering skills that China seems to be missing.
They seem very good at copying western designs, and making replicas so much cheaper that can be done over here. Unfortunately it may be cheap but on the whole it seems to be turning out to quite nasty too.
My fingers hurt and there are still four chairs yet to build. He can wait!
My memory is getting worse i know, probably too much wine blended with too many years. I can remember things if I really make an effort but sometimes things just pass me by.
Anyway there it is - i am sorry and will make sure next time that I have at least some of the facts right.
I made a resolution today. Never to buy anything that is made in China. Never ever again. I spent this morning trying toassemble a dining suite for a friend. It is smart and stylish and came in flat packs. The table looks lovely and when we find the legs for it I am sure that it will suit him down to the ground. As it is, down to the ground right now, it is pretty useless.
It came with six chairs - also flatpacked in some Bejing sweatshop. I spent at least an hour and a half attempting to assemble the parts into a sturdy dining chair. Note - One .....king chair. The last nut, integral to the whole thing would not go in. My fingers are so sore from trying to bend the chair to accommodate that last piece. It would have been so good if all the holes had been drilled to the right tolerances and in the right places, but that would have required the engineering skills that China seems to be missing.
They seem very good at copying western designs, and making replicas so much cheaper that can be done over here. Unfortunately it may be cheap but on the whole it seems to be turning out to quite nasty too.
My fingers hurt and there are still four chairs yet to build. He can wait!
Thursday, 7 February 2008
ऑफ़ Mice
Princes street was a much more satisfactory living space than the bedsit in Alton ever was. Apart from anything else, i did not spend every evening alone hoping that it didn't rain, and every night worrying that I would oversleep.
The job too was more rewarding, though in those days the money was still pretty awful.
I arrived at the High school for my first term, the day before the kids arrived. This was a tradition that was retained throughout my career. THis time I knew a number of members of staff and some of the kids already as I had been to the school on a teaching practice two years before, so it felt like coming home. I was expecting to become part of the main school but found that my "lab" was to be an old Nissen Hut, dating from the last war, and that is was situated as far from the main buildings as possible.
The old green painted metal building had been kitted out as a basic laboratory with old desks and chairs that no-one else wanted. I had a small budget for improving equipment and was left more or less to my own devices - yet again. So my second year in the job was spent in near isolation.
Ok I went and joined the others at tea breaks and lunch, as long as it wasn't raining, but by and large I had my own little empire and should anyone important decide to visit, it was easy to see them coming.
I started to keep animals there, Locusts in cages, Mice and even cockroaches. That was fine until one monday morning I came in and found the mouse cages open and bits of mice all over the place. Rats had got in and eaten most of the livestock. The rest had escaped and would thereafter be seen scuttling over the benches or over the floor from time to time.
I never felt the same about the place after that. I loathe rats.
During that time, I established a gardening club at lunchtimes, a drama group, and began taking kids on walking holidays, staying in Youth Hostels. All of this stemming from my youth club days and remembering how such things had changed my life. It just felt so natural to give something back. Goodness knows how I found the time, but I, and others too, did find the time to make school a little more than a tedious curriculum.
That year we got married and moved out of Princes street into a caravan in a colleagues garden. Therein lies another tale.
The job too was more rewarding, though in those days the money was still pretty awful.
I arrived at the High school for my first term, the day before the kids arrived. This was a tradition that was retained throughout my career. THis time I knew a number of members of staff and some of the kids already as I had been to the school on a teaching practice two years before, so it felt like coming home. I was expecting to become part of the main school but found that my "lab" was to be an old Nissen Hut, dating from the last war, and that is was situated as far from the main buildings as possible.
The old green painted metal building had been kitted out as a basic laboratory with old desks and chairs that no-one else wanted. I had a small budget for improving equipment and was left more or less to my own devices - yet again. So my second year in the job was spent in near isolation.
Ok I went and joined the others at tea breaks and lunch, as long as it wasn't raining, but by and large I had my own little empire and should anyone important decide to visit, it was easy to see them coming.
I started to keep animals there, Locusts in cages, Mice and even cockroaches. That was fine until one monday morning I came in and found the mouse cages open and bits of mice all over the place. Rats had got in and eaten most of the livestock. The rest had escaped and would thereafter be seen scuttling over the benches or over the floor from time to time.
I never felt the same about the place after that. I loathe rats.
During that time, I established a gardening club at lunchtimes, a drama group, and began taking kids on walking holidays, staying in Youth Hostels. All of this stemming from my youth club days and remembering how such things had changed my life. It just felt so natural to give something back. Goodness knows how I found the time, but I, and others too, did find the time to make school a little more than a tedious curriculum.
That year we got married and moved out of Princes street into a caravan in a colleagues garden. Therein lies another tale.
Tuesday, 5 February 2008
politeness
For the first time ever, a student failed to turn up today. No phone call, no email, nothing. As it happens, I was not particularly bothered and had other things to do, but the principle is important. DNAs as the hospital calls them are a pain in the arse, as they have booked time that could easily be filled attending to the needs of someone else.
I am a very punctual person. i was dragged up to believe that impunctuality was rude and inconsiderate, and gave out the message that your own time is more important than someone else's. So many people today are very inconsiderate of others and live within their own little worlds believing that the whole universe revolves around them.
I suppose that it is the current trend to give kids a sense of their own worth, and that is truly a great change since my school days. Self worth is extremely valuable and essential for healthy lives. The problem is that so many kids are overvalued and have no sense of their place in society. We on the other hand were made to feel worthless and put very firmly into our places at every possible opportunity.
There has to be a middle ground and all of us need to be reminded that we are just tiny parts in a big picture. Our role within that picture may change, but the picture is not about any individual, and no-one has the right to imagine that it does. We all have rights, or so we are led to believe, but those rights are only there while others allow them to be so. We all have responsibilities too, and that is what seems to be forgotten. The world owes none of us a thing, and what we get out of this life is very much dependent upon what we are prepared to put in.
I long ago stopped blaming others for my problems. I am in control of myself and whatever is wrong in my life is my responsibility and mine alone.
My student may come back next week and it will be interesting to see if he has anything to say. I won't mention his non
attendance of course because to do so would be highlighting a failure, and that in modern educational terms is really not good practice.
I am a very punctual person. i was dragged up to believe that impunctuality was rude and inconsiderate, and gave out the message that your own time is more important than someone else's. So many people today are very inconsiderate of others and live within their own little worlds believing that the whole universe revolves around them.
I suppose that it is the current trend to give kids a sense of their own worth, and that is truly a great change since my school days. Self worth is extremely valuable and essential for healthy lives. The problem is that so many kids are overvalued and have no sense of their place in society. We on the other hand were made to feel worthless and put very firmly into our places at every possible opportunity.
There has to be a middle ground and all of us need to be reminded that we are just tiny parts in a big picture. Our role within that picture may change, but the picture is not about any individual, and no-one has the right to imagine that it does. We all have rights, or so we are led to believe, but those rights are only there while others allow them to be so. We all have responsibilities too, and that is what seems to be forgotten. The world owes none of us a thing, and what we get out of this life is very much dependent upon what we are prepared to put in.
I long ago stopped blaming others for my problems. I am in control of myself and whatever is wrong in my life is my responsibility and mine alone.
My student may come back next week and it will be interesting to see if he has anything to say. I won't mention his non
attendance of course because to do so would be highlighting a failure, and that in modern educational terms is really not good practice.
Monday, 4 February 2008
music
I guess that I am not alone in my tendency to drift away into the past. Even in cases of dementia, it is the oldest memories that tend to be the last to go, and I can understand why many people drift into that personal sea, where they can be safe and alone, wrapped in a rose tinted version of their own history.
Music does it for me. There are so many songs or snatches of music that instantly transport me to a long lost location in time and space. Though it is impossible to reach the actual co-ordinates, it sometimes feels as if I really go back. For that reason there are some songs that I find hard to play and will generally do so only when I am drunk!
Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues, takes me to my room in College, which for a while i shared with Chris. Chris was a PE student, and although we shouldn't stereotype them, he lived up to the part. He was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was a nice enough guy. Chris had two things that I lacked. A record player and money. The problem was that he only had one record, and that was "Days of future passed" by the Moody BLues. He'd play this, day and night, over and over again. I suppose we both must have tired of it eventually.
Chris was the most naiive person i ever met. I recall the way that he was persuaded to sell pound notes for nineteen shillings and sixpence because someone told him that the devaluation of the pound made his money worth so much less.
Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love, from their second album also takes me back to college, and this time to a later date when I actually did have a record player. There were two of os who owned this disc and rather than compete, we'd try hard to synchronise the players so that Robert Plant would be heard from both ends of the corridor in some weird stereo. Alas, my player was slower than his and any synchrony was very brief.
Samuel Barber's Adagio for strings, is forever glued to the funeral of my father. The immediate family returned to Mother's house after the ceremony. No-one else was invited! (How weird is that?) Mother decided to play some of his records, and that was the first. There were no tears - I didn't miss him and never have.
There are so many songs from the sixties that transport me back to adolescence and the youth clubs and dances where i would yearn for the beautiful girls and never be able to talk to them. The Rolling Stones, Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown, reminds me every time of a visit to the skating rink in Birmingham. There, all night I lusted after Jane, who looked so elegant and attractive as she hurled expertly around the ice. I on the other hand in my skin tight pale blue jeans, struggled around while holding on to the rail, feeling very foolish. She didn't even know that I existed.
Like a Rolling Stone, the original version is probably my favourite song of all. It conjures the days before life became complicated. The days when relationships were a thing of the future, when I'd look at girls as objects on a high shelf; there to admire and never to hold. I was on the edge of something very significant and being there had an excitement that is so hard to recapture.
The sixties were not all wonderful and life was hard by today's standards, but all I owned then could be fitted into a small suitcase and for whatever reason, i made choices that brought me here. With every step music came along as my companion, and as such it has many tales to tell.
Music does it for me. There are so many songs or snatches of music that instantly transport me to a long lost location in time and space. Though it is impossible to reach the actual co-ordinates, it sometimes feels as if I really go back. For that reason there are some songs that I find hard to play and will generally do so only when I am drunk!
Nights in White Satin by the Moody Blues, takes me to my room in College, which for a while i shared with Chris. Chris was a PE student, and although we shouldn't stereotype them, he lived up to the part. He was never the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was a nice enough guy. Chris had two things that I lacked. A record player and money. The problem was that he only had one record, and that was "Days of future passed" by the Moody BLues. He'd play this, day and night, over and over again. I suppose we both must have tired of it eventually.
Chris was the most naiive person i ever met. I recall the way that he was persuaded to sell pound notes for nineteen shillings and sixpence because someone told him that the devaluation of the pound made his money worth so much less.
Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love, from their second album also takes me back to college, and this time to a later date when I actually did have a record player. There were two of os who owned this disc and rather than compete, we'd try hard to synchronise the players so that Robert Plant would be heard from both ends of the corridor in some weird stereo. Alas, my player was slower than his and any synchrony was very brief.
Samuel Barber's Adagio for strings, is forever glued to the funeral of my father. The immediate family returned to Mother's house after the ceremony. No-one else was invited! (How weird is that?) Mother decided to play some of his records, and that was the first. There were no tears - I didn't miss him and never have.
There are so many songs from the sixties that transport me back to adolescence and the youth clubs and dances where i would yearn for the beautiful girls and never be able to talk to them. The Rolling Stones, Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown, reminds me every time of a visit to the skating rink in Birmingham. There, all night I lusted after Jane, who looked so elegant and attractive as she hurled expertly around the ice. I on the other hand in my skin tight pale blue jeans, struggled around while holding on to the rail, feeling very foolish. She didn't even know that I existed.
Like a Rolling Stone, the original version is probably my favourite song of all. It conjures the days before life became complicated. The days when relationships were a thing of the future, when I'd look at girls as objects on a high shelf; there to admire and never to hold. I was on the edge of something very significant and being there had an excitement that is so hard to recapture.
The sixties were not all wonderful and life was hard by today's standards, but all I owned then could be fitted into a small suitcase and for whatever reason, i made choices that brought me here. With every step music came along as my companion, and as such it has many tales to tell.
Thursday, 31 January 2008
Either I am bored or I have a real bout of verbal squits today. I seem to just write, either emails or blogs and the flow has yet to be staunched.
Ok back to 1971 and the transition from Alton to the Island. Oddly I have no recollection of that summer except that I moved into Princes street, where i was to share a small terraced house with John initially, and later Keith was to join us. It was good to have a little more space and it wasn't far from the school, so I had no need for a car. Just as well really as I had, despite DI's best efforts, so far failed to pass a driving test.
The neighbours were elderly folk who really were not quite prepared for what they were about to receive. However they were very kind and helpful, and saw us as boys of their own. Apart from being a clean and tidy place, we were both quite domesticated, the house was ideal for parties, and Princes street parties became legendary... tbc
Ok back to 1971 and the transition from Alton to the Island. Oddly I have no recollection of that summer except that I moved into Princes street, where i was to share a small terraced house with John initially, and later Keith was to join us. It was good to have a little more space and it wasn't far from the school, so I had no need for a car. Just as well really as I had, despite DI's best efforts, so far failed to pass a driving test.
The neighbours were elderly folk who really were not quite prepared for what they were about to receive. However they were very kind and helpful, and saw us as boys of their own. Apart from being a clean and tidy place, we were both quite domesticated, the house was ideal for parties, and Princes street parties became legendary... tbc
meetings
I should be in a meeting right now. It is at the community club, literally within spitting distance along the road. I am hiding and refusing to attend. When I left work, I decided that never again would i mark students work, and never again would i attend pointless, bureaucratic meetings.
I really hate any meeting that involves more than 4 people. I choose four as a fairly arbitrary number, but fundamentally, as each person has an opinion, to which they are entitled, but the trouble is, that they all want to express it! I have been in meetings with twelve people with at least 15 opinions and discussions become meaningless, pointless and so fricking frustrating. All that ever came out of such gatherings was more work, and copious minutes that no-one ever read.
The most productive meetings involve the least people. I find that discussions with myself yield amazing results.
Oh well, by now it should be over, so i think I will wander round and find out what they have decided they want me to do.
I really hate any meeting that involves more than 4 people. I choose four as a fairly arbitrary number, but fundamentally, as each person has an opinion, to which they are entitled, but the trouble is, that they all want to express it! I have been in meetings with twelve people with at least 15 opinions and discussions become meaningless, pointless and so fricking frustrating. All that ever came out of such gatherings was more work, and copious minutes that no-one ever read.
The most productive meetings involve the least people. I find that discussions with myself yield amazing results.
Oh well, by now it should be over, so i think I will wander round and find out what they have decided they want me to do.
Yuk
I am drinking a cup of coffee after having been to a friend's house, to disconnect his washing machine. He is moving tomorrow and as he is partially sighted, he couldn't see the washing machine let alone the plumbing. I feel a bit guilty for writing this but it won't stop me. Once i begin, I just can't seem to stop myself.
I had to come home quickly and wash my hands, I felt like i should have a hot bath, but as we don't have one, i couldn't. His house is, to say the least, filthy. While finding the electrical socket, i discovered that the kitchen cupboards are infested with mice, and the only reason I can imagine why there were not more of them is that half of the space is wet, and the rest, just unimaginably filthy. The carpet in the kitchen is probably designated as an area of Special Scientific Interest and i'd guess may have the makings of a wildlife sanctuary. It seems capable of independent movement and like pub carpets in days of old, it sticks to the feet.
The house smells so bad, I feel like retching every time I go in, and cannot wait to escape. It was not always thus, and it seems that as his sight has deteriorated, he has completely let go and abdicated any sort of responsibility for the care and attention of both the house and himself. It is so sad, and as i write this i feel guilty that I cannot do anything to help him. I know in my heart of hearts, that the now pristine house that he is moving into tomorrow will gradually go the same way, and I don't envy the lady who is letting the house. Equally i don't envy his ex wife who is later on this week, moving into the squalour that he will be leaving behind. I think the kindest thing would be to set fire to the place - it would certainly improve the smell.
I had to come home quickly and wash my hands, I felt like i should have a hot bath, but as we don't have one, i couldn't. His house is, to say the least, filthy. While finding the electrical socket, i discovered that the kitchen cupboards are infested with mice, and the only reason I can imagine why there were not more of them is that half of the space is wet, and the rest, just unimaginably filthy. The carpet in the kitchen is probably designated as an area of Special Scientific Interest and i'd guess may have the makings of a wildlife sanctuary. It seems capable of independent movement and like pub carpets in days of old, it sticks to the feet.
The house smells so bad, I feel like retching every time I go in, and cannot wait to escape. It was not always thus, and it seems that as his sight has deteriorated, he has completely let go and abdicated any sort of responsibility for the care and attention of both the house and himself. It is so sad, and as i write this i feel guilty that I cannot do anything to help him. I know in my heart of hearts, that the now pristine house that he is moving into tomorrow will gradually go the same way, and I don't envy the lady who is letting the house. Equally i don't envy his ex wife who is later on this week, moving into the squalour that he will be leaving behind. I think the kindest thing would be to set fire to the place - it would certainly improve the smell.
Monday, 28 January 2008
I have been trying to marshall some memories of that first year of teaching. I recall some of the faces of students and staff but few of the names. I remember my bedsit quite well. I was on the top floor and remember that when it rained, a large water filled blister used to appear on the ceiling. I remember that the kitchen was on a turn in the stairs and had to be shared with two other residents, but they rarely cooked. I remember that the bathroom was two flights down and that there were a couple who always went in there together.
I remember an incident when i was on playground duty. The building plan was quite complex and it was impossible to be or see everywhere. One day I became aware of a lot of kids running in the same direction. Oddly towards me! It became clear that they were running away from something or someone. I continued against the stream and before long came face to face with the cause!
The resident loony was after them, only this time, someone had gone too far. He had a piece of wood with a nail through it, and wanted very much to maim someone. Now some people would have reacted to this, but I didn't. Somehow everything seemed to slow down and I just stood in his pathway, holding my thin plastic cup of tea. He stopped, and when i asked him for the weapon, he obliged and simply walked away. I think it is what I expected him to do, but I could also have been very lucky.
Another outstanding incident was the day that there was a delivery of metal rods for the metalwork shop. My experienced colleague decided that he'd use this as an opportunity for some real maths. He got his group of lads to check the delivery against the invoice. So armed with measuring tapes the lads set to. When they were done, they excitedly told the teacher that they were short. There was a good metre missing. So he told the lads to take each of the rods in turn, to pull and stretch them and then to measure again. So these burly misfits were seen to take hold of these 1/4 inch steel rods and one on each end, give each one a hard pull.
This took them a good half hour and when they had finished, they remeasured, and of course this time their measurements agreed with the invoice. To this day those lads probably believe that they stretched that metal.
While i was there, i took a job as a Census Enumerator and that involved the issuing of census forms and their collection and checking. Never before had i realised the degree of inbreeding or the levels of illiteracy in the population. Such an eye opener.
I did enjoy my time at the school, but after a while the bedsit became intolerable, and as i could afford nothing else there, i decided it would be best to move on, so when a job came up on the Island, I took it and really I guess that was a big turning point in my life.
I remember an incident when i was on playground duty. The building plan was quite complex and it was impossible to be or see everywhere. One day I became aware of a lot of kids running in the same direction. Oddly towards me! It became clear that they were running away from something or someone. I continued against the stream and before long came face to face with the cause!
The resident loony was after them, only this time, someone had gone too far. He had a piece of wood with a nail through it, and wanted very much to maim someone. Now some people would have reacted to this, but I didn't. Somehow everything seemed to slow down and I just stood in his pathway, holding my thin plastic cup of tea. He stopped, and when i asked him for the weapon, he obliged and simply walked away. I think it is what I expected him to do, but I could also have been very lucky.
Another outstanding incident was the day that there was a delivery of metal rods for the metalwork shop. My experienced colleague decided that he'd use this as an opportunity for some real maths. He got his group of lads to check the delivery against the invoice. So armed with measuring tapes the lads set to. When they were done, they excitedly told the teacher that they were short. There was a good metre missing. So he told the lads to take each of the rods in turn, to pull and stretch them and then to measure again. So these burly misfits were seen to take hold of these 1/4 inch steel rods and one on each end, give each one a hard pull.
This took them a good half hour and when they had finished, they remeasured, and of course this time their measurements agreed with the invoice. To this day those lads probably believe that they stretched that metal.
While i was there, i took a job as a Census Enumerator and that involved the issuing of census forms and their collection and checking. Never before had i realised the degree of inbreeding or the levels of illiteracy in the population. Such an eye opener.
I did enjoy my time at the school, but after a while the bedsit became intolerable, and as i could afford nothing else there, i decided it would be best to move on, so when a job came up on the Island, I took it and really I guess that was a big turning point in my life.
Wednesday, 23 January 2008
vegetables
I am an atheist. I do try however, not to belittle or disrespect others for their religious beliefs, and would certainly never feel the need to go door to door trying to convince others that my viewpoint is the right one. I feel no need to check in with an imaginary friend before I do anything and certainly have no wish to seek out other atheists and have meetings in expensive buildings, in order to feel that I am living my life in the way that I should.
Vegetarianism seems to me to be a form of religion too. Have you noticed that, whenever a vegetarian comes to dinner, you have to provide a special vegetarian meal for them? What happens when you get invited back? Do they provide a non vegetarian dish for you? Like hell they do! Eating with vegetarians is like partaking in the last supper, and though I have nothing against vegetables, I have met many in my time, having some sort of choice is always nice, and having someone else's philosophy stuffed down my throat does not appeal much.
Some vegetarians are so self righteous, and have all sorts of reasons not to consume meat. I have yet to find one who does not wear leather shoes though.
Ok i can see the ecological point of eating vegetables. It takes a lot less land to provide vegetables than it does meat, and of course mass production of animals has become a very unsavoury business, with veal crates, battery hens, pigs that never see daylight and so on, not to mention the methane that cattle produce, adding to the greenhouse effect, but at the same time, where would we be without those animals. If we didn't eat them, they would not be there. Not many people want cows as pets, and fewer still a bull. The world would change significantly and there would be no need to keep green fields anymore. They would soon fill up with council estates, providing cheap homes for the fast breeding population and with all the pulses that they'd have to eat, farting would become an olympic event. We'd all be eating sawdust and tofu sausages with quorn based bacon. (That stuff is so revolting!)
Now i am sure that there are plenty of people out there who are closet vegetarians, and who do not conform to my own personal stereotype. I wish them well and would never try to feed them meat. Now i have written this, I don't suppose that they will be offering me vegetables either. At least I hope not!
Vegetarianism seems to me to be a form of religion too. Have you noticed that, whenever a vegetarian comes to dinner, you have to provide a special vegetarian meal for them? What happens when you get invited back? Do they provide a non vegetarian dish for you? Like hell they do! Eating with vegetarians is like partaking in the last supper, and though I have nothing against vegetables, I have met many in my time, having some sort of choice is always nice, and having someone else's philosophy stuffed down my throat does not appeal much.
Some vegetarians are so self righteous, and have all sorts of reasons not to consume meat. I have yet to find one who does not wear leather shoes though.
Ok i can see the ecological point of eating vegetables. It takes a lot less land to provide vegetables than it does meat, and of course mass production of animals has become a very unsavoury business, with veal crates, battery hens, pigs that never see daylight and so on, not to mention the methane that cattle produce, adding to the greenhouse effect, but at the same time, where would we be without those animals. If we didn't eat them, they would not be there. Not many people want cows as pets, and fewer still a bull. The world would change significantly and there would be no need to keep green fields anymore. They would soon fill up with council estates, providing cheap homes for the fast breeding population and with all the pulses that they'd have to eat, farting would become an olympic event. We'd all be eating sawdust and tofu sausages with quorn based bacon. (That stuff is so revolting!)
Now i am sure that there are plenty of people out there who are closet vegetarians, and who do not conform to my own personal stereotype. I wish them well and would never try to feed them meat. Now i have written this, I don't suppose that they will be offering me vegetables either. At least I hope not!
Monday, 21 January 2008
Alton2
So, there I was in my first ever full time job, responsible for a class of students and for the first time ever, responsible for myself too. No more would I have the luxury of a cleaner who not only cleaned my room and made my bed every day, but who also brought me morning tea. I often wonder what happened to her; I guess that she has long since passed away.
Now i had rent to pay, food to choose and cook, washing and ironing, as well as gruesome work like preparation and marking to do. One of the hardest things to do was getting up early every day and getting to work on time. It wasn't like college days when, if you didn't fancy going in, you could stay in bed. There were implications should you not get there on time. Only once was I late for work, and that isn't bad in 34 years. It was in my first year, there in Alton, and I awoke one morning at 11.30. I had no excuse at all, i just failed to wake up and that is that. I ambled in at lunchtime to meet the wrath of my colleagues who had had to cover for me and none of whom had any sympathy for me at all. I was chastened and that lesson stayed with me always.
I settled into a routine and made a few good friends. Caroline and Di were new teachers too, and they had a house some miles out of the town. Di also had a van - a green Austin A35 which she allowed me to drive from time to time - amazing really as i had not passed a driving test at the time. I learned quite a lot about driving then and am grateful to Di to this day for her trust and generosity.
The students at Alton were a mixed bunch really, most of whom were nice kids but most of whom had got all they were ever going to get from being in school. Our job was to contain them and probably entertain them for a year, so that they could eventually leave and become pillars of the community. I had to teach some Rural Science (gardening) of which I knew almost as little as they did, games, and Drama. Fundamentally it was all about bluff. I needed to convince them that I knew what I was doing, and it seemed to work. I must confess that I enjoyed the Drama lessons most of all. To say that they were structured and informed would be an exaggeration. To say that the kids learned much about drama would be a lie, but they did have a whale of a time.
Having got to know the students quite well and making sure that the psychopaths were not present that day. I decided to allow the group a little more freedom than usual, and split them into groups with the task of improvising small plays that would be performed later in front of the rest. They scattered to various parts of the old building in order to prepare, and I wandered around trying to locate them all and to offer words of encouragement or advice. I did find one group who seemed to be getting on ok. They were the misfits who had aggregated as misfits often do, but of the rest I could find no trace. They were quiet - too quiet and for a moment I believed that they may have absconded. However, before long I heard a cheer and applause. MIsguidedly I thought that they were really entering into the spirit of things, and so I followed the cheers which were coming from the old library.
I went in and sure enough they were all there standing around one of the old oak tables, and there, gyrating like experienced pole dancers, were two of the more "popular" girls doing a strip tease. Both were down to their underwear as i entered the room. I was almost speechless but did manage to overcome a moment of panic and broke up the party. The girls grabbed their clothing and vanished into the toilets to get dressed. That was the last free drama lesson they had.
That same year I learned many lessons. I am not a very scary person as those who know me will agree. One day I had a class of second year students, who had been bussed to the annexe for a science lesson. Second years were 12 yr olds and this class were fairly docile apart from one lad called Damian. (Cue scary music!) Damian didn't really have much awareness of where the line was and had crossed it far too many times that day, so i kept him back after the others had gone and decided to let rip at him. I didn't actually lose my temper but he thought that I had, and as I watched the blood drain from his face, I also became aware of a puddle forming on the floor beneath his feet. I was mortified and whatever anger I did feel was turned to pity in an instant. Poor lad had to go back to the main school on the bus with wet trousers. I never had to speak with him again after that day.
Now i had rent to pay, food to choose and cook, washing and ironing, as well as gruesome work like preparation and marking to do. One of the hardest things to do was getting up early every day and getting to work on time. It wasn't like college days when, if you didn't fancy going in, you could stay in bed. There were implications should you not get there on time. Only once was I late for work, and that isn't bad in 34 years. It was in my first year, there in Alton, and I awoke one morning at 11.30. I had no excuse at all, i just failed to wake up and that is that. I ambled in at lunchtime to meet the wrath of my colleagues who had had to cover for me and none of whom had any sympathy for me at all. I was chastened and that lesson stayed with me always.
I settled into a routine and made a few good friends. Caroline and Di were new teachers too, and they had a house some miles out of the town. Di also had a van - a green Austin A35 which she allowed me to drive from time to time - amazing really as i had not passed a driving test at the time. I learned quite a lot about driving then and am grateful to Di to this day for her trust and generosity.
The students at Alton were a mixed bunch really, most of whom were nice kids but most of whom had got all they were ever going to get from being in school. Our job was to contain them and probably entertain them for a year, so that they could eventually leave and become pillars of the community. I had to teach some Rural Science (gardening) of which I knew almost as little as they did, games, and Drama. Fundamentally it was all about bluff. I needed to convince them that I knew what I was doing, and it seemed to work. I must confess that I enjoyed the Drama lessons most of all. To say that they were structured and informed would be an exaggeration. To say that the kids learned much about drama would be a lie, but they did have a whale of a time.
Having got to know the students quite well and making sure that the psychopaths were not present that day. I decided to allow the group a little more freedom than usual, and split them into groups with the task of improvising small plays that would be performed later in front of the rest. They scattered to various parts of the old building in order to prepare, and I wandered around trying to locate them all and to offer words of encouragement or advice. I did find one group who seemed to be getting on ok. They were the misfits who had aggregated as misfits often do, but of the rest I could find no trace. They were quiet - too quiet and for a moment I believed that they may have absconded. However, before long I heard a cheer and applause. MIsguidedly I thought that they were really entering into the spirit of things, and so I followed the cheers which were coming from the old library.
I went in and sure enough they were all there standing around one of the old oak tables, and there, gyrating like experienced pole dancers, were two of the more "popular" girls doing a strip tease. Both were down to their underwear as i entered the room. I was almost speechless but did manage to overcome a moment of panic and broke up the party. The girls grabbed their clothing and vanished into the toilets to get dressed. That was the last free drama lesson they had.
That same year I learned many lessons. I am not a very scary person as those who know me will agree. One day I had a class of second year students, who had been bussed to the annexe for a science lesson. Second years were 12 yr olds and this class were fairly docile apart from one lad called Damian. (Cue scary music!) Damian didn't really have much awareness of where the line was and had crossed it far too many times that day, so i kept him back after the others had gone and decided to let rip at him. I didn't actually lose my temper but he thought that I had, and as I watched the blood drain from his face, I also became aware of a puddle forming on the floor beneath his feet. I was mortified and whatever anger I did feel was turned to pity in an instant. Poor lad had to go back to the main school on the bus with wet trousers. I never had to speak with him again after that day.
Wednesday, 16 January 2008
रेग्रेट्स
Last night, for no discernable reason, I got drunk!
The evening started normally with dinner and a glass of wine and then off went the brain and on came a movie. During which a friend called and was feeling a bit lost, so he joined in with a few more glasses of wine and when that had gone, out came the brandy and so the evening wore off.
We ended up watching Pink Floyd and stupidly listening to songs that I really should avoid at such times, however we all make mistakes and so the evening progressed. When said friend got up to go home, it was around 1 am and he fell over, twice before i got him out of the door and watched his meandering departure down the drive. He made it to the road safely, waved and vanished into the night. I guess I should have seen him home, but then he'd have had to see me back again so it was sensible to leave him to it.
I guess that I was celebrating the last day before my birthday, and although it shouldn't bother me any more, i still don't like birthdays. Each one seems like a stepping stone and one closer to a destination that I am not ready to reach.
Needless to say, today I am regretting yesterdays choices.
The evening started normally with dinner and a glass of wine and then off went the brain and on came a movie. During which a friend called and was feeling a bit lost, so he joined in with a few more glasses of wine and when that had gone, out came the brandy and so the evening wore off.
We ended up watching Pink Floyd and stupidly listening to songs that I really should avoid at such times, however we all make mistakes and so the evening progressed. When said friend got up to go home, it was around 1 am and he fell over, twice before i got him out of the door and watched his meandering departure down the drive. He made it to the road safely, waved and vanished into the night. I guess I should have seen him home, but then he'd have had to see me back again so it was sensible to leave him to it.
I guess that I was celebrating the last day before my birthday, and although it shouldn't bother me any more, i still don't like birthdays. Each one seems like a stepping stone and one closer to a destination that I am not ready to reach.
Needless to say, today I am regretting yesterdays choices.
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
changes
I have made a decision. This year, i am going to try much harder to be positive. It won't be easy for me, but I am going to make huge efforts to avoid blogging when my mind is in the dark places that I sometimes find myself. Although I feel that when i am there, in the slough of despond, my mind does seem more focussed and I can write more fluently, (some might say effluently!) I know that I can be very negative. I will try to put the bad things away and maybe my words will be easier to digest.
I have been trying to follow the political events in the USA, and watching the front runners in the Democrats struggle to elect a potential president. I don't know a Caucus from a telegraph pole, but have been intrigued by the antics of the two contenders battling it out and weakening themselves and each other in equal proportions. Like many people outside America, and also many people inside, I hope that the next presidential elections will see a return to a Democrat government, and a huge turn around in foreign policy as a result.
Recent events though give more concern for worry than for hope. In order for a Democrat to be elected president, America will have to choose between a Woman, and a Black man. I don't think that middle America is likely to be ready for either of those choices. The Bible belt must already be panicking and will be ready to vote for anything as long as it prevents the democrats from getting back in.
Personally, i believe that either Obama or Clinton would be a big improvement on what they have now, but at the same time, like Bush, whoever holds the keys to the white house will be a puppet of the vested interest administration, who are owned and driven by the big corporations. Changes may not be quite as drastic as we would all like them to be.
Change is sometimes harder than it appears to be, and in order for that to happen, an individual must really want it to. The same is true of peoples. I hope that the average American wants a change and sees the need for that.
I have been trying to follow the political events in the USA, and watching the front runners in the Democrats struggle to elect a potential president. I don't know a Caucus from a telegraph pole, but have been intrigued by the antics of the two contenders battling it out and weakening themselves and each other in equal proportions. Like many people outside America, and also many people inside, I hope that the next presidential elections will see a return to a Democrat government, and a huge turn around in foreign policy as a result.
Recent events though give more concern for worry than for hope. In order for a Democrat to be elected president, America will have to choose between a Woman, and a Black man. I don't think that middle America is likely to be ready for either of those choices. The Bible belt must already be panicking and will be ready to vote for anything as long as it prevents the democrats from getting back in.
Personally, i believe that either Obama or Clinton would be a big improvement on what they have now, but at the same time, like Bush, whoever holds the keys to the white house will be a puppet of the vested interest administration, who are owned and driven by the big corporations. Changes may not be quite as drastic as we would all like them to be.
Change is sometimes harder than it appears to be, and in order for that to happen, an individual must really want it to. The same is true of peoples. I hope that the average American wants a change and sees the need for that.
alton
So I found myself in Alton, a small market town in North Hampshire. Twenty one years old and just a suitcase for company. I thought that finding a room would be easy, after all, at college the rooms came by themselves and I hadn't even needed to look. Alton was different. Having arrived, I booked into a hotel for the night and left my suitcase there while I walked the streets looking for somewhere to stay. Term began in three days, so I was pretty desperate.
The first place I found was a room in a family house that was offered for a meagre sum of money. Calling it a room, was a bit of an exaggeration but it was cheaper than the hotel, and having found nothing else, agreed to take it on a day to day basis. I moved in the following day and found that there wasn't room for both myself and the suitcase. The room was as long as the bed and I was longer than both. The lady however was very kind and it was a place to sleep. After a long search, i did find a bedsitting room, above a photographers shop in the high street, and within 24 hours i had moved in to my new abode, where i was to live in semi squalour for the next year. It was an attic room with sloping ceilings, a leaky roof, a streetlight next to the window, and furniture that had seen better days a long time since. However it was home and I could begin my new career as a responsible classroom teacher.
The annexe to which I had been appointed was a good mile away from the main school and I arrived in plenty of time to meet my new colleagues and to be shown around. May I say at this point that in those days we were not interviewed by a school. Having finished college, we had applied to local Authorities and my only interview had been with hampshire county council. They had a list of vacancies and I was given a job at a school that I had never seen.
The annexe was a large victorian house and grounds, in which were prefabricated classrooms, gardens and tennis courts. The main house was largely out of use, but we did have a staffroom and a library of sorts. there were three of us in the full time team, and one or two others who popped in on a part time basis. This was the place where those about to leave school, with no qualifications, were to spend their last 12 months. Needless to say, they were not the most highly motivated students in the world. Most were nice kids from tough families and a few were just barking mad.
I now had a class of my own, for whom I was in some ways responsible. I learned quickly how to mark a register and all of the other little tasks that they never bother to teach you at college, and settled into a routine that I soon found was teaching me a lot more than i was teaching them.
The first place I found was a room in a family house that was offered for a meagre sum of money. Calling it a room, was a bit of an exaggeration but it was cheaper than the hotel, and having found nothing else, agreed to take it on a day to day basis. I moved in the following day and found that there wasn't room for both myself and the suitcase. The room was as long as the bed and I was longer than both. The lady however was very kind and it was a place to sleep. After a long search, i did find a bedsitting room, above a photographers shop in the high street, and within 24 hours i had moved in to my new abode, where i was to live in semi squalour for the next year. It was an attic room with sloping ceilings, a leaky roof, a streetlight next to the window, and furniture that had seen better days a long time since. However it was home and I could begin my new career as a responsible classroom teacher.
The annexe to which I had been appointed was a good mile away from the main school and I arrived in plenty of time to meet my new colleagues and to be shown around. May I say at this point that in those days we were not interviewed by a school. Having finished college, we had applied to local Authorities and my only interview had been with hampshire county council. They had a list of vacancies and I was given a job at a school that I had never seen.
The annexe was a large victorian house and grounds, in which were prefabricated classrooms, gardens and tennis courts. The main house was largely out of use, but we did have a staffroom and a library of sorts. there were three of us in the full time team, and one or two others who popped in on a part time basis. This was the place where those about to leave school, with no qualifications, were to spend their last 12 months. Needless to say, they were not the most highly motivated students in the world. Most were nice kids from tough families and a few were just barking mad.
I now had a class of my own, for whom I was in some ways responsible. I learned quickly how to mark a register and all of the other little tasks that they never bother to teach you at college, and settled into a routine that I soon found was teaching me a lot more than i was teaching them.
Monday, 14 January 2008
जोब्स
I keep promising myself that I will press on and finish the task that I set myself in this blog. That was to record the events of my life that I can recall, while omitting the most life changing ones, ie the relationships. It isn't easy to leave them out but I am trying. I would say that any relationship is a worthwhile experience, and that from each one we bring something and we take something. One thing that is clear to me is that I remember every one of them with a startling clarity, and perhaps that is why I choose not to write them down.
Mostly so far I have dwelled on the formative years of my life, and in them i include my college days. College was a place that i went hoping to grow up, and I suppose on that I scored about 6/10. College was a rollercoaster ride and included some of the highs and also some of the lowest points of my life. It is easy to talk about them in glowing terms, and indeed, they were some of the best days of my life. In the end though, it was three years in total and in the great scheme of things, probably not of great significance. I did meet my wife to be there, and that is all i will say about that.
I left college in the summer of 1970 and by now, any chances of me going home were pretty slim. I found a holiday job working in a bar on the Isle of Wight, where I spent the summer. My boss, found me a room - a tiny box without a window, in someone's house. It was grim but then I only slept there and not for long either. The work day began at 10am and we were there to clean the bar, restock and then open in time for lunch. The lunch session finished at 2pm and we were provided with lunch. The afternoon was usually spent sleeping on the beach, or grabbing a quick shower back at the boxroom, and then we'd be back at 5 for the start of the evening shift. Again we'd grab some food before hitting the bar for a 6 o'clock opening. In the evenings there was a band - a group of ancient players called "The Gay Bachelors!" They played what the early evening punters wanted to hear I guess, but the same things night after night. It seemed to make the night go slower if anything. They would play until 11pm and then a DJ would appear and the disco would begin and go on until 1am. Most of the night the largely drunken clientelle were six deep at the bar and very demanding. By closing time I was exhausted and believe me i earned every single penny of the thirty pounds a week.
It was the summer of the great Pop Festival, and Jimi Hendix's last public performance. We did go to look at the site but the festival passed me by, as did the 600,000 hippies that turned up to make it so memorable for so many.
The summer went quickly and I had a job to go to. I had been appointed to a High school in Alton, Hants, where i was to be based in an annexe along with the ne'er do wells, the then fourth year leavers. So I left the pub and headed back to the mainland and began the search for accommodation.
Mostly so far I have dwelled on the formative years of my life, and in them i include my college days. College was a place that i went hoping to grow up, and I suppose on that I scored about 6/10. College was a rollercoaster ride and included some of the highs and also some of the lowest points of my life. It is easy to talk about them in glowing terms, and indeed, they were some of the best days of my life. In the end though, it was three years in total and in the great scheme of things, probably not of great significance. I did meet my wife to be there, and that is all i will say about that.
I left college in the summer of 1970 and by now, any chances of me going home were pretty slim. I found a holiday job working in a bar on the Isle of Wight, where I spent the summer. My boss, found me a room - a tiny box without a window, in someone's house. It was grim but then I only slept there and not for long either. The work day began at 10am and we were there to clean the bar, restock and then open in time for lunch. The lunch session finished at 2pm and we were provided with lunch. The afternoon was usually spent sleeping on the beach, or grabbing a quick shower back at the boxroom, and then we'd be back at 5 for the start of the evening shift. Again we'd grab some food before hitting the bar for a 6 o'clock opening. In the evenings there was a band - a group of ancient players called "The Gay Bachelors!" They played what the early evening punters wanted to hear I guess, but the same things night after night. It seemed to make the night go slower if anything. They would play until 11pm and then a DJ would appear and the disco would begin and go on until 1am. Most of the night the largely drunken clientelle were six deep at the bar and very demanding. By closing time I was exhausted and believe me i earned every single penny of the thirty pounds a week.
It was the summer of the great Pop Festival, and Jimi Hendix's last public performance. We did go to look at the site but the festival passed me by, as did the 600,000 hippies that turned up to make it so memorable for so many.
The summer went quickly and I had a job to go to. I had been appointed to a High school in Alton, Hants, where i was to be based in an annexe along with the ne'er do wells, the then fourth year leavers. So I left the pub and headed back to the mainland and began the search for accommodation.
Thursday, 3 January 2008
2008
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
The English language is made so much more colourful by little sayings and truisms that may be lost on people not intimately familiar with it.
I have been ill since before December 25th. I guess that I was struck down by one of the many pernicious Viruses that the air seems filled with at this time of the year. It started with a sore throat and progressed from there, through a range of symptoms that I will not begin to describe, but suffice it to say that I have not eaten for four days.
Having a fair knowledge of the workings of the human body and the nasty things that can happen to it, means that I am always on the lookout for trouble, and so during the course of this recent bout of misery, i have imagined all sorts of causes for the series of discomforts that i have been through. Having a headache while feeling sick, got me looking for a rash that didn't exist, and a cramp in my right arm gave me a momentary cause for panic.
I am not a hypochondriac, in fact I am quite the reverse in the main. I will do anything to avoid taking pills and medicines, and have to be dragged screaming and kicking to visit doctors and hospitals, but the imagination is a scary thing and being a pessimist, I always imagine the worst possible scenario.
I am at a stage in life now where any illness could potentially be my last. In biological terms, i am redundant and therefore just a burden on the ecosystem. To all intents and purposes I am useless and therefore it is natural that my resources should be returned for recycling. Knowing this does help a little and I do not fear death. I fear the process of dying as I guess we all do, but I no longer have a sense that I have more to achieve.
This all sounds terribly maundlin, and was not what I set out to write but I guess it is time I tried to ingest more fuel. Maybe then i will feel more positive and ready to face a challenge, should any be put in my way.
One day, there will be a final entry in this blog, such things are inevitable. If this should be it then thank you for reading it.
The English language is made so much more colourful by little sayings and truisms that may be lost on people not intimately familiar with it.
I have been ill since before December 25th. I guess that I was struck down by one of the many pernicious Viruses that the air seems filled with at this time of the year. It started with a sore throat and progressed from there, through a range of symptoms that I will not begin to describe, but suffice it to say that I have not eaten for four days.
Having a fair knowledge of the workings of the human body and the nasty things that can happen to it, means that I am always on the lookout for trouble, and so during the course of this recent bout of misery, i have imagined all sorts of causes for the series of discomforts that i have been through. Having a headache while feeling sick, got me looking for a rash that didn't exist, and a cramp in my right arm gave me a momentary cause for panic.
I am not a hypochondriac, in fact I am quite the reverse in the main. I will do anything to avoid taking pills and medicines, and have to be dragged screaming and kicking to visit doctors and hospitals, but the imagination is a scary thing and being a pessimist, I always imagine the worst possible scenario.
I am at a stage in life now where any illness could potentially be my last. In biological terms, i am redundant and therefore just a burden on the ecosystem. To all intents and purposes I am useless and therefore it is natural that my resources should be returned for recycling. Knowing this does help a little and I do not fear death. I fear the process of dying as I guess we all do, but I no longer have a sense that I have more to achieve.
This all sounds terribly maundlin, and was not what I set out to write but I guess it is time I tried to ingest more fuel. Maybe then i will feel more positive and ready to face a challenge, should any be put in my way.
One day, there will be a final entry in this blog, such things are inevitable. If this should be it then thank you for reading it.
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