Who knows where the time goes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sNPorNyME0

Much to my delight, I have reestablished contact with a dear friend from the past. We met at college in 1967 and have not had any contact site that time. The first year of college is a strange time I guess and it is one in which a transition takes place. The majority of us were straight from school, so eighteen years old and for many away from home for the first time. The reins were off and the new freedom gave us all scope to explore our own boundaries, or as they would say today, to find ourselves.

For many that year has become a gap year. We could not afford that luxury, but on the other had we did not have to pay huge sums for the time in college and therefore accrue huge debts. Rather like life, I arrived at college with nothing and left with nothing; having said that I met some wonderful people and thanks to them learned a lot about myself.

That year introduced me to many experiences. Until then I had not been to an orchestral concert, an opera or eaten a curry. My eyes and ears were opened to so much it seems impossible from where I sit now.  I'd like to say that I was educated in the official sense of the word, but I was never a good student; I like many of those that I gravitated to were more interested in the other things that college had to offer. Most of us passed of course, but it wasn't about exam success, it was about your competence to run a classroom or to impart a curriculum to children and to be mindful of their safety. A few were weeded out along the way, they just didn't appear again after a teaching practice and they probably found other more lucrative pathways and met other groups of people.

For me that group of people will always be with me. I hadn't thought of my friend for a very long time, but now her memory is crystal clear. I can recall her 18 yr old face, her voice and so much more. Memory is a strange thing and it seems a shame that when we die, those memories will die with us. I think that is why I write this blog; maybe some of my memories will be read buy others in time to come.  Who knows?

Im Abendrot

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppoqUVlKkBU

In a few hours, 2016 will be consigned to the history books. In some parts of course it has already passed and much of the world is asleep in 2017.  It has been an interesting year in the Chinese curse sense.  Health issues apart, the rise of the right wing both here and abroad have raised spectres that most of us would like to forget, and now we have increased antagonism between the superpowers, fighting like children over their toys.  

The world should be uniting, there re so many problems that we face as a species and yet we continue along ridiculous isolationist pathways. The likes of Nicola Sturgeon have set in motion a very dangerous and undesirable cascade.

I wish my reader a happy New year. It is being delayed by a second but the inevitable will arrive for most of us just after midnight.  I don't suppose that 2017 will be much better for the planet than this one has been but we can still hope that people start thinking again.

At Sunset (Im Abendrot)

We've walked, hand in hand,
thought hardship and joy,
Now we both rest
from walking across the silent countryside.

All around us the valleys are fading,
it has already become dark. Just two larks are rising,
dreamlike into the heavens.

Stand here and let them fly about,
it will soon be time to sleep,
lest we go astray
in this loneliness.

Oh further, silent peace!
So profound at sunset.
How tired we are of travelling:
Is this perhaps death?

Christmas song

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I65_S78WHJY

Agricultural Caress

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TAa1ghqKwc

Apart from the Archers, most of us have no idea about the realities of agricultural life and the nitty gritty of food production.  My own experience of farming was on a very small and inefficient farm back in the sixties. It was run by an alcoholic Irishman, though his son probably did most of the management. They had a small herd of cows and the rest of the operation seemed to be centred on them. How they made any money is anyone's guess and such enterprises probably no longer exist.

In those days everything we ate was seasonal. Well ok maybe we had Corned beef from Argentina and baked beans from the USA but most stuff was locally produced. Now we have any produce we like at any time of year and farms have become huge businesses and part of the global economy. It is the only way that enough food can be produced to feed the burgeoning population.

Farms are much like factories today, employing highly technical solutions to most processes and in some instances employing migrant workers on very low wages to do the jobs that machines cannot yet do.  having done many of those jobs myself, I can empathise with those people, but for many, a job of any kind is better than no job at all.

The farm that was a part of my childhood had its seasons and we would participate in most of the processes that went on; probably out of boredom more than anything else. We may not have been a very reliable workforce but neither were we paid. For us the work was an entertainment of sorts as well as an educative process.  I learned a lot of pretty useless stuff in school but the learning on a farm is about reality and that has stayed with me. I value and appreciate food because I know that producing it is a long and complex business and one that we should not take for granted.

Hell, fire and damnation

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lD_zuTjtKdI

I just got back from shopping.  I know that some people love it but I could see little evidence of that as I wandered aimlessly around the high street today.  Most people seemed as clueless and desperate as each other and as for christmas spirit - well!

Ok I put my hand up to being a bit of a scrooge on the surface, but underneath there is another one. It does seem to me that most people find this time of year very stressful, and while it benefits local shopkeepers to some extent, the real winners are the corporations who are. like gigantic hoovers, sucking people's hard earned money from them. People are as always spending money that they don't have, incurring debts for plastic crap that nobody needs and few want. We will buy huge amounts of food, much of which will go to waste, and all of this for one day of lunacy. Black bins will soon be piled high with garbage, and that holy of holy, the christmas tree will be heading for recycling and another bloody silly season will be done and dusted.  

In the meantime we smile and wish each other merry christmas and send off the usual pile of cards to people we never see and may think about once a year. We realise that we have forgotten some and have to get more cards to reciprocate, and so do they. It is a time when we find out who is dead and who is dying, who has split up and who have paired, who have reproduced and who has left the country. 

So for me the shopping is done, I won't disclose what I bought but I did find a Pratchett book that I haven't read and a really good DVD compilation of the Old Grey Whistle test in a charity shop. That takes the edge off a little.

Solid Ground

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLqVWsSJC0o

I went to the grandchildren's nativity play this afternoon, and while it was delightful to see the kids perform and show their families what they have been working towards for the last few weeks, it struck me that they are all being prepared to take their places on the treadmill. Ok they have a few years to go yet, but they will be taught to compete, to value property and to fit into the machine that is our society. They will strive to succeed in jumping through whatever hoops are fashionable and hope to find employment that pays them enough to afford a mortgage, which they will spend the rest of their lives paying back. They will then  build homes which they will spend very little time in because they are too busy working to make money, and then at the end of it all their accumulated things will end up in black plastic bags and landfill. Their houses of course will be taken over by the next cohort coming through who will have to raise even more money because the prices of properties has gone up, and so it goes on. Welcome to the machine.

We own nothing. Property is a myth but it is a powerful one that the capitalist system depends upon; in the words used at most funerals, we bring nothing into the world and we sure as hell can take nothing out of it. We are stardust - all of us and simply passing through. Maybe we should think less about ownership and and more about sharing of what we have. You cannot own the land, the land owns you, and to it you will return.

Like a Rolling Stone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sftw5k_JRs

When I first heard this song in 1965/66, the world was a very different place and I was a very different person. I loved the song even though I had no idea what it was about. The concept of homelessness was alien to me; limited to the occasional "tramp" that would wander through the village. We'd give them tea and something to eat but then they would pass on and we probably never gave them another thought. It was seen as a lifestyle choice perhaps, and for some it may have been.

In this dog eat dog world, it is now becoming more and more difficult to make ends meet and with falling incomes and rising house prices, unscrupulous and greedy landlords are evicting tenants in order to raise rents and make more profits. As a result, more and more people of all ages are finding themselves on the streets and this is one of the tragedies of a so called civilised society. This is the legacy of long term government by parties that worship the capitalist ideals and does not look like getting fixed any time soon.  Council flats and houses were there to provide affordable housing, and when these were sold off to make profits for landlords, they were not replaced and now the concept of affordable housing seems to be based around cardboard boxes under bypasses.

The problem always seems worse at this time of year, with cold nights and all of the vulgarity of the festive season forming a contrast with the reality of misery for so many.   

My grandson is an innkeeper in his school nativity play today. He and all the rest of his privileged friends will put on the usual display of middle eastern mythology to the delight of their parents and relief of their teachers. I recited the temptation to subvert things by prompting him to tell the unwed parents, that they had plenty of room.

Albatross

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9u4vb3OPN_w

My brother Mark would have been 64 today had he not died at the age of seventeen in a stupid accident. He had been drinking with friends and was riding his motor cycle home. They were fooling around and he rode directly into the path of an oncoming vehicle. The whole family was of course devastated and probably never recovered from that.

After the funeral I went back to college and took his record collection with me. They were all 45s and  quite a lot of them were by Fleetwood Mac. I didn't even know that he liked them, and I remember sitting in my room playing them for hours on end. Albatross, Man of the world and Oh well must have driven my neighbours mad over a few days, but they did help me to come to terms with his death, something that my parents never did.

I understand , I think, why some people find comfort in their religions. It probably enables them to imagine their dear departed to be in a better place and still in some way alive. For me and many others, death is an ending, not a beginning. Mark will be remembered by the few family  members who still exist and his images will probably somewhere exist even after that.

The summer of that year, 1968, my cleaner, yes we were spoiled in those days, tidied my desk and put a pile of records on the windowsill in full sunlight.  Vinyls do not cope well with heat and when I returned to my room, they looked like a pile of black poppadoms so my physical link to him had gone.

Now I have access to whatever music I wish to hear, but Albatross on a scratchy vinyl would still sound wonderful.

Anthem

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wRYjtvIYK0

My current ear worm is this song by  the late great Leonard Cohen.  I never got to attend any of his concerts and now of course it is too late.  We do tend to imagine that we have plenty of time to do things and we put things off.

I have a diagnosis at last, and although not definitive, it seems to be the most likely one.  It would appear that I have developed a form of epilepsy and am being treated for that with purple pills that I have to add to my growing list of medications. I was already feeling unworldly before I began taking them but at least the episodes should be kept at bay. The next batch are overdue so maybe the pills do work - early days.

So now I have to find other things to write about. Mostly my posts here are pretty random and I babble about  whatever has come into my head. I sometimes wonder about those of you that read, or at least open the posts. I know that I have a small number of followers but you are of course anonymous and that is how it should be.  Occasionally I get a comment from someone but these tend to be few and far between; I must say that comments are welcome as it reminds me that I am not writing in a vacuum.

Anonymity is a double edged sword however and many people expressing their views on the web, do so only because they cannot easily be identified. Sitting in a darkened room can give a great sense of safety, and in those circumstances it is easy to be brave and even aggressive.  I am a frequent user of social media and I do use Facebook to express my views and to occasionally challenge the garbage that gets published, and for that I am frequently in trouble with some people that I know; especially those who think that the sole purpose of Facebook is to display their dinner or their pets.  At least with Facebook, people can identify me and I can limit my profile access to those who I wish to communicate with.

Social media will change the world more than we can imagine. We live in a world community and yet that community is divided and kept that way by manipulation of wealth. The rich have had things their way for centuries and there is a whiff of change in the air. There will be revolutions; the current system does not work and cracks are already appearing. Let us hope that light does get in and that the whole thing does not fall apart; anarchy is not an attractive option.

Brain Damage

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z39KZAryzk

Another in a long succession of bright sunny days, but so cold. However this is preferable to the dull dark rainy winter days that are the norm.  Today is also my appointment with the neurologist and I hope that I may get some answers, though of course he may have none. Some things are mysterious and have no answers. We do tend to think that all questions can be answered, and of course Google can do most things but there will always be mysteries.

Science has made much progress in our understanding of the brain, but it remains the least well understood organ in the body. It is fundamentally a mass of cells, neurons of  several types, blood vessels and fluid filled spaces, incapable of independent existence but it is where WE reside. Our thoughts, memories and emotions all originate in the brain, the rest of our bodies are there to ensure the survival and to provide stimulation for the brain.  We can describe the nature of nerve impulses and their propagation, we can to some extent comprehend the effects of those impulses on muscles and glands and we know how many of the hormones released operate, but we still do not fully understand memory or even our sense of self. There are some that believe that the brain is far too complex for us ever to understand it fully.

Some believe that the self is a soul and that it is immortal, remaining in the body as long as it lasts and then moving on.  It is easy to see why these beliefs are held, as when the brain shuts down completely, all we are is a lot of meat that will in a short while decompose into component parts. The idea that we have gone forever is for some very scary.  For me it isn't; we are all temporary and must face the fact that the world was here before us and will continue when we die. Some of us will be missed by a few people but we will inevitably cease to exist apart from in the memories of others or in family photographs.

I know that there is no tumour in my head, and for that I am grateful. I have known a number of people who have had them and have suffered horribly as a result.  There is some comfort in that knowledge but I am not sure how I will feel this afternoon, whatever the news may be. Remaining a mystery may be as hard as having an explanation.

The Crying Game

Yes, I know that I am writing a lot these days, and probably not making a great deal of sense but I am, by writing, trying to make sense of myself.  Of course no-one is obliged to read my words but I hope that one day they can be used by people that I care about, to understand me a little.

I was brought up, in strange circumstances by most people's reckoning, to keep opinions and emotions to myself. It was  a survival mechanism, by and large and encouraged me to inhabit my own inner world, a place where very few have ever been allowed entry to.  As children we were always encouraged to be brave and not to cry under any circumstances, probably because other people's tears are hard to cope with, or was it because it was a sign of weakness?

My head is all over the place these days, I have issues i know, but I suspect that they are of a physical nature and one of the changes in me recently has been an outbreak of emotional episodes that seem to run concurrently with the other things. I have never been one to give in to public displays of anything at all, least of all tears. It seems now though that has changed and the smallest things can on some days reduce me to a blubbering heap. It can be an image, a look on someone's face, a piece of music or anything of beauty.  If I see someone else crying I join them, though I still fight really hard not to. If I am alone then I just let go and then it passes until the next time.

Crying gives relief I know and some people are very good at it. I am a beginner and know that I have a long way to go before it seems like the right thing to do. In the meantime I am taking steps to unwind what is inside me by committing my inner feelings to this blog. If you are reading this, thank you and please bear with me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JrSTPNkPcDE

Patterns

One of my favourite phases in science education involved a scheme called SCISP. The Schools Council Integrated Science Project. I still have the books somewhere. The overall theme was patterns, looking for patterns, analysing and applying patterns and so on. Admittedly it was designed for the more able students and was meant to challenge them and enable and encourage the thinking process. I remember one particular experiment where the students used a simple electrolytic process to measure the charge carried by a a single electron. I wasn't expecting much in terms of accuracy but was thoroughly impressed when the first group to finish came up with a value within five percent of the textbook value.  They were pretty thrilled too.

We use patterns so much in life, anything from construction to train timetables and yet we give them little thought or consideration.  The year that is thankfully coming to an end, like other years, follows a pattern of day and night, of seasons and so on, all events that influence and determine our own lives and the patterns that we live by.

I have recently had so many scans and procedures to investigate the strange episodes that have taken over my life.  They seem to follow a pattern of sorts. As I write I am aware that the next batch is overdue and I know that soon a day will be wiped out with a succession of mini seizures and that the following few days will be filled with fatigue and lethargy.  The results of the most recent scan, showed that thy lower half is ok and that nothing is growing in there that shouldn't be so that was a relief. The next appointment is thursday when I see the neurologist for the outcome of the brain scan and the EEG. I am guessing that if there was anything crucial, that I would have been called earlier, but that is hope as much as pattern interpretation.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GTmN7Fhv6o

I just wasn't made for these times

We had an elderly neighbour, when I was not so elderly, who frequently looked at the news and said that this was not her world any more. Things do change rapidly these days and probably more than we are able to manage, and I am beginning to feel the same.

When I was growing up, things seemed to change very slowly, if at all, and each year was more or less the same as the previous one. Technology was in a very long and extended infancy. There were no computers, mobile phones or even remote controls.  I remember at college, learning about binary and hexadecimal systems and thinking that this was pretty irrelevant, and mocked a fellow student who said that one day a whole record collection would be stored on a divide that would fit into the palm of your hand.

My smartphone and smart TV are infinitely smarter than I am and each has more computing power than I am capable of comprehending and it seems that there is always a new gadget around the corner.     It appears that it is now possible to control virtually all things electrical in your home from your phone. We are becoming so very dependent upon this electronic revolution and many of us are becoming addicted to screens and would suffer withdrawal should we become deprived for any length of time.

I have always been a fan of computers, I loved writing programs and love the access that they give us to the world, but am also aware of the dangers of social media and in particular the damage that too much unverifiable information can do.  These are interesting times indeed and I am sure that I am lagging behind, but perhaps that is an inevitability.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NR7_TbMIVnA

The eve of destruction

Since human society emerged, there has probably been a sense of impending doom. Life is nasty brutish and short, and for some nastier, more brutish and shorter than others.  Bible enthusiasts seem to revel in the weird and rather ridiculous book of revelations and use it periodically to predict the end of the world, and of course for everyone, on a personal level, the world will end as far as they are concerned.

Of course the world will end, as far as humans are concerned, sooner or later. Probably by natural causes; a meteorite strike or a new disease, something beyond our power to control.

I am old enough to remember the Bay of Pigs incident, which placed us within a hairs breadth of war with Russia. It was I suspect a game of cat and mouse with both sides bluffing and counterbluffing, but is was a very scary time even for those of us who did not understand what was happening. It wasn't very long after the end of WW2 and for many the memory of the use of nuclear weapons was very clear, and their use again did not seem an impossibility. Now we talk about MAD, mutually assured destruction, and we hope that the situation of a stalemate will always prevent the lunatic use of such devices. We hope that our leaders will have the sense and the humanity to resist any temptation to start something that cannot be stopped.

Now we have the rise of the ultra right and their barmy racist attitudes. Both sides of the Atlantic seem under the influence of the lunatic fringe and it is they that are calling the shots.  Property and shares are the most important criteria and people will come a way down the list in terms of priorities.
A fragmenting Europe and a fragmenting UK cannot be seen as a good thing and yet there are those who promote Nationalism as the best thing since sliced bread. Maybe we are doomed after all; maybe we should be.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMq66DhYUmM

Late November

It is a beautiful day, though raining oak leaves.  They seem to accumulate much faster than I can sweep them so perhaps I will leave that job until the last one drops.

The winter solstice is only weeks away and the spectre of the silly season looms, but even that will soon be over and done with and we can at least begin to think about a new year and hope as always that it will be a better one than this has been.

2016 will go down as a turning point in history. This has been the year when the reality of mortality has been underlined so frequently and those that began the upsurge of celebrity are leaving their oh so public lives behind.  Next year will be no different in that respect  and it is an inevitability that reminds us all of our own limited time.

It has been a year when many of those without a voice found one and were pursuaded that the current system stinks and that it should be replaced; not by a humane and caring government, but by something fundamentally even more evil and divisive.

For me it has been a year of health concerns and hospital visits and tests. I have had everything scanned and proper now and await results still. I have a doctor's appointment next week and then an appointment with the neurologist in December. These things do take time I know and remind me that I am just one patient amongst countless others, many of whom have needs far more urgent than my own.  Part of me wants results, and part of me does not, especially if there is nothing that I can do about what is wrong.

In my job as a teacher, the emphasis shifted towards the end of my career to testing and measuring and assessing anything and everything. Whilst ticking boxes and filling forms made some people happy, it became clear that we were measuring things that could not be changed and this to me seemed an awful waste of time and effort. In terms of health, knowing that there is a problem that cannot be solved only leads to worry and concern.

So life goes on; as some people leave the stage, more enter to take their place, it just seems that in some fields that quality is being replaced by quantity.

This lady left the stage a long while ago and far too soon, but we all have to take our exit sooner or later. Let us make sure that we enjoy the time that we have.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQiWL0HfIJs

Lurching to the right

The world is going mad.  I am convinced that fundamentally people are insane or at least terminally stupid.  We have been manipulated by a right wing government for years now. Even under New Labour the political right were in charge - Blair and his cronies were watered down Tories after all.

So people in the West are tired of the corruption and greed of the capitalist system protected by the right wing, and so what do they do? They shift their allegiance to the far right, blinded by empty promises that things will get better for them. Things will not get better for the majority of people while we have a privileged few owning most of the wealth and being protected by the status quo.

The likes of Farage, Johnson and Trump have cleverly insinuated themselves into the minds of the disenfranchised and led them by the nose into the cesspit of nationalism. We are embarking on a dangerous journey and I fear for the future.  The very idea of Farage as an ambassador would be funny if it hadn't been seriously suggested.  Yes politics, and parliament need a shake up but it seems that everything is in danger of falling apart if these people get their way.

Mark Twain once said "If voting made a difference they would not let is do it."  Maybe he was wrong.

Another night at the opera

Getting to London is easy from here. There are plenty of trains and if you choose your time you can usually get a seat. That part I don't mind, but being in London is for me a bit of a nightmare. I don't handle noise well and am even less comfortable being surrounded by so many people, many of whom are more intent on their phones than they are on where they are going.

It was a short walk from Charing Cross to a nice Mexican restaurant, but the noise inside was almost double that of the outside. Why do some places feel the need to play music at such high volumes? For me it wipes out any hope of conversation or even hearing what the waiters have to say.  The food was nice however and the service very good so we left in plenty of time to walk around to the Coliseum, a venue that I had never been to before. It is sumptuous to look at but the seats are not that comfortable and legroom is sparse,  this is important when you are taller than average.

Tosca was beautifully directed and performed, the orchestra was particularly good.  There were distractions however. For me, the appearance of the lead roles is important if I am to suspend disbelief. Tosca and Cavaradossi were both rather plump to say the least, and without wishing to be fattest, I find that difficult. They both had wonderful voices however and produced the volume that is required in such a huge venue. Their acting was adequate though there were moments when the director seemed to have run out of ideas as to where they should be in musical interludes. Her final leap from the battlements was not a disappointment. She fell backwards, arms outspread into the void and did not bounce back into view.

It was a very worthwhile experience and at fifty pounds a ticket it should have been. The audience profile was not entirely made up of us silver haired retirees but we were the large majority. Like most things, opera is becoming very expensive and unaffordable to many people and that is a shame. Maybe we silver heads are keeping it going at the moment and there will probably be more coming along to replace us,  I hope so.

The journey home was straightforward and the silence of home so very welcome.

A night at the opera

Cosi Fan Tutte is not my favourite of all operas, but the Covent Garden production this week was truly wonderful. To fully appreciate an opera you have to be there, to witness the live production and it's multi dimensionality.  The Royal Opera House is a delight. It exudes class, albeit of a rather fading variety, and provides an experience that only a few of us get to taste.

Mozart's music has stood the test of time and still seems remarkable. His ability to show human emotions through music is remarkable, and and almost packed house on monday night were enthralled, mesmerised and thoroughly entertained by this great production.

Getting there means a train journey and a reasonable walk through crowded London streets, and I find that quite uncomfortable. The number of homeless seems to grow each time I visit, and while there are people struggling to survive, we were indulging ourselves with a meal out and expensive tickets. Yes I felt pangs of something approaching guilt and was reminded of how we as a society are divided, and not just into haves and have nots.

Opera is not to everyone's taste, it is something that may or not may grow on you with exposure, but it does require an ability to concentrate in order to follow a silly story and an ability to appreciate the intricacy of a musical score, and three hours can seem a very long time.

Each new production, requires new interpretations and this was no exception. There were two things that still have be baffled and I would appreciate input on this. During the overture, the cast in full traditional costume took curtain calls, unapplauded,  but acted as if otherwise. The second thing was an illuminated COSI FAN TUTTE was deliberately edited towards the end of the second act, to read COSI FAN TUTTI. The subtlety of which has passed me by.

Beatification

I am sure that the truth about Mother Teresa lies somewhere between Christopher Hitchins' view and that of the political wing of the Roman Catholic Church. Fundamentally she was a human being, and like all human beings, fallible. She had a very good press coverage and a recognisable image. She was a distraction from paedophile priests and other un-Christinalike activities in one of the wealthiest organisations in the world. Her death, refocussed the public eye just where the church did not want it and so what do they do?  

Beatification does not happen too often, as by their own rules, they have to prove that miracles have been brought about. Now it seems that two patients have recovered after she prayed for them. Enough evidence to now refer to her as Saint Teresa.  Does this not seem rather mediaeval?  Does it not demonstrate that the whole process is and always has been a political move?  It does encourage speculation into what they are up to now.

It's a funny time of year

September is here already, the nights are drawing in and the hot spell seems to have strands of chill in  it. Spiders webs are more visible in the mornings and the leaves are showing signs of ageing.

More important than these things, the shops are in a back to school frenzy. For weeks now they have been teasing parents with their advertisements, but now reality is looming large and many parents are so looking forward to getting rid of their kids for five days a week.

As a child, the summer holidays seemed very long and often very warm. We had very few things to look forward to apart from not being at school, and both parents were at work so we made do and created our own entertainment. I am sure there were times when boredom would take hold but by and large there was always something to do in the big outdoors.

As a a teacher the holidays seemed very short and the last week in particular was rather like a sunday night, with the spectre of monday morning sitting on your shoulder.  There will be many teachers out there now feeling the stress building again as they prepare for yet another fun packed academic year. Many will be parents too and will have very mixed emotions regarding the back to school experience. Uniforms will have been outgrown and will need replacing at great cost, equipment will have to be replaced so that their kids are not disadvantaged.

I had a leather satchel; it was given to me by my grandparents when I passed the eleven plus, and I kept it going until I left school seven years later.  I guess it didn't carry much of interest, a few books, a ruler, set square and protractor and maybe a packed lunch. There were no electronic items then, no calculators, no tablets or mobile phones, times were much simpler and in many ways much easier.
Children today have all the material things they want; even the poorer families seem to have mobile phones and computers and of course access to social media and all of the problems that come with that.  In my day social media was limited to graffiti written on desktops with the point of a compass.

So next week children will be squeaky clean, well groomed and dressed, lined up for photos and sent on their way to the next year of their education and mothers will heave sighs of relief along with grandparents who have been in loco parentis for the last six weeks., and the world will get back to normality for a while.