“The weather,” I was told with authority, “is going to change on Wednesday.”
Given the generally unsympathetic offerings the celestial spheres have produced any assurance, no matter how spurious, is greeted with fervent faith. I have used up my supply of faith (usually only thrown around on election night) in willing the weather to behave more as if it’s in Catalonia. Which, of course, it is.
We have not had sullen days of grey depression and, apart from a series of reservoir filling storms, we’ve had little enough rain – but that’s not the point. The point is that every day should be an oven in which I should be basting. And it isn’t. Not even remotely.
So Toni’s blithe assurances that climactic conditions will match the advertising are pathetically welcome.
I have been told that one advantage of subdued weather conditions has been that the greenhouse potential of our glass sided school has not generated the heat which would, given the length of our school day, allow a moderate sized joint to be cooked to perfection by being placed on the middle landing!
And with the departure of the kids on Friday we (the men) may be allowed to throw caution and couture to the wind and wear shorts. This radical departure from the required standard of male attire has, of course, yet to be confirmed!
This week promises to be one filled with incident.
Given the generally unsympathetic offerings the celestial spheres have produced any assurance, no matter how spurious, is greeted with fervent faith. I have used up my supply of faith (usually only thrown around on election night) in willing the weather to behave more as if it’s in Catalonia. Which, of course, it is.
We have not had sullen days of grey depression and, apart from a series of reservoir filling storms, we’ve had little enough rain – but that’s not the point. The point is that every day should be an oven in which I should be basting. And it isn’t. Not even remotely.
So Toni’s blithe assurances that climactic conditions will match the advertising are pathetically welcome.
I have been told that one advantage of subdued weather conditions has been that the greenhouse potential of our glass sided school has not generated the heat which would, given the length of our school day, allow a moderate sized joint to be cooked to perfection by being placed on the middle landing!
And with the departure of the kids on Friday we (the men) may be allowed to throw caution and couture to the wind and wear shorts. This radical departure from the required standard of male attire has, of course, yet to be confirmed!
This week promises to be one filled with incident.
The true horror of our Summer Concert is to be unleashed on the punch drunk parents. This parade of ill sung ditties is something which only direct DNA links to the perpetrators could make tolerable. Though I have to say that the ‘character links’ I have written for members of my drama group to introduce each number have the potential to be at least mildly interesting.
One of the ‘actors’ is a small, long haired girl whose general placidity comes close to torpor. I have cast her as a clown and her naturally deadpan delivery is unintentionally mesmeric! The ‘star’ of our little troupe is a girl from my class who plays a ‘rich woman’ and has a natural sense of timing which gives her performance a professional sheen. The other characters, in case you are wondering, include a witch, an alien, a hippy, a cat, a ballet dancer and a singer. All of them with a little monologue by me! Those of you who know me can only shudder at the thought of what I have these poor children saying! Such fun!
But the little irritations of education pale into insignificance beside the reality of the immanent birth of a second nephew to Toni. As the present nephew is the cynosure of all family eyes I cannot imagine what a pretender to the centrality of the present three year old is going to produce. Even though he (and we know that it is a he) is brother to the present nephew, I fear that we may have a situation which will be comparable with that of the scandal of the Babylonian Captivity at Avignon when there were two rival popes. I am sure that the present wearer of the triple crown of family devotion is not going to take kindly to a mewling pretender to his throne. I only hope that I can be like some unassuming scribe member of one of the less important ecclesiastic houses of poor brothers seeking only to scratch the parchment to chronicle events rather than seeking to influence them!
As Toni’s sister has now gone into hospital, it looks as though The Birth is near. Toni has holiday owning to him and is prepared to rush to his home city to imprint his scent on the newborn to ensure family solidarity!
This would suggest that I am likely to have to welcome The Girls by myself.
How to keep two sixteen year old Welsh girls happy has been a constant nagging fear ever since their arrival was tied down to a specific flight. Their distant threat is now a proximate reality and they will be here next week!
There arrival coincides with a national holiday when I am assured there will be fireworks in Sitges. And possibly bonfires. All to the good. That’s one evening taken care of, only the rest of the time to worry about!
There’s always shopping!
One of the ‘actors’ is a small, long haired girl whose general placidity comes close to torpor. I have cast her as a clown and her naturally deadpan delivery is unintentionally mesmeric! The ‘star’ of our little troupe is a girl from my class who plays a ‘rich woman’ and has a natural sense of timing which gives her performance a professional sheen. The other characters, in case you are wondering, include a witch, an alien, a hippy, a cat, a ballet dancer and a singer. All of them with a little monologue by me! Those of you who know me can only shudder at the thought of what I have these poor children saying! Such fun!
But the little irritations of education pale into insignificance beside the reality of the immanent birth of a second nephew to Toni. As the present nephew is the cynosure of all family eyes I cannot imagine what a pretender to the centrality of the present three year old is going to produce. Even though he (and we know that it is a he) is brother to the present nephew, I fear that we may have a situation which will be comparable with that of the scandal of the Babylonian Captivity at Avignon when there were two rival popes. I am sure that the present wearer of the triple crown of family devotion is not going to take kindly to a mewling pretender to his throne. I only hope that I can be like some unassuming scribe member of one of the less important ecclesiastic houses of poor brothers seeking only to scratch the parchment to chronicle events rather than seeking to influence them!
As Toni’s sister has now gone into hospital, it looks as though The Birth is near. Toni has holiday owning to him and is prepared to rush to his home city to imprint his scent on the newborn to ensure family solidarity!
This would suggest that I am likely to have to welcome The Girls by myself.
How to keep two sixteen year old Welsh girls happy has been a constant nagging fear ever since their arrival was tied down to a specific flight. Their distant threat is now a proximate reality and they will be here next week!
There arrival coincides with a national holiday when I am assured there will be fireworks in Sitges. And possibly bonfires. All to the good. That’s one evening taken care of, only the rest of the time to worry about!
There’s always shopping!
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