Be very scared when a Catalan driver waves to admit a mistake!
My drive to work this morning was almost the last I made. The vacant attitude of the driver who merged with my line of traffic with a complete disregard for the fact that I was travelling in a car on a collision course with his! For the first time for a long time I sounded by horn.
I don’t know if it is European Policy to fit all new cars with horns that emit an entirely inappropriately emasculated noise, but it is certain that stabbing the horn to express exasperation and mortal hatred produces a pathetic mewling sound which undercuts the savagery with which the centre of the wheel has been punched.
The only strategy to restore the blast of withering contempt and macho swagger that horns used to have is to ignore the noise that your car is making and resort to length of press to make up for the emasculated purring that emanates from the sequestered comfort of the engine space!
I braked rather than enter oblivion and indulged in extended horn depression.
To be fair to the murderously inclined driver he immediately waved to accept his total guilt and then waved again to show how heinous his crime was. This is unique in my experience in Catalonia: not only an admission of guilt, but also acceptance of magnitude! Unprecedented!
My OHP now sits in my classroom, still the centre of speculation and amazement from the kids. But this is a school after all so I don’t have either a screen nor do I have transparencies; nor indeed OHP pens. How many times can we remember from the past a new piece of technology arrive in a school only to be consigned to some dusty corner because the day to day necessities needed to make it work were not in evidence. Some things never change.
Carnival looms ever closer and the details of what the hell we are supposed to be doing with our contingent of the youth of Catalonia are something of a pressing problem.
Whatever we do is going to be done to the Grand March from Aida.
Culture in the midst of misrule!
My drive to work this morning was almost the last I made. The vacant attitude of the driver who merged with my line of traffic with a complete disregard for the fact that I was travelling in a car on a collision course with his! For the first time for a long time I sounded by horn.
I don’t know if it is European Policy to fit all new cars with horns that emit an entirely inappropriately emasculated noise, but it is certain that stabbing the horn to express exasperation and mortal hatred produces a pathetic mewling sound which undercuts the savagery with which the centre of the wheel has been punched.
The only strategy to restore the blast of withering contempt and macho swagger that horns used to have is to ignore the noise that your car is making and resort to length of press to make up for the emasculated purring that emanates from the sequestered comfort of the engine space!
I braked rather than enter oblivion and indulged in extended horn depression.
To be fair to the murderously inclined driver he immediately waved to accept his total guilt and then waved again to show how heinous his crime was. This is unique in my experience in Catalonia: not only an admission of guilt, but also acceptance of magnitude! Unprecedented!
My OHP now sits in my classroom, still the centre of speculation and amazement from the kids. But this is a school after all so I don’t have either a screen nor do I have transparencies; nor indeed OHP pens. How many times can we remember from the past a new piece of technology arrive in a school only to be consigned to some dusty corner because the day to day necessities needed to make it work were not in evidence. Some things never change.
Carnival looms ever closer and the details of what the hell we are supposed to be doing with our contingent of the youth of Catalonia are something of a pressing problem.
Whatever we do is going to be done to the Grand March from Aida.
Culture in the midst of misrule!
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