Cardiff to Catalonia!

Misery Awaits!

2012-02-16T23:08:00.001Z

We have an internal mail system in myschool which I assiduously avoid. Therewill be nothing in the messages, I keep telling myself, that are going to make my life easier. On the contrary the only missive I have thereentail extra work. I avoid going into mymail like the bloody plague. Anyone whocares knows my “proper” mail address and will write to me there.

I was tricked into writing an internal mailcommunication and I then happened to see the mail that was waiting for me. Even more stupidly I opened one of the messages. And, inexplicably, I opened the attachedfile.

To my utter horror and woeful disbelief Idiscovered that the unreal management of our institution has scheduled FIVEHOURS OF MEETINGS AFTER SCHOOL ON MONDAY AND TUESDAY.

There is no reason for my brokenastonishment. It is not as if theinstitution has not done this sort of thing before.

We have had a new computer “platform” onwhich we have to enter all our term marks. We also have to write a comment for each child on the computer. We also have to write a class comment whichhas to be sent to the class teacher. Allof this is extra work, giving extra information to the people who will ignore itall. And we have a longer meeting to saythe same things that we have already written to people who are not listening.

So after a full day’s teaching of five orsix periods we are then allowed a fifteen-minute break and then subjected to two and ahalf hours of a meeting. And then thesame thing the next night. Unbelievable. And all in aforeign language.

I wouldn’t mind if these meetings were inany way useful, but they are merely talking shops for people who like to hearthe sound of their own voices and any attempt to make a decision about thepupils who need a new approach to deal with their problems is brushed away. By late on Tuesday evening I will be spittingblood, if I can get that liquid past gritted teeth and a clenched jaw.

The system that we are having use isunhelpful and slow and crashes when too many people try and access it. It was a trying time using the system thismorning surrounded by frustrated teachers breathing fiery threats of immanentdestruction towards the inoffensive machines they were punching informationinto!

I have mostly completed the reporting thatI have to do and hope that I can complete what I have to do in the free periodI have tomorrow. If not. Not.

This week has been horrendous with peoplewe cannot afford to be without being absent due to an increase in the amount offlu that has stricken our school. Whoknows who might be absent tomorrow! Andwe don’t begrudge doing extra in our overcrowded week because it puts in theright frame of mind for the five hours of meetings that are going to make ourlives just that little bit more complete next week.

I am getting all the bile out of my systemso that I can adopt an unnatural serenity in the days to come.

Fond hope!

Unobtrusive wins!

2012-02-15T23:07:00.000Z

Febrile activity at the moment as the Ladywith the List appears in the staff room spreading misery where’re she goes asthe many substitutions are distributed to cope with the wholesale absence ofstaff who are succumbing right, left and centre to the ravages of colds andflu-like diseases.

I am sitting alone in the staff room as Iam early and all the rest of my colleagues have rushed off to start their firstlessons at the ungodly time of 8.15 am. I am, as you will realise, totally vulnerable and as management rusharound looking more and more frazzled I can’t help feeling that my free time isin a more than fragile state. And thereis nowhere to hide. When teaching startsall available rooms are in use and therefore not available for hiding.

The lady has returned with sheaves of paperwith the names of the condemned on them. I shall go to the toilet in self-defence!

The comings and goings are continuing and Istill have not had the courage to look at the list to see if I have been“taken”. It is more stressful worryingabout the possible loss of non-contact periods than actually losing them!

Lunch consisted of veggie-burgers ofsawdust like texture and it certainly gave a clear indication of taste togetherwith a plate of cooked, sliced vegetables with a sauce which was asgastronomically distant from the pseudo-burgers as Boris Johnston is from aBlack Hole – although I realise that that last random conjunction of imagers isperhaps not as random (or as distant) as I first thought! Anyway, the veg were excellent and made upfor the rest.

Apart from my liking for meat, eggs, fishand the like I really think that I could become a vegetarian.

Not to be out of the diseased loop which seemsto be claiming so many of the staff I too now feel slightly under theweather. There is that vague tickle inthe back of the throat, a slightly metallic feel to the back of the nose and avery distinct lethargy – if that is not a contradiction in words – which I knowwell.

These symptoms are not helped by theskittish attitude towards working temperature that the building I am in atpresent thinks is conducive to stable living. As you progress from room to room via the corridor it is like going on awalking tour of the globe passing from Tundra to Tropical in a matter ofseconds. In a piece of idiocy that hasto be experienced to be believed each room has its own complex temperaturecontrol. Which doesn’t work. It is either too hot (even for me!) or toocold.

And you have to have experienced Catalanand Spanish children to realise just how pathetic they are capable of beingwhen they encounter anything less than Atacama Desert heat in their teachingenvironment. Their piteous cries for warmthwould melt the heart of a Thatcher – but I remain coldly aloof and smile an icysmile of complete lack of sympathy at their plight, and urge them to think harderand faster to get the neurons heated up!

Our Second Annual Chocolate Week(incorporating cakes) is now scheduled to start on Monday 27^th ofFebruary and to stretch into March (even if this year is a Leap Year) and giveus something to look forward to and something to think back on during the harddays leading up to the Easter Holidays.

As I promised a colleague during our FirstAnnual Chocolate Week I will be making chocolate goldies this year – they arethe same as chocolate brownies but made with white chocolate rather than darkor milk. I also quite like taking overthe St David’s Day spot and producing a triple chocolate Welsh flag toppedcake. But that might be a bake beyond!

Time will tell.

Well, at least Tuesday is over!

2012-02-14T21:02:00.000Z

I know my place!

After all my moaning and groaning about theabsurd timetable we have in this school I felt what I knew ought to be humilitywhen a colleague told me that he had just lost his remaining free period and sowas teaching eight (8! Count ‘em!) periods today! Awful but true!

I checked through the substitutions listthis morning, saw that I wasn’t on it and have sedulously avoided looking at itagain. Just in case. Two, or even one, extra periods added to thesix that I am scheduled to teach today would push me over the edge into thatmisty realm of the educational berserker from which blood-dimmed tide noreputation emerges unscathed!

I shall just meditate quietly and withoutrancour on the second and third lessons with the 3ESO that I am about toexperience today, the first having been a collapsed class having to cope withyet another person being absent.

And just to make matters more than perfectI seem to have gouged a chunk out of a nail which has left a jagged edge whichcatches in everything and encourages a questing thumb to smooth its serratededge with increasing irritation. Don’tlet anyone tell you that cutting a recalcitrant nail with stationery scissorsis a way of getting the situation back to normal. I am sure that The Case of the CatastrophicCuticle is merely displacement activity to blank my mind to the two hours ofeagerly receptive faces that will fill the long, hard stretch of the dwindlingafternoon.

I have just had my lunch which consisted ofa hardboiled egg on a piece of toast covered with something soft and whitish witha latticework of hardened cheese granules. And chips. With gratedcarrot. As meals go, it went – and I amready to depart. But, alas – the smilingfaces, the smiling faces! Which soundslike an unfunny parody of Mr Kurtz’ final utterance.

Having got that out of my system I can now lookforward to female stereotyping as found in multitudes of advertisements on theInternet. My media studies class isbecoming almost expert in the annotation of the most glaring denotations in theoutpouring of the commercial visual arts and a few of the more livelyintelligences hazard tentative conjectures around the most obvious connotationsthat they may contain!

Our task this week, following on from whatwe are going to do in the first period is construct a list of five differentexamples of male stereotypes used in advertising. The five females types are The Beauty Bunny;The Alpha Female; The Fashionista; The Perfect Mum and The Granny. It will be interesting to see what the kidscome up with, as I am not sure that there are direct male equivalents – atleast not as widely used in advertising.

One hour of the two hours that I have withthe kids is taken up with them in the computer room. Our kids are so needy that this is not asrestful as you might think with my constantly being called on to validate orexplain or evaluate.

Dinner this evening was delicious, simplebut tasty and all lubricated with a mysterious bottle of Cava that someone musthave given us at some time in the past but rather appropriately for the day ithad a graphic of a red sketched heart as part of the label. Happenstance.

The useful part of having a new bottle ofCava is that I can save the metal top on the cork and pass it on to our schoolsecretary whose sister-in-law collects these things. She gains brownie points by donating to thegrowing collection.

This, in itself is of no importance to me,but as any experienced teacher will tell you, anything which makes the schoolsecretary happy is worth encouraging – especially if you can be seen to bedoing something positive yourself to increase this happiness. We are blessed in our school with a secretarywho is helpfulness itself – and with a sense of humour linked to a keen senseof irony. Hard earned experience willtell any receptive teacher that this is something not to be treated lightly!

Barça are playing in the Champions League(which explains why we didn’t go out to El Elefant as I wanted to this evening)and I hope to god that they win as, in La Liga, Real Madrid are now ten pointsin front and, as far as I can see, unassailable in their ownership of thecup. Barça’s possible silverware remainsanchored to the Copa del Rey and the much, much more difficult to win ChampionsLeague. I think that I will move toanother country if Barça are forced out of both of those!

Tomorrow, Wednesday, is the “tipping point”of the week when we begin our downward slide into the weekend: we have to takeour points of human warmth where we can find them. And it is in this spirit of positive beliefin something better than the drudgery in which we find ourselves that I haveraised the idea of The Second Annual Chocolate Week.

This was inaugurated last year and was agreat success. Each day of the week amember of the English Department brought in a homemade chocolate confection forthe delectation of the hard working members of the department. I was very much in favour of an obviousexclusivity connected with this enterprise on the principle that it is notenough for people to be happy, it is necessary for other people to be seen tobe unhappy.

Disappointingly, given the flaccid attitudeof so-called professionals in the caring professions to hard-line selfishness,there was a general tendency towards sharing and this has been (in spite of aminority of one’s vociferous objections) elevated into some sort of moralimperative defining the activity of the proposed week.

Not only has this pinko-pseudo communisticattitude towards exclusivity lessened the delight of the week but also thereare mutterings against the hard-line insistence on chocolate as the motivatingfactor in the energy giving productions. It has been suggested that the chocolate appellation be extended to amore generic “cake” theme.

It has been proposed that the week be thebridging one between the tail end of February and the start of March. Presumably I will have to create something inthe form of the Welsh Flag to celebrate St David’s Day! How would I do that, I wonder?

I will have to see tomorrow if the datemeets with general acceptance and then we can get planning.

Something to look forward to!

Start, as I hope it doesn't go on!

2012-02-13T22:27:00.001Z

There is nothing like starting the weekwith cold fury motivating you.

I arrived to find a chorus of disgruntledreturnees from various trips crying aloud to whatever gods there be that theyhad gone on a school trip for the last time. The details of the horrors were instructive and ranged from abuse ofmobile phones to call parents at 3.00am to addiction to cough mixture. There were the usual stories of mislaidpassports and travel sickness and enough extraneous detail to make me very gladthat I had elected to stay and hold the fort in Barcelona rather than goanywhere with kids.

What was les instructive was therealization that members of staff were absent. We work on such a tight staffing ratio that a single member of staffabsent causes chaos; when we have three or four absent then the chaos tendstowards the cataclysmic: Thanatos stalks the corridors!

Today I am teaching a mere five periods anddoing a lunchtime duty but, given the absurd length of the school day we cansqueeze in at least another two periods. One of which I lost so I am doing what would be impossible in a normalBritish school with a five period day, which is to teach six periods and takemy lunch in the last period available.

During the short period after my duty I hadto photocopy sheets for tomorrow when another member of staff is going to beabsent (just to add to the general jollity) so that we can collapse classes toaccommodate further strains on our teaching.

I didn’t actually manage to get thephotocopying done before the bell sounded for me to go to my extra class (theequivalent of Year 11) so I am feeling well disposed to the whole of creationwhen I consider that tomorrow is a “timetabled” six period day – though, as acharming treat I do not have to complete another lunchtime duty. My next duty is not until Wednesday!

One of my o-so-helpful colleagues informedme that the next holiday is not for seven weeks and that is after five weeks ofthis present term have already passed. At least I have had four days some something different and one day ofholiday, whereas some of my colleagues did not get back from their trips untilSaturday evening. So they have had onlythe hollow rest of a teacher’s Sunday to draw breath before the long slog toEaster.

Another beautiful but cold day with lowbands of indistinct cloud. This morningwas 2 degrees and my car started with the characteristic beeping whichindicates “Danger of Ice”. I have not seenany ice, but there was some frost on the window one day a couple of weeks ago.

Two years ago it was during early Marchthat we had a bad snowstorm. We can onlyhope for a repetition – but this time with the ludicrous panic thatcharacterised the frenzied approach to twenty-seven snowflakes in the morningleading to the closure of the school by lunchtime in bright sunshine insnowless skies! I certainly have nodesire to repeat the two-and-a-half hour journey from school to home thatmarred the delight of the school closing!

The extra day!

2012-02-12T21:00:00.000Z

After conquering my lurching fear that itwas actually Monday – the day off on Friday having thrown my internal calendarinto some sort of confusion – I relaxed and subsided back into the sort ofuneasy doze which is my usual early morning mode and stayed in bed until afternine! A three-hour lie in! Luxury.

I continued the housekeeping theme todayand in the general hysteria even included a few short spasms of hovering. I am now in a state of mental and physicalcollapse and am looking forward to the start of the school week to get back tonormality.

That was a joke.

In fact I, along with all my colleagues, amdreading the reality of the distant, distant Easter holidays. Though, by that time the weather should haveimproved and we should be getting a certain amount of heat with the sunshinethat we are getting already today!

Apart from the reading of The Guardianelectronically and a few snatched pages from “A Welsh Eye” by Gwyn Thomas thatsurfaced as I was moving things around during the previously mentioned, so-calledhousekeeping, I read nothing of any extent this holiday. I do not count the few science fictionstories that I read on my phone during lunch on Saturday.

That sort of self-indulgence is a dangerouspossible addiction for me, as I have always had to deal with the swampingattraction of science fiction. I limitmyself in this particular genre and every time I read a short story (no matterhow dire it is) I feel the pull to plunge in and lose myself as I have done inthe past! Teaching, the sheer physicalpresence I have to put in is my form of rehab!

At some point during this week I amdetermined to put in some time and get a few more sentences written for myMaking Sense of Modern Art. This doesgive me something to focus on which engages my interest and is an on-goingproject to take me to the end of the year.

At least it will take my mind off what isgoing to happen in the next few weeks with regard to finance in this country!

Frightening, but fascinating!

Domestic humiliation!

2012-02-11T23:33:00.001Z

There are only two types of ironing: thecommitted and the reluctant. I am verymuch of the latter party and only ever iron in extremis. As the mountain of crumpled clothing threatenedto make entry to my library impossible I succumbed to the necessity and(eventually) set up the ironing board.

It is at time like this that I thankwhatever deities there may be for the steam version of that fat steel triangleof misery. The cloth mountain was bonedry and curling at the edges and I forcibly reminded of the iron that my motherused to use which was as dry as the clothes. As I recall she would either sprinkle the clothes with water or use adampened tea cloth to ease the smoothing. I find it quite difficult enough manoeuvring one piece of cloth on theboard without the added horror of a further layer!

The steam iron is the only defence againstmanic depression and I felt quite unduly smug as I emptied the water reservoirfrom the tumble dryer into a jug for use in the iron, having been informed by aknowledgeable Catalonian of my acquaintance that this was a simple and cheapsupply of ionised (or possibly unionised) water which was essential for use inthe smoothing process.

Although the sun is shining here in almostflawlessly blue skies, it is not warm and I have taken to the wearing ofjumpers. They may be thin, but they arejumpers and I consider that I have therefore reached another stage in my ageingas I succumb (is that the second time that I have used that word?) to thefebrile pleasure of the flesh and cling to residual warmth as I traipse frombuilding to building in my day job.

This is not, remarkably, a digression fromironing. Indeed not. Jumpers, while retaining body heat also haveanother inestimable advantage: they hide my reluctant form of ironing.

I can do the collar and cuff bits; theshirt-tails and breast pockets; the button facings are easy – but the yoke andset-in sleeves are beyond me, as indeed are long sleeves. My aim in ironing is to make the crumplingless. There are areas of smoothness inmy finished article but I rely heavily on body heat to do its bit in theironing process and to aid that I feel that the jumper is an invaluableaddition to the steam.

I sometimes think that one of the mostimportant reasons for moving to Spain was the fact that it is possible to wearshort-sleeved shirts for the greater proportion of the year. After all, the hairs on the arm areprogrammed to erect themselves to aid heat retention when weather becomes alittle brisk – and that little physiological atavistic heat conservationtechnique can take one bare-armed well into December in this country!

The Mountain has now been levelled andaccess to the books is an open invitation to get them into some sort oforder. An invitation I shall firmlyresist until the more “open” days of the summer when I WILL visit the church onthe hill above Sant Boi. I shudder tothink how many times I have said that. But this year will be different. And the shudders continue when I think how many times I have addedthat. But I have promised to loan a bookof Yeats poems in a parallel Spanish/English text to a colleague and I have noidea at all of where it might be. ThoughI did find lots of interesting things (not merely books) in my last search!

My colleagues in the UK are gearingthemselves down to enjoy the half term holiday. We do not have this obviously necessary break during the term and soMonday sees the second half of term with most of my colleagues having had onlya single day’s respite from the kids. Mycolleagues who went to England last week will only have arrived back thisweekend and so will have missed out on the single day holiday of Friday. And they have a very long haul to the releaseof Easter.

As soon as we go back we will be preparingfor the next set of examinations, in the strangely compulsive way that thesystem demands: pointless, counter-productive and addictive! Give us a day or so and the hiatus (one canhardly call it anything more positive) of last week will be lost in the pastand people will look as harassed and edgy as the default condition of work inour place.

And that is without the ever-present threatof a pay reduction! God alone knows whatthe Greeks are deciding or not deciding as I type, but whatever they decide itis not going to be good news for the Eurozone and for the EU generally. Spain’s horrific levels of unemployment arenot the cause of wholesale rioting because of the strength of the Black Economyin this country - which is vast and presumably increasing. With a quarter of the total population out ofwork and half (!) of young people out of work something must be going on toprevent the total economic and social collapse that should be visible if thesefigures told the whole story.

In the next few weeks the mendacious anddiscredited government of PP (a party which includes creeps like Camps in theirvile ranks and is mired in an on-going corruption scandal) are going to makeannouncements about their approach to El Crisis. As the government has already done a U-turnand taken the two measures of increased taxation which they vowed that theywould never do in the run up to their election, they can only do more of thesame. We confidently expect higher taxesand a cut in wages, and perhaps tinkering with the so-called “extra” pays thatwe have as an integral part of our salary.

In our school, because of our doublepay-masters (government and private foundation) any percentage cut will bedifficult to impose because of the complex proportions in our pay mix, so it islikely that a lower rate across the whole slew of teachers whether they arepaid by the government or the foundation will be imposed.

And presumably we will be expected to worknormally for lower wages. This is a formof economics that doesn’t work in the so-called real world. I cannot go into a shop having been paid lessand tell the shopkeeper that I will only pay 95% of the prices that he chargesbecause my wages have been cut by 5%. No, I will have to buy less because I have less money. It follows that if the school (for whateverreason) pays us less then we do less. They cannot afford our full time services, and just like the shopkeeperswho don’t lower their prices (indeed inflation has risen year on year since ourwages have been frozen) they should expect to get less from the customers. Which lessons would they like me to stopteaching?

When I put to a colleague that ourtimetable is over-long; our day is over-long; the curriculum is over-long andtherefore there was room to cut it according to how much the school couldafford to pay – he looked at me as though I was mad. It seems like simple economics to me: if youcan’t afford something you can’t have it. The school can’t pay; it can’t have the same as before. So cut. Why should we be the only section of society that works according tofairy-tale economics rather than the economics that we encounter when we takeour pay and spend it?

I know that I am going to be a lone voicecrying in the wilderness as frightened workers scurry up to managers to showhow committed they are in spite of the cuts so that they can keep theirjobs. The government has, by the way,lowered (by 50%) payments that have to be made to workers who are sacked. And in Spain you can always be sacked. Spanish labour law and unemployment paymentsare a complete mess and need to be sorted out, but the government using acrisis to pay back to their friends in business at the expense of ordinaryworkers is a more than repulsive (though sadly common) aspect of all right-wingparties in power.

It will only be a few weeks before we knowthe worst, or at least the beginning of the worst. I am sure that we will be drip-fed cuts andincreases in payments over the next year or so. And of course, if Greece has a disorderly exit from the Euro god aloneknows what will happen.

Happy days!

Partial Pleasure!

2012-02-10T21:52:00.002Z

The Week Without Kids is finally beginningto get to me. Not the “without kids” bit– what teacher worth his salt doesn’t rejoice when the clients are away! But the relentless work that we who are leftare doing. I have had meetings andmarked as though both had gone out of fashion and, let’s face it, when eitherof those two items is in short supply then teaching itself will have fadedaway.

The meetings have been productive (headmitted through gritted teeth) and, although they resulted in more work for me(I have yet to go to a meeting which didn’t) it was work that I enjoyed up to apoint.

I have learned to smile and accept anotherpart of the joyful adoption of IT that this school sees as an unending pageantof educational justification. I am not surethat the previous sentence means anything, but I am sure that you can get theslightly jaundiced and more than grudging air with which it was written.

I have been busily selecting paintings forthe test that the kids are going to have, to see if they can at least recognizethe “-ism” that each neatly (or not so neatly) fits into. This has been done on PowerPoint, which I donot use as much as I should do, and indeed, delving deeper into the artisticdepths of PowerPoint was one of the aspects of my teaching that I was going toexplore this term.

More visually stunning PowerPointpresentations was the first of my three or four areas of improvement. Of the other three I have spent about 7minutes on one and about 20 minutes on another and no time at all on thethird. This is not what I had hoped forfrom the “free” week which is ending this afternoon. And, just in case you are wondering, thistyping is being done in what should be my break time!

The rest of the day should enable me tocomplete yet more marking and I think that I will end up with (at last) somework on my Magnum Opus of Making Sense of Modern Art. I only hope that I can remember the name ofthe file in which the few minutes’ work that I have done is safely lurkingwaiting for me to continue in my customary deathless prose.

Yet more marking has been done – which begsthe questions of why it was all waiting for the space of the Trip Week to becompleted! But let it pass, let itpass! I am now in the blessed state ofbeing almost up to date. No teacher isever fully up to date. This is a stateof impossibility. An educationalNirvana! There is always something to bedone – and that something to be done has a way of creeping up on one and bitingtender parts when you least expect it. Mainlybecause you have entirely forgotten about it until the space in front of you isfilled with questioning faces!

So just time for another little break and aspot of work before a spot of lunch!

I have just cleaned out my pestilential mugwith a Kleenex and spit and have thought of the incomparable Boundsie – the tealady of all tea ladies in my last real school. I hasten to add that she does not come to mind for use her use ofKleenex and spit (she must be revolving in her grave as she looks at my grossattempts to preserve the integrity of my mug!) but rather for her periodicdisgust at the condition of my mug and her later vouchsafing the informationthat she had doused it liberally in Domestos to get rid of the ingrained tanninwhich was resistant to ordinary washing! We shall not see her like again and no staff room that I have been insince has been complete without her!

I made an executive decision yesterday togo home early. We ragged survivors, theleft-overs from the Great Exodus as all the rest of the school has joined inthe diaspora to other places in the name of education, have been workinginordinately hard considering there was very little in the way of oversight ofwhat we were or were not doing!

I have done a lot, but not what I reallywanted to do.

I was beaten by Technological AspirationalDysfunction. Not on the part of themachine, oh no, my TAD comes from commercial greed.

It all comes down to a timeline. For my MSOMA (Making Sense of Modern Art)course I wanted to construct a timeline showing when each of the eight “–isms”we look at is placed in the twentieth century. Having at last learned to trust the computer to tell me about thecomputer I ventured onto the Internet to find out if there was a ready-madetemplate for me to use.

They exist – but not quite as I want themto. I delved deeper and discovered thattimeless could be created using Excel and Word. More delving brought me face to face with a step-by-step video. Things appeared to be getting better andbetter! But (isn’t there always a “but”when you deal with computers) each of the programs that I was considering wasof a slightly different vintage to the one that I am actually using. Added to this is the fact that I am usingMicrosoft programs which have been designed for use on the Mac. It was as if I had been magically transportedback to my first “real” computer, a Macintosh which supposedly worked withspecially adapted Microsoft programs - and it never quite did. And now in 2012 we are back where I began,trying to use programs which are “almost” the same as the ones that everyoneelse is using with their machines and finding the inevitable problems. It is at times like this that one sees veryclearly how Microsoft has made its money. And built up a level of hatred in their imprisoned users that beggarsbelief.

Perhaps I have been a little hasty. I was trying to form my timeline at the endof school yesterday and that was not the best time to be concentrating withfull attention.

Today, Friday, a day I should be in schoolbut this is an occasional day, a day of freedom – and the last day of joy untilthe Easter holidays – we went to Terrassa and I had an excellent lunch providedby Toni’s Mum. I had planned to go toBarcelona and see an exhibition but returning on the motorways was threatening,with the amount of traffic building up nicely to intolerable proportions so Ireturned home.

And did housework. I think I made a false call somewhere alongthe line!

Garzon has been stripped of his position ofJudge for 11 years. For those whocheered when this enterprising Judge tried to get the loathsome Pinochetextradited to Spain to face charges for the various crimes that he hadcommitted, it is a time of considerable sadness that this crusading (whoops,sorry, that word is very much off limits nowadays!) this resourceful legalforce has had his activities limited by what appears to be a well orchestratedand politically motivated campaign to stop him.

The fact that he was investigating amassive case of alleged corruption which implicates the ruling PP party andthat the judges who have ruled against him have links to the party as wellmakes for a truly depressing assessment of the state of the judiciary in Spainat the moment.

The slimy ex-president of Valencia has beenfound not guilty of corruption by the resounding margin of 5 to 4 by the popularjury while the most enterprising judge of modern times in Spain has beenstripped of his authority (and there are two other cases against him pending)is enough to make one weep.

And with that sad thought I will go to bed!

And music shall untune the sky!

2012-02-07T21:20:00.000Z

It is impractical and illegal to have ashot of strong, black coffee while motoring in the rush hour on the northernring road of Barcelona, but you can have the aural equivalent.

This morning, after setting off for work adelicious half hour later than usual, I played the first of the discs that formpart of the Mercury Living Presence box set that I collected (again!) from thenon-delivering deliverers.

The first disc in the collection was aperformance of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” (and the answer to theTrivial Pursuit question is Hartmann) played by the Chicago Symphony Orchestraunder Kubelik.

The Mercury sound is highlighted in thisrecording and the sharpness of the instrumentation is something which wakes youup in an instant! Subtle it is not - butthoroughly enjoyable.

The piece was not complete by the time Ipulled into my usual parking space - nearest to home! I therefore have “The Great Gate of Kiev” tocome and given the rest of the performance that should match my mood ofexultation as I head downwards to the shores of Castelldefels at the end of theday! Having failed to play the trombonevery well in a number of orchestras in my school days I vividly remember thetriplets (of impossible height above the stave) in The Great Gate (triplets whichdo not occur in the original piano version I might add) which we in the brasssection generally failed to play. Ahmemories!

The Great Gate was as exhilarating as Iexpected with the crisp sound vibrating through the car frame! The next piece of music on the disc, however,reminded me of the bad old days as I heard the gentle hiss of extraneous noisethat I had almost forgotten from even the most basic DDD CDs. How Proustian!

An exhausting day today with another set ofexam papers marked; a meeting in the morning; a written account of the rats ofHamlyn from the Piper’s point of view (with rat illustrations) and not a singlemoment spent on what I want to do. It isamazing what you can do when your working environment is cleared ofclients! Two more days and then a dayoff. The high point of the day was themorning break when we had croissants with dark chocolate and ginger. As it happened I had decided to bring some ofmy vastly expensive Earl Grey tea.

Mostsatisfactory – and with Mozart playing through my computer almost civilized!

Sport? Why?

2012-02-06T22:47:00.000Z

God knows, except in exceptionalcircumstances, I am lukewarm (to put it mildly) about most forms of spectatorsports. My interest in the forthcomingOlympics is mostly political and sociological.

This time around I have missed the usualhorror story of venues incomplete, transportation in chaos and money beingthrown around as if all those involved had been Las Vegas winners.

Admittedly there have been the traditionalscandals about the money and newspaper people have made much of the questionsabout “legacy” – but this is scraping the barrel compared to the lead up to theAthens Olympics. And, let’s face it,part of the reason that those Games took place at all is now coming back tohaunt us because the money that the Greeks spent they did not actually have andnow they are dragging us all down with the lies that they told about theirfinances! One hopes that this is notgoing to be the pattern for the present Games!

I have watched with delight the way thatthe venues have been built and the way in which the subsidiary aspects of theGames have been developed. I like thewalkways and the art associated with them; the landscaping and choice offlowers; the steel artwork by Kapoor (though I am not convinced by the finaloutcome, I like the enterprise of its construction); I am interested in thehousing which has already been produced for athletes and the people of the areaand I love the lying rhetoric of everyone involved.

As far as I can tell the traffic chaos (whichis inevitable) has been thought about in detail and firms have been informed ofthe best ways to deal with it. There is,however a feeling that I get from the press that it is only disaster that willbe acceptable. This is normally my own feelingabout this corrupt and corrupting sporting event, but I must admit that I dofeel differently now that it is taking place in Britain – and if my informationis correct, I understand that one of the first events will take place beforethe official opening takes place and will be held in Cardiff! How can I be openly cynical at such a time!

There is also the other nagging fear, andthat is the one where we will end up without a single gold medal. This happened in Canada where the host nationdid not pick up a single example of the yellow stuff. That cannot (can not) happen in Britainbecause a new stamp issue featuring Britain’s gold medal winners has alreadybeen scheduled!

In philatelic terms the Olympics hasalready been a success. From theremarkably elegant “Handover” issue to the various issues celebrating the rangeOlympic sports including, for the first time the paraplegic as integral ratherthan periphery, has been excellent. Credit where credit is due!

It is a pity that these games are fouryears too soon. Too soon for a world class(and world champion at his level) yachtsman that we have as a pupil in schoolwho, in spite of my repeated encouragement to get rid of the couple of guys inhis way, has settled for possible representation of Spain in Rio in four yearstime. I don’t think that he understandsthat I would have gone to Britain to watch him compete, but am loath to makethe trip to South America in 2016!

I am writing this while watching the Irishv Wales game and we have just converted a try and are in the lead and now theIrish have a penalty kick. Toni has beennoting the language used by a self-confessed agnostic as far as competitivesport is concerned. But I do get workedup when I actually watch it! And theIrish are now in front again. By asingle point. With half an hour to go. The score has changed but with three minutesto go Wales are still a point behind the Irish.

It a totally melodramatic ending, witheverything depending on a final penalty, Wales has WON! So there! And, even for someone like me with a limited attention span for thissort of thing, I considered this to be an excellent game. Not without its moments of controversy and,to add my five penn’orth, I think that the Welsh player should have been sentoff and not given a yellow card and six minutes in the sin bin. However, we WON so I don’t care! And with three home games yet to come we arewell sited for the Championship.

That was yesterday. Today, for the first time I had to scrape iceoff the windscreen. I could see mybreath! This was not what I wanted as Imade my way to a supposedly virtually empty school.

During my school day I taught the firstlesson to the 18 members of the first and second form who had not gone ontrips; invigilated an examination I had written for my second year sixth; did alunch time duty; marked a set of examination papers; started marking a secondset – and even did a few minutes of the work that I actually wanted to do.

Tomorrow there is a scheduled meeting forthe work on Heroes and Anti Heroes that we have been engaged on for sometime. I have done my bits apart from atedious schemata for assessment so I will look forward to my colleagues’contributions tomorrow!

There are two other threats to my own workprojections but I have dismissive plans for one of them and the other I willsimply have to duck and weave with!

The Amazon delivery service always fallsdown when entrusted into the hands of the carrier of the last distance. Yet again, in spite of someone being herewhen they were supposed to have called, I found myself going to the centraloffice of the company to get my goods.

Which are wonderful.

Having purchased a few cheap CD cases tocontain them I spent a happy hour unpacking the goodies. My two major purchases are the box set ofMercury Living Presence recordings and the Decca box set.

These CDs are reissues of famous LPs of thepast. I now have a CD of the Nelson Massthat I lost when I got rid of all my LPs. The original Britten Requiem is now part of my collection again. And the famous recording of the 1812 which Ilast owned as an EP! There is much, muchmore with famous dead musicians and conductors as well as those who are stillvery much alive.

I am slightly ashamed that all thesetreasures have been bought merely to keep me amused as I travel by car towork. Though I am looking forward toploughing my way through a substantial tranche of quality music.

Tomorrow back to the limited work I did onThe Bricks in the Tate – part of my proposed introduction to Making Sense of ModernArt. Something I want to do rather than thethings that my school wants me to do.

It will be a battle of wills to see whatwork comes out on top tomorrow!

Resumed!

2012-02-05T09:36:00.002Z

The time since I last wrote is somethinglike the missing and blank pages in Sterne’s “Tristram Shandy” – they are there throughdeliberate decision and have a communicative power which printed pages can notconvey. Or I might just have been atouch lazy and slumped into my bed without committing my thoughts to backlighted screen!

I have visited the Opera and seen “Ilbubero di buon cuore” (“The Good-Hearted Curmudgeon”) by Vincent Martín i Solerwith a libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte from a play by Carlo Goldoni and firstperformed in 1786 and first performed in the Liceu in 2012 and more than likelyit will now slip back into its well-deserved obscurity.

The promise of the overture was notsustained by the rest of the opera. Theoverture was lively and inventive and the rest of the music was not able tosave a ridiculous storyline with too much recitative. I found myself dropping off during the firsthalf and, while the second half was better it was not enough to convince me ofthe worth of this relic.

The singers were fine and the orchestra wasconducted by local legend Jordi Savall who is the undisputed king of periodmusic in Barcelona, but still not enough to compel interest.

It was ironic that it was during this unspectacularperformance that we were informed of the dire straits that the Liceu is in atthe moment. Grants have been cut withthe result that the production of one full opera has been cancelled with otherdance and music events falling to the financial axe as well. The Crisis begins to hit the middle classes!

We season ticket holders have beenpresented with a few options. We canhave a refund; put the money to a subscription next season; spend the money(plus 10%) in the Liceu shop, or donate the money to the Liceu Foundation. The last option is, of course, out of thequestion – and I don’t think that an extra 10% on Liceu prices gets near theprofit margins they already have so I think that an interest free loan towardsthe cost of the next season is as far to charity as I feel like going!

The cold financial climate is matched bythe weather. The bitterly cold windsfrom the north have swept through Spain and we have been shivering in seasonal,but unwelcome chilliness. I think that Imust have adopted the responses of Catalonia as I have been complaining of thecold when the temperature has been a healthy 3°C andwhich has further risen to 7 or 8°C by the time I have got to school. As I listen to the Today Programme firstthing in the mornings I am aware of the temperatures that I would beexperiencing at home and I tell myself to be grateful.

We have had snow! Not, admittedly in Castelldefels, but ratherin the mountain fastness of my teaching establishment. The kids went wild with their first sight ofsnowflakes and gleefully told me that they would have to go home at once.

As the flakes drifted lazily down promptly todissolve on the wet surface of the ground I disabused my less than enthusiasticeducates about the likelihood of their departure. Admittedly, in our minds was the snow of twoyears ago when the precipitation was of such an unusual ferocity that theentire traffic system of Barcelona was reduced to chaos and it took me over twohours to get home. And that was asnothing to the five hours that it took one of my colleagues!

With the awful prospect of being stuck in schoolin all Catalonia minds, the whole of the country reverted to their comfort zoneof complete panic.

While the British contingent was reduced tohelpless laughter and eyebrows raised to a height previously thought impossiblewithout some of the instruments of torture dear to the hearts of the SpanishInquisition, the school started to implode.

With class teachers dashing from place to place,tannoyed announcements making the school sound like a copy of a Second WorldWar Spitfighter squadron being scrambled, secretaries trying to cope with theflood of telephone messages from parents – the only thing that was missing askids were frantically dispatched to the safety of their homes was thesnow. Which had stopped. And with a clearing sky looked as though itwas not going to start again.

But the evacuation went on and went on soefficiently that, as one colleague remarked the “school was emptied moreefficiently and quickly than for a fire drill”!

So, within a remarkably short period of time weteachers were left in that educational nirvana known as a pupil-less school.

I was lucky that I was in Building 4. Our Glorious Leader came in and told us wewere free to go home! Not so theteachers in Building 1 who only discovered our departure some time later andwho, when appealing to the less than glorious leader of the other building weretold to stay! Their mutinous mutteringsdid eventually get them away, but only an hour after us!

The celebratory meal that Toni and I had towelcome the (lack of) snow sending me home was the only unsatisfactory elementin a delightful day. For the first timeour restaurant of choice produced a poor main course – but we put that down toexperience and I was in too high spirits at the unexpected break that nothingcould dampen.

The next day, in spite of dire forecasts we hadnothing but cold sunshine – but the break was appreciated and the Friday that wereturned, for me at least, was a less than strenuous day with tests and filmsand an early departure.

The spirit of my mother loomed large on Saturdaywith a trip into Barcelona to see Irene. Our meetings are few and far between nowadays as Irene’s teachingcommitments are unsocial and so our usual way of staying in touch is via email.

Yesterday was, however a good face-to-face inone of the larger Barcelona shopping centres.

Our first act was to have a cup of coffee (teain my case – I never learn) and start the chatting and gossip. By the time our dregs had dried we were readyto “go shopping” – a phrase which well deserves its speech marks for both ofus.

I did have a thin justification for shopping, asI “needed” some spices not held in our local supermarkets and also a coffeethingy by Bodum.

What I actually bought were two deliciouslyelegant Cava glasses with endless stems and cruelly etiolated tulip shapedbusiness ends. Simple and yetdecadent! And they had 30% off in thesales, so there. In the same shop Ibought a small two-cup Chinese clear glass teapot (full price) and six driedtea bombs (more than full price) whose price was more than worth it when anopen -mouthed Toni watched the tea bomb expand into a sort of flowerarrangement as boiling water was added. The almost clear water that was the “tea” I eventually drank made up themost expensive cuppa I have ever had. Iam sure that she already has one, but I couldn’t help thinking that the teapotand bombs would be the almost perfect present for Clarrie! She’d love it.

Next week the school will be unnaturally empty,as my colleagues have taken our raw material off on trips. My 2BXT will still be there on Monday. Which is just as well as they have anexamination written with my own hands which tests the vocabulary they have comeacross during their so-called reading. Writing sentences into which the kids have to fill in the gaps withwords that they have learned in class is one of the few exercises that I enjoyproducing. You can imagine the sort ofsentences that I write!

My plan for next week is to get stuck into thetask of producing a sort of reference book for my Making Sense of Modern Art –for which I have made some unnecessarily large purchases of wonderful art books. I fear though, that devious minds havelaboured well into the night to ensure that I do not have the freedom necessaryto work alone and that I might be drawn into collaborative exercises that willfritter away time in other less productive directions.

We will see.

What happens next?

2012-01-30T11:06:00.001Z

For one horrible moment I thought that nextweek which I have been looking forward to was going to be ruined because of thenoxious presence of extraneous kids. Myidea of paradise, a school drained of the unruly horror of actual students wasgoing to be blasted by economic disaster.

Spanair has gone bust and we were flyingsome of our kids off to who-cares-where and now they (whoever they are) have tofind alternative transport. I wastransfixed with despair at the thought of a surgically clean school beingpolluted with disgruntled students who were unable to participate in our TripWeek, mainly because of the realization that someone left back at base wouldhave to look after them in their lessons.

Buses, train, AVE, horseback, hovercraft,pogo stick were all suggested by me in an excess of fear that my pseudo-holidaywas about to be ruined. I even suggestedmaking the trip into a pilgrimage so that we could justify the kids walking ifnecessary.

But crisis management is something this schooldoes well. It is unfortunate that italso precipitates the crises that necessitate the crisis management, but wehave to be grateful for small mercies. An announcement was made in morning break which suggested that variousalternatives were already being explored and that the kids should be safely (ifpossible) away at the appropriate time.

A week today will be the last normalteaching day for my 2BXT, and I think that the rest of the school will besafely away by that time. Nothing,absolutely nothing has been said about what we Ones Who Are Left are supposedto be doing.

I have plenty to do during this unnaturalweek and it would be great if I were able to get into the writing for my ArtBook – though those capital letters are a little pretentious for what I amseeking to achieve. But it would give mea couple of days to break the back of the project and anyway it would give metime to get together a series of pictures that will be necessary to make the thingwork.

I will also have marking to do and I havevowed that I am never going to do any marking at home again. We have an enforced eight-hour day and thatis long enough for anything to get done – and if it isn’t long enough then itsimply is not going to get done. I haveadopted this policy for the last few months and, while it does make for somefun-filled and frantic days, it generally works out.

Of course there are some things that I willdo in my spare time at home connected with school that do not count: reading isan obvious example. Especially readingabout (art or Art) and reading literature.

I cannot bring myself to tolerate the mealymouthed pretentious indulgence which usually constitutes writing abouteducation. Suzanne is different and sherejoices in the stuff that makes my blood run cold and, even worse, actuallyputs educational ideas into practical operation in her classes.

I tell myself that as an Art Teacher shehas her own room, own equipment, a practical bias and enough time to developconcepts whereas I am an itinerant teacher with no base and no storage in myteaching spaces.

I have realized that the last sentence isnot strictly true as, in one class I have the upturned lid of a paper box tokeep my text books while in another I have attempted to utilize the spacearound the television, CD player and computer in a video storage cupboard forthe stuff for Media Studies, Current Affairs and Making Sense of ModernArt. To say I am squeezed is somethingof an understatement!

Tomorrow is the next in my opera series inthe Liceu and this is either going to be a revelation or an explanation of whythis piece has never been played in the Liceu since in was written in the lastquarter of the eighteenth century by Vicent Martín i Soler – a name, I am sureyou will agree, to conjure with. OK, hislibrettist was Da Ponte and Mozart wrote an aria for inclusion in the opera andit doesn’t matter how much you say that in his day he rivalled Mozart andSalieri, there must be a reason why this Catalan composer has not had his operapresented once in Catalonia in the Liceu in the couple of centuries that haveelapsed since the first performance. Iwait to be convinced.

So far into the season, with the exceptionof Carmen, I have not been to anything that I have known well. And tomorrow I am presented with a composerwhose name I heard for the first time when I read the prospectus for theforthcoming season.

Educators need to be educated too! At least I am with Suzanne on that one!

There is always buying1

2012-01-29T20:07:00.002Z

A cold but sunny morning and the drizzleand rain of yesterday just a damp memory.

I went shopping for the ingredients forToni’s paella and on the way back stopped at a stall to get chocolate andchurros. Churros are fingers of extrudedbatter which are deep-fried and sprinkled with sugar. The chocolate drink which comes with thisindulgent calorie-filled excess should be of the consistency of slow movinglava. Ours was not; it was more like asweet drink of comforting late night coco-lite and was greeted with nationalisticdismay by Toni. And these so-calledfoodstuffs weren’t cheap either. Anothereating place to cross off the list!

Toni’s paella was a good first attempt –there is nothing so satisfying as damming with faint praise. He chose to make a vegetable paella which ismore difficult to bring off because there is not the obvious taste centre ofmeat in the dish – but the rice was done to perfection and that, after all isthe main ingredient! Damming with faintpraise Part II!

My journeys to school devour CD at anastonishing rate and I am therefore always in the market for cheapish (thoughintellectually respectable) CDs to be used and discarded much like hitchhikersQuentin Crisp described being picked up by truck drivers “used for theirpleasure and then discarded like used Hershey Bar wrappers.”

As I am usually driving in sullen disbeliefas I make my way (in darkness) to my place of work, I need the comfort ofClassical Music to make my entry to school just that little bit moretolerable. There are, you might remark,two perfectly good Classical Music Radio Stations on my radio but they bothsuffer from the same delusion and that delusion can make my sullen resentmentboil up into incandescent anger in the twinkling of an eye.

I do not, have never and will neverunderstand why Classical Music, even in its widest interpretation (i.e.allowing people like Karl Jenkins with their euphemistically “polystylistic”approach to share a concert stage with composers like Sibelius!) has to includethe dreaded and justly despised so-called music designated by the appellationof “Jazz.”

I am well aware that I am dismissing, byusing the term Jazz as an inclusive description, a whole diverse collection ofwidely different strands. And I amfurther aware that when Jazz forms part of the inspiration for so-calledconventional composers I am more than happy to listen to it. And if it comes to that I am thirdly awarethat some Jazz has set my feet tapping and I have been more than happy todevour quantities of strong liquid beverages while listening to it as apleasant background music. What I hateis the hard-core stuff, the modern self-indulgent meandering masquerading asmusic. And they put it on Radio 3 andwrite about it in my Classical Music Magazine and foist it on unsuspectinglisteners who tune into the radio in good faith expecting the Real Thing.

So I am more than prepared to provide myown series of discs so that my journey time is conducive to mellowcontemplation – even when the music is hysterical.

I have therefore had a wonderfullyself-indulgent (but not in the way of modern Jazz musicians) time seeking outthe most Classic FM or These We Have Loved selections and listening with gleeduring the chunks of time when I am avoiding motorcyclists on the motorways.

In one of the supermarkets I chanced upon aseries of triple-disc sets which were marketed as “The 50 best . . . “etc. In this series I have listened tothe fifty best adagios, children’s classics, cello works, ballet extracts,marriage pieces, spiritual classics and so the list goes on. Some, I have to say I will never listen toagain – even with a cash inducement! Butsupplies, like teabags, just run out when you least expect and I have beenhunting for new supplies.

And, yet again, trusty Amazon shoulders itsway to my attention. I am a greatdevotee of “Brilliant Classics” – a terminally naff name but an excellent CDpublisher with unbeatable prices on their offerings. I have been um-ing and ah-ing over one oftheir latest offerings which is a box set of the works of Tchaikovsky. But this includes all sorts of things whichare not necessarily the best sort of thing to listen to when driving withloonies in the morning. I am looking forsomething altogether more vulgar.

And Amazon, much in the manner of UriahHeep when he was pushing the bottle of sherry towards Mr Wickfield in the hopeof encouraging him into ways of dissipation, keeps popping up urging me to buy,buy, buy things that they know that I want.

So I have given in and ordered two box setsof innumerable discs for a couple of quid each which give me the best andbrightest of Decca and Mercury. I knowthat these are the dusty back-catalogues of hard pressed music companies tryingto squeeze the last drops out of obsolete recordings, but they are perfect forwhat I need them for and will cover my travel time for the rest of theyear. And, after all it’s cheaper thanpetrol and it will last longer!

I also have another non-delivery toanticipate as the fluid organization that is Amazon is dammed (in both sensesof the word) by the shoddy and lying inefficiency of the final firm in thechain which actually gets the parcels to me.

I now assume that Amazon is right when Iread the email which says that the package has been handed over to the localdelivery service and I now ignore the mendacious notes and denials of theservice and merely go in to the local office, proffer my identification numberand wait for my package.

Which I later take without saying what Ireally think because I know that they can get a great deal worse.

I am sure that companies like the one thatis supposed to deliver to us rely on the fact that they know that there will bemore hassle when returning packages than putting up with the sub-standardservice that we can from them at the moment.

Culture at last!

2012-01-28T23:56:00.001Z

Waiting for a 95 in meaninglessly spitefuldrizzle I wondered about the complete lack of information we have about what ishappening to the bus system.

Bus prices were hiked by a third as agesture towards repairing the ravages of the Crisis and there has been areorganization of bus stops so that one bus appears to have vanished.

The most direct bus into Barcelona is the94 but that bus seems to have been banned from our part of the world, so I hadto be satisfied with the 95 which stops everywhere before it gets to itsdestination.

But at least I got a seat, and eventually Iwas able to change it for one pointing in the right direction. And eventually get to the exhibition for avisit which has been long delayed.

“Maestros Franceses deal Colección Clark”was an amazing collection of paintings from the Barbizon School to theImpressionists and slightly beyond.

Apart from the Clarks’ unhealthypreoccupation with Renoir – whose unhealthily saccharine works have neverappealed to me – the collection is astonishing. It is inclusive and revealing. AMonet of a storm at sea dating from 1886 and other early examples of famousartists gives an alternative view of some of their work. For example a Caillebotte painting from 1892has elements which give it the appearance of a piece of Fauvist art, a far cryfrom his more urban meticulousness!

My cordial dislike of Corot continuescentred I think on his smeary approach to the portrayal of trees, though I alsohave to admit that an Italian oil for c. 1840 had all the sketch-like vitalityof a watercolour by Cotman!

It is difficult to retexture therevolutionary nature of many of the paintings – especially when all thesecanvases are framed with such portentously ornate gilding! We do not now see the odd industrial chimneyas an astonishingly outré aspect of a “pretty” landscape; we fail to find theodd shapes of Degas paintings and he cut-off figures as bizarre; Pointillistand other colour experiments are seen as decorative rather than dangerous!

The painting I would most like to havestolen was by Lautrec” La espera” from 1888, a deceptively simple work of aback view of a young woman sitting at a circular table with a glass in front ofher. Her head is turned slightly to theright and she has a certain world-weariness which is always engaging inLautrec’s work. The composition of thepiece is exceptional with a contrapuntal movement of geometric forces giving adynamism to the painting where the point of eye contact of the young woman withthe viewer seem immanent.

There is a Daumier, a Fantin-Latour, acouple of Tissots and a scattering of Major Names to keep any art watcherhappy.

This is an exhibition well worthvisiting. And, at the moment, theexhibitions in La Caixa are still free. Long may it continue!

“The Book Thief” by Markus Zusak is nowread. A book narrated by Death about ayoung girl fostered in war time Germany and lined to the position of Jews inthat disastrous time should have been more disturbing than I found this book.

At times the technique overtook the storytelling and I found myself admiring the style rather than the content. It is always a problem when dealing with thehorrors of World War II and the Final Solution that the subject matter is morepowerful than the author is capable of making the slant that he is adopting forhis story line.

There were (I discovered) two pages ofadulatory comments from magazines from around the world at the start of thebook, but I cannot be as enthusiastic about it. There were moving and stimulating parts to the novel but it left meessentially dissatisfied.

Tomorrow Toni is going to cook his firstpaella.

At last!

2012-01-27T22:35:00.000Z

A colleague of mine is returning to the UKtoday to visit his parents and, as the common courtesy of these trips demands,he asked me if there was anything from the UK that I wanted him to bring meback. And there was nothing.

It makes you think that an entire culturethat has nurtured me for a vast number of years has nothing to offer! I spurn Marmite as I would a rabid dog; teabags of the correct British quality are readily available in many supermarketshere; I have The Guardian sent to my iPad; I cannot eat a whole Cadbury’s creamegg, and rain I can do without. So whatis there left?

The weekend is to be given over to thereading of “The Book Thief” which I have been told in no uncertain terms isboth very good and will make me cry. Ihave read the first twenty or so pages and I am less than impressed. The novel seems affected and meaninglessly tricksy– but it is early days and a few hundred pages to go. I will reserve judgement. In so far as I have ever done that!

An early night to be up bright and earlyfor Culture tomorrow.

Exams - now it's personal

2012-01-26T21:42:00.000Z

A day of franticmarking: every moment an opportunity to bring out the red pen and make marksresulting in wholesale failure for my pupils! Half the class have failed to reach the magic five out of ten whichindicates a pass. Ah well.

The days are slowlyslipping away and bringing us nearer to the week when the greater part of theschool will disappear on the trips leaving we stay-at-homes to the quietmajesty of an empty school. Well, emptyas far as the secondary section of the school is concerned. The other sections of the school may or maynot be functional and we may or may not be required to do “something” in otherparts of the school to compensate for the fact that we are still in situ!

This has been ahard week as (and I’m not alone here among my colleagues) we are all looking theworse for wear and are all, without exception, tired. I at least can look forward to a lessstressful week, though our school has a Puritanically vindictive system whichwants no one to escape for any misery going: what’s discomfort for one must bediscomfort for all!

At least I have anart gallery to visit this weekend and a new book to read as well.

A day to go and anearly finish.

Only Wednesday!

2012-01-25T23:00:00.000Z

At last, something vaguely cultural andexpressive to do rather than the arid intellectual wasteland of marking.

After the well paced and high tensionmeeting with Suzanne last night I ended up with something practical to do and,with my later than usual start this morning I was able to get a draft of “mybit” done by 9.55.

I had to produce a short piece of writingfrom the point of view of the shark in “Jaws” as we are asking the kids as partof a week of project work to “Give the Baddies a Chance!” and consider whatextenuating circumstances there might be for some of the villains that the kidsknow and love.

My suggestion that we use the character ofSatan from “Paradise Lost” and assume ourselves to be, to misquote Blake’sfamous statement about Milton being “of the devil’s party with knowing it” –it’s the knowing part of our kids’ journey which is the important part. Anyway, the first draft of what I had toproduce is now done and dusted and I await suggestions from my colleagues tomake it more kid-friendly.

Today has been a tiring day and I fullyintend to have an early night tonight.

Tentative arrangements have been made for avisit to the Impressionist Exhibition in Barcelona on Saturday and then it isonly a few days to the next opera in the Liceu. Back on cultural track.

My anti or popular cultural appetite isgoing to be fed by the same student who loaned me the Tom Clancy book. He excitedly informed me today that hisfather had all the known novels of this writer and was more than prepared toshare such riches with me. I told him toask his dad to think about a novel whose subject matter and style was asdifferent as possible from the one I have read. That should give him some pause for thought. My pupil is still astonished that an 800 pagenovel should only take me a couple of days to read – but to be fair to him, heis reading the novel in a foreign language. And he is only twelve!

After the tension of the Cardiff City gamelast night going to penalties, we now have Barça playing Real Madrid for aplace in the semi-final of the Copa del Rey – the Spanish equivalent of the FACup.

The first minutes of the game had RealMadrid dominating with a missed chance for a goal within 11 seconds! Chances came and went for Real Madrid withone spectacular shot from Ozil bouncing off two sides of the goal, but notgoing in. It was Barça who scored. Twice. The aggregate score is now 4-1 – but there is still half an hour togo. The last two evenings have beenundeniably tense with some heart stopping football being played. And the score is now 4-2 with Real Madridcreeping back into the game with twenty minutes to go! Now 4-3! Toni has gone quiet and there is far too much time left if Real Madridare going to make realities of all the chances that they are likely to get!

The quality of the television transmissionthat we are getting has suddenly deteriorated and so the tension is made muchworse because we are not getting continuous picture and the pictures we doeventually get are more impressionistic than precise and our frustration ismounting! The picture has now becomemore Fauvist than Impressionist – more visually dramatic but we would rathersee a more prosaically coloured game!

I now have another set of papers to mark(this is an example of frustration displacement thinking!) but I hope to getthose out of the way tomorrow as long as I keep out of the way of knee-jerkmanagement coping with staff absence. And I know that at least one member of staff is not going to bethere. Cave!

We are now in extra time, the score still4-3 and Barça have failed to capitalize on a real opportunity. The seconds are passing very slowly and thegame is degenerating into vicious playacting. The sooner this is over the better!

And it is. And we’ve won. Thank god!

Job well done!

2012-01-24T23:21:00.000Z

I am at presentsuffused with the warm glow of self-satisfaction brought on by a spate ofmarking completed before the official start of my day.

There is somethingto be said for traffic congestion, as I have to leave my house at an ungodlytime and get in to school ridiculously early because if I leave any later Iwill get caught up in the transportation meltdown which is rush hour inBarcelona.

This means that aswell as having a reasonably leisurely cup of tea I can also prepare for the dayahead. And I have even marked a classset which doesn’t need to be done today! Preparation indeed!

Added to the sixperiods that I teach today is a meeting immediately after school. O Joy! Though in defence of the chair of our meeting, Suzanne is one of the fewpeople I have ever known who keeps to the official time limits set down andkeeps the pace of the meeting going. There is always more to do at the end of these meetings, but this is onewhich I do not resent with the bone deep hatred that usually accompanies myother attendances and meetings whose fatuity can only be appreciated by othercynical professionals!

Four of my sixlessons today have now been taught and only the last two, set firmly in theafternoon remain. These two lessons area hard slog for teacher and pupil alike and so I have devised the savingstrategy of splitting the long, long class into a classroom section and thenthe latter part in the computer room with the kids doing research whicheventually results in a single page of black and white print and pictures. Which I then mark. Clean and efficient. In theory.

Theories continueto proliferate about what exactly is going to happen to our pay in the next fewmonths. All the fervid speculation islaced with despair as the futility of action is considered. One feels slightly miffed that Spain does nothave the same tradition of futile (but glorious) or glorious (but futile)opposition that seems to run like a twisted thread through the history oflabour relations in the UK.

It seems almostinevitable that our wages are going to be cut; by how much and when is thepoint of discussion – but not what we should do or be doing as a response tothis action. The fatalism is almosttangible and blunts the edge of my dissatisfaction. The Unions are weak and in my place of work“unobtrusive.” People are too concernedwith their jobs to voice an opinion about Unions let alone claim to be a memberof one. With the shining exception ofmyself. Though even I keep a fairly lowprofile.

The establishmentof a working Union group within the school with official negotiating rights issuch a complex and soulless process that it is unlikely ever to be instigatedby the workers here!

I should imaginethat there are many potentially active union members ploughing a lonely furrowand wonder just what sort of crisis will have to have before it ferments someradicalism. I fear that question isgoing to remain rhetorical for some time to come!

As if to emphasisethe lowly position of teachers here have, I return home after a meeting afterschool lasting over an hour. I arrive atnight and today I return at night.

As is usual Ileave the meeting with more work to do, a feeling of mild resentment and astrong desire to get a cup of tea at home as compensation.

Tomorrow isWednesday and the official tipping day of the week when, in the afternoon, wecan consider ourselves on the home straight to the weekend.

There is anexhibition in Barcelona of Impressionist painting that I am ashamed to say Ihave not yet seen. I shall rectify thisomission this weekend – and have a quick look at any sales that might still begoing.

Needs must!

Mondays!

2012-01-23T22:56:00.000Z

Our barbecue on Sunday seems to have hadsome unfortunate after effects with a spate of tummy-trouble. I remain staunchly un-tummy-troubled - though,were I to be severely truthful I might say that things have not been entirelyuneventful since being adversely affected by a rogue member family!

But enough of that.

We are getting contradictory rumours of howmuch and when our political masters are going to cut our wages. The reality of harder times ahead areadmitted by all, but the mechanics of how we are going to be penalized for notbeing self satisfied, amoral, money grubbing bankers has not yet been revealedto we mere mortals.

On a more practical level I have been toldthat I have to fit in with the system in schools to ensure that I get a payrise for long service. After a certainnumber of years (5 or 6) teachers are entitled to a wage increase – only if theindividual teacher has amassed the correct number of points. These points can be gained for things likeattending courses; being a form teacher and other things of that sort.

I have been told that one sure way to getthe correct number of points is to take a language course – in English. I have been told that the way that the systemworks I can take an examination for “Intermediate English” and get the pointsin spite of the fact that I am an English teacher and therefore presumably at asomewhat higher level than the examination. I could do courses in something else, but that would mean that I wouldactually have to go to classes, whereas this way all I have to do is theexamination. It is not educationallysound, but it ticks the boxes and is acceptable. It’s a scam, but a scam which seems to begenerally accepted. Application is nextmonth. I shall consider my options.

People are tired in my school and many ofthem must be dreading the forthcoming “holidays” when many of them will be offwith the kids on trips and my poor old colleagues will only have an extendedweekend to recover before the long haul to Easter.

Bless books!

2012-01-22T20:39:00.000Z

Let’s face it; however much I try and kidmyself, the early mornings as I stagger from my bed and throw water at my bodyare still dark. I am going to school duringthe night. The only positive aspect ofthe day is that in this country the days are usually bright and sunny.

This winter has been out of the usual inthe number of sunny, rain-free days that we have had. Cold it may be – but dry it certainly is.

The goods delivery companies are crap inthis area. And I think that that word istoo mild to describe their actual attitude of cavalier disregard for theprimary aspect of their bloody existence – that of delivering the packages.

Thanks to the tracking system in Amazon Ican at least tell when a package has been handed over to the local deliveryservice. This is just as well because our local delivery service does notregard the final part of the journey of any parcel as being theirresponsibility.

I now no longer (obviously) lose my temperwhen I have to go to the delivery office to get my package. And there is always something delightful ingetting a book which tempers my fury.

The most important part, at leastpotentially, in the items to be sent to me this time around was the dog zapper.

I have now used this machine on a number ofoccasions and I am pleased to report that there is a definite diminution in theirritating barking from the moronic mutts next door.

I have adopted the strategy of creepingdownstairs when the hounds are howling, opening the door as silently aspossible, creeping up on the dog and then after a brief “Ssssh!” zapping thedog. There is an appreciable negativereaction when, after zapping the caterwauling crippled cur he dragged himselfto another part of the garden. I haveabsolutely no sympathy for this Heath-Robinson canine catastrophe, as his barkis the most irritating that our terminally insensitive neighbour keeps in herpersonal menagerie. I followed him and,as he failed to quieten I zapped him again. Silence! Delight! It works!

Unfortunately it only works over shortdistances so my overly optimistic of pointing it through walls and windows andgetting a response have not been realized. Still the fact that there is a clearly silent reaction makes the machineworth the money I paid for it. Sofar. I only hope that familiarity doesnot breed barked contempt.

I have now read “Red Strom Rising” by TomClancy and I have to admit that I thoroughly enjoyed it. This novel was first published in 1986 and itis astonishing how far the political situation of the world has changed!

The premise of the novel is that anextremist Islam strike on a crucial oil installation in the Soviet Union soweakens the fuel supply of the country that the Politburo instigates an attackon NATO as a means to securing the Middle Eastern oil fields.

How much has changed! The USSR doesn’t exist. Where is Communism nowadays? The corrupt Politburo has been replaced byeven more corrupt oligarchs and their cronies. Germany is not divided. Thepuppet states of the Soviet Union are, well, different. The world of 1986 is clearly not that of2012.

But as a futuristic historical novel itreally works quite well. I have no ideaif any of the technical information is even remotely correct but it soundsconvincing and it gives a verisimilitude to the writing which is safelyexciting.

The course of the “war” is described incompelling detail and the emphasis placed on the submarine aspect always givesa claustrophobic excitement to death.

The personalities of combatants play theirpart in the development of the plot and there is even some subdued loveinterest.

Clancy is a safe pair of hands and he is amore than competent storyteller. I foundsome parts of the 800-page narrative to be compulsively page-turning. But what we have lost (thank god!) is thesense that the events in the novel could be all-too-true. The battle is fought with conventionalweapons which in spite of the technology used makes the novel even moreold-fashioned and something not a million miles from one of the spate of WorldWar II novels.

When nuclear weapons are finallyconsidered, they form an exciting part of the end-game of the novel itself.

I liked reading this novel, but it isfirmly in the class of something which I will never read again! I also feel that I have also experienced theClancy formula and the next volume might be strangely familiar! As I haven’t read any other book by him thisis patently unfair, but that doesn’t stop my believing it!

This weekend has been largely defined byfood and reading. The reading hasincluded not only my trashily enjoyable novel but also by new art books whichare a continuing delight and something I will certainly look at again andagain.

The food has been home and away. Our regular visit to the restaurant of theretired folk provided me with one of the best meals that I have had there. Sea food stuffed eggs covered in cheese as astarter and one of my favourites, arroz a la cubana, another starter but chosenas my main course: simple and delicious.

Sunday saw the arrival of The Family and abarbecue with another of my favourites, calçots. You may get filthy eating these leek-likebarbecued onions but laced with the traditional sauce it is all worth it!

I have done nothing of the school work thatI might have done but, given my timetable I do feel that if something cannot bedone in school time then it simply cannot be done.

Next week sees the start of yet another batchof examinations but the week after that will be a week when most of the schoolwill not be there, as they will all be off on trips. As I “do not do trips” I will be one of asmall number of secondary teachers still in school.

There are the usual threats that we will be“helping” in another part of the school but, as I have pointed out of any whowill listen, my official designation as signed, sealed and delivered by theDepartment of Education in Madrid, says that I am qualified to teachsecondary. There is nothing there abouthelping colleagues in the foetal section of the school in my contract.

It is pointless getting upset about thesearrangements because there are still a couple of weeks to go and there is timefor a few more plans before the date when they are supposed to takeeffect! This I know from hard pastexperience in this country. Long termplanning here means 24 hours before!

So two more weeks to a pause of sorts; adifference in the routine and one day off on the Friday of that week. What I should do is look at flights and see ifI can take in the Hockney show in the Royal Academy. In fact I will do that now.

Well, I won’t be going to London during thelong weekend! The prices were a littledepressing.

Back to the drawing board.

Where is the summer?

2012-01-19T15:15:00.003Z

For the first time this year my carinformed that there was “A danger of frost” because the temperature was down to4°C. This was a reading which gradually increased as I travelled furtheruphill – which seems just a little counter intuitive but it is whathappened. It is now a bright and sunnyday, though still cold.

As with Britain, it is easy to get to likecold, bright days, as there is a sort of invigorating clarity about them whichis good for the soul!

It is now ten in the morning and I havealready taught two periods! Time for acup of tea using the last British tea bag that I have in this staff room. Luckily I have supplies hidden elsewhere sothat my addiction can be fed. Replenishing supplies is also easy as the majority of the largersupermarkets not only stock their own etiolated versions of tea bags but alsothe true British types as well. The onlything (and it is a big ask) that I have to do is remember to call in on my wayback home.

This might be difficult today as I amexpecting books and a dog disturber. Both create in my their own particular excitement, I only hope that Toniis able to convince the recalcitrant delivery persons to accept him as me sothat they part with their precious cargo. In spite of the last consignment being delivered absolutely according toinstructions with the suggested date being the actual one, I am still somewhatprejudiced against the whole breed. Iarrived home yesterday to find that the Spanish postal service had “failed” todeliver a registered letter at a time when Toni was in and waiting. Too often in the past the delivery peoplepost a “failed delivery” notice into the post box because they cannot bebothered to wait for the recipient who might possibly not be there so they don’tbother to ring and merely place the notice in the post box.

This is a “bad thing” for many reasons notleast among them the horrible fact that one then has to visit the Post Officeto get the item. Waiting at our localoffice would test the patience of a saint and I am no saint. However if we go into town this evening Imight still have sufficient residual enthusiasm and patience to try as I attemptto slope away early on a Thursday and therefore miss the static line of badtempered, parent frustration-fuelled traffic which makes leaving school such ajoy.

During odd moments, when I should probablybe doing something else, I ponder on the strategies I am going to use tofrustrate the knavish curs next door from voicing their opinions throughincreasingly irritating barks. I wantthese low-life mangy mongrels to associate me and my voice with discomfort andunease and stop their noise.

Reading through the reviews of the machinethat I have purchased I am bemused by the range of stars given which rates themachine as “excellent and effective” to “don’t waste your money”. I am relying on the fact that the moredismissive reviews are a result of people expecting the machine to work in verymuch the same way as a light sabre! Ithink that the trick is persistence and association: my face and voiceassociated in the dogs’ minds with some sort of unpleasant sonicsensation. At least, this is what I amclinging to and I will hope for the best.

I am just about to do two more lessons andthat will take us up to lunch; one more after lunch and then freedom – moretime to enjoy the books which I am now assuming have already arrived at homeand are waiting to be unpacked. Theunpacking is a large part of the excitement of reading for me nowadays as mostof my books come through the post.

My copies of The Guardian come directly tomy iPad and I am not sure how I like reading a newspaper in this format. In one way it is easy because I do nothingand there is the paper waiting for me each day. I have the old copies saved in the machine and there is the addedadvantage that Internet links are provided with many of the stories so that youcan study the topics in more depth. Evenwithin stories there are often links on which you can click to give added depthto your reading. It is convenient and Ifind that I now tend to read the paper through from one end to the other,flicking through those articles which are incomprehensible or unpalatable! I have taken out a subscription on amonth-by-month basis that will show me whether or not I am getting value formoney. Which is another way of asking ifI have read the thing during the month.

I am going to have to get into the rightframe of mind to use the iPad for what it was intended – and bringing me TheGuardian was, I am sure, what Steve Jobs had in mind when he caused it to bedeveloped.

I have now discovered that the books that Ihad ordered have not arrived. However,on checking on the web site I have also found that there was a “deliveryattempted” yesterday. No slip was leftand I am sure that Toni was actually there. This is the second time that MRW (the carrier) has signally failed todeliver items that were in stock. Itmeans that I now have to go into the centre of town and try and find a parkingspace in cramped and overfull streets. It is irritating, to put it mildly as the packages are hefty art bookswhich weigh a ton! Perhaps that was alsothe feeling of the delivery men who couldn’t be bothered to heft them and wouldrather wait for an exasperated customer to come in and take them off theirhands.

I hesitate to complain because I fear thatthis appalling service will get even worse if they know that I am one of thosedifficult customers who likes a delivery service actually to deliver to the addresson the package! It is far too easy for adelivery man to throw something over the wall (which they have done in the caseof a camera) and however well a big book is packaged there is bound to bedamage when a book lands on a corner. Iwould rather go get than have to go through all of the hassle of sendingsomething back.

Alternatively I could develop mycomplaining to the level that I get known as a “difficult bastard” and theydeliver properly just to avoid the repercussions of a middle class man knowinghe is right!

Self-indulgence!

2012-01-18T23:03:00.000Z

Today I made a conscious decision to stayin bed for fifteen extra minutes. Theamount of sheet guilty pleasure that one gets from staying in bed when oneshould have got up is out of all proportion to the relatively short period oftime spent lazing.

It may just be self-delusion but I thinkthat the mornings are getting lighter. Giving that it is still January, I think that I probably am deludingmyself, but it makes getting up in the almost totally dark better than gettingup in the absolutely totally dark!

More examination papers arrived magicallythis morning and had to be marked and the results entered. At present all the rest of my colleagues nowhave their share of the marking and are busily scribbling away draining theirpens. I try and look concerned and as ifI too have a heavy load to complete – just in case I am roped in to help!

I have done some work for the “anti-hero”project that we are supposed to be devising for the kids to complete later thisyear. I must admit that I got the greaterpleasure in designing the front cover for the work than for the run-of-the-milltasks inside. That is somewhat unfair asthe basic task (decided after a ten minute meeting) is interesting.

Well, the draft of the work is done and isavailable for discussion and alteration. The important thing is that we do actually have something to discuss –it really makes all the difference in a meeting called specifically for thatreason!

Frustratingly I have been unable to find anyteaching materials on a Will Smith film (“Hancock” 2008) as this apparently fitsin with our theme. I have seen thetrailer and have been unable to watch the suspiciously home-made copy of thefilm which I have been given. In someways I am quite pleased at that as I shy away from anything other than koshercopies of films. But it does mean that Iam attempting to write a teaching and learning guide to a film that I haven’tactually seen!

As I type Real Madrid are starting thesecond half of the Copa del Rey match against Barça one goal up. Toni is wearing his Barça shirt andlistlessly fingering his Barça scarf and muttering imprecations against theReferee. He is watching the match on acomputer generated stream which is constantly stopping and, even when it isgoing well produces a rather more impressionistic view of the field than mostfootball fans like to see.

The frustration that Toni must be feelingis extreme as Barça were taking a corner and the whole screen froze and thenext time we saw a moving picture it was of a Barça celebration from a Puyolheaded goal. So we are now 1-1 withBarça having got an away goal of course, which could be significant in thesecond game when Barça will be at home.

And I can’t believe that I am actuallytaking an active interest in the outcome of football game!

On a more cultural level, my next Opera isat the end of the month and I am feeling guilty that I have done nothing tolearn more about the work though there doesn’t seem to be a recording of it,apart from a vastly expensive film version of Blu-ray DVD which I am notinclined to buy. So I am likely go tothe performance of Il burbero di buon core (The Good-hearted Curmudgeon) byVincent Martín i Soler unprepared and untutored having heard not a single noteof the piece. Apparently there is someevidence that the composer challenged Mozart for popularity and Mozart himselfwrote an aria which is included in performances of the opera. At least there should be some tunes in itgiven the period in which it was written!

One disturbing point is that this will afirst performance of Il burbero di buon core by the Liceu. So either this is an unjustly neglectedmasterpiece that has been ignored since the eighteenth century or the Liceu hasdug around in the dusty basket of obscurity in the vague hope that people willthink the expense of a full opera production has not been wasted. I retain an open mind. And eager expectation.

On a rather lower level of culturalactivity I have been given “Red Storm Rising” by Tom Clancy through thegenerosity of a very sharp lad in my 2ESO. He is reading books which should be beyond his level of English but heseems to enjoy them and this is the second book which he has wanted me toread. I have to admit that an 800 pagenovel is not something which I need deflecting me from the work I should bedoing – but I was unable to resist and it is lurking on the table in front ofme, a red temptation.

And now Barça have won 1-2 away and so arewell placed for the second game next week.

And now an early night because staying inbed tomorrow is not an option as I have an early start.

Only Tuesday!

2012-01-17T23:05:00.002Z

After two days of rain (almost) the sun hasreasserted its primacy and come back to the benighted lands of Catalonia andrestored my faith in my present location.

These moments to finger my keyboard havebeen snatched at the fag end of the lunch hour before my double class with theequivalent of Year 9 for Media Studies.

The only way in which this unreasonableamount of continuous time at the end of the day can be justified is by mysplitting the class into two with the second part held in the computer roomwhere the hapless pupils can do some research.

Today I launch into Maslow’s Needs whichwill be illustrated by the kids using the Internet to find an advert example tofit each. I imagine that I am going tobe running around like a thing possessed attending to the linguistic needs ofmy pupils as they attempt to match words and illustration!

Which is what happened – but it’s betterthan teaching in a classroom for two solid periods in the afternoon!

Calling in to a supermarket on the way homeI signally failed to find a small carafe but I have bought a rather tastefulsmall, glass jug which will serve the same purpose. I hope.

Today has been tiring and unsettling as thebloody alarm did not go off and I stole an extra fifteen minutes in bed – for whichI paid by cutting my chin while shaving in a hasty way trying to make up losttime.

So today bed betimes in the hope thattomorrow will not be so exhausting.

A weak week!

2012-01-16T22:36:00.000Z

Yet again, as is so often the case in thisplace, I am stuck in front of a class watching the little heads of the pupilsbent over yet another examination paper. The only good thing about this is that I have completed my marking so Iwill have to keep out of the way of my colleagues who, from today are going tobe involved in all the other papers. Ionly hope that they do not expect any disinterested help from me because I willgive them exactly the same amount of aid that I have been given on my lonely vigilploughing through hundreds of scripts – none!

Admittedly my marking has not been much ofan intellectual endeavour as I have been checking optical mark sheets so smallpencil filled brackets are swimming cross my line of sight and I am sure thatthey will haunt nightmares for some time. But my work is done.

Well, not quite. I have all the results and they now have tobe entered on mark sheets so that the overall mark for the mock examinationscan be calculated. That, in itself is notdifficult, what is more taxing is trying to fill in the last few marks forwhich the examination papers will, inexplicably have gone missing. Or it might be that some of the pupils hadthe poor form to be absent on the day the examination was set. This means that over the next week or so Iwill be suddenly given odd examination papers for which I will have to find themark scheme.

But I am too old a hand at this to let suchconcerns phase me. Safe inside aspecific folder are all three of the marking stencils (of my own design) whichwill ensure that any extraneous papers can be dealt with in a swift andsatisfactory manner.

I am desperately trying to get everythingtidied up and done before the original folders of my marked work are swamped ina deluge of folders for the other papers. Getting the entire school through a mock examination at three differentlevels is a logistical exercise of frightening proportions and there will beadministrative and examinational mishaps that will induce the fearful anarchythat sometimes seems to power this place!

My normal class marking can now be dealtwith and I should be able to gasp a partial sigh of relief before the nextinternal examinations start – next week! You couldn’t make it up!

At least we are over half way through themonth and getting nearer to the “Trip Week” in early February. I do not “do” trips so I will remainingfirmly in Catalonia while my colleagues roam far and wide visiting places asfar apart as The Isle of Wight and Cantabria. Good luck to them. At least inour school teachers who accompany trips are paid extra. Not enough, but extra.

There are teachers other than myself whoare left in school and we will be expected to come to school and do“work”. As far as I can remember we areallowed to leave at lunchtime and we can all look forward to a “puente” as wehave the Friday of that week as an Occasional Day so have a three-dayweekend. Thank god for small mercies!

After this small break, with only one dayas a real holiday, we only have one other day off until the Easterholidays. That is going to be a hardslog.

Day by day.

What weekend?

2012-01-15T21:01:00.002Z

Anotherlie-in! Such criminal indulgence. But not for long.

Up and doing gaveme time to read “The Week.”

Usually thisinestimable publication arrives well after the week that it is supposed to beabout, this in spite of the “Time Sensitive” inscription emblazoned on thefront of the postal package.

Today, however, Iread it on my iPad and so was able to enjoy something electronically that wasmore closely related to the actual date. I think it makes sense to continue my subscription to the electronicversion rather than the wayward print version.

It is a sign ofage or something that, for the last week I have been wearing a jumper. A jumper! A man renowned for wearing shorts through the hardest winters inCatalonia, reduced to espousing the apparel of the elderly! I now wear a scarf. I put my coat on when I move from building tobuilding. It is a sad development in thestory of my erstwhile hardiness that I have descended to such namby-pamby coveringsin my day-to-day existence!

At long last Saleshave hit Catalonia and the shops in our local centre were packed with spenders(apparently untouched by any concept of Crisis) and so I was able to boost mycollection of jumpers at purchases at half price.

I would imaginethat, having bought (pure wool) jumpers there will now be a heat wave inSpain. I look forward to it.

In the way thatone does, I have done nothing in the way of school work that I should havedone, and there is no health in me (as the Prayer Book has it) and I am surethat I will regret my indolence during the rest of the week, but there again,who cares. Next week is going to be acontinuing horror of marking so I may as well throw in the stuff that I haven’tdone with the rest of it so that I “get in the groove” and won’t really noticeat all. That sort of logic has made mylife difficulty in so many ways in the past!

I have had variousconflicting dates from Amazon about when my various purchases should arrive,but the consensus that I have gleaned from the series of emails that I havereceived is that next Thursday will see everything that I have ordered arrivein god knows how many parcels.

In the way thatthese things happen, the dogs next door have been suspiciously muted in theirbarking almost as if they know that their electronic nemesis is about to arriveand make their miserable lives just that little bit more eventful.

I must admit thatmy faith in the efficacy of the dog repellent/bark stopper machine that I havepurchased is limited but, in the immortal words of that centre of philosophicalenlightenment, Tesco would have it, “Every little helps”. As long as the ultrasonic whine is enough tounsettle the dogs as they bark in their untrammelled way and give them at leastsome sort of pause for thought then I will be satisfied.

At the moment whenthe noise of their moronically insistent barking finally frays my nerves pastbreaking point I open a window and hiss a sharp “shush!” by emphasising the“sh” part in the same way that I have heard Catalan teachers quietenpupils. Though I have to admit that asthe teachers who do this are almost inevitably women, the “sh!” tends to be amore sibilant “sssss!” so that it sounds like the kids are being threatened bya rather insistent snake. My sound tosubdue the dogs is a quite subtle combination of the two sounds.

When I have themachine I will open the window, hiss my hatred at the malevolent beasts andthen follow it up with a blast from the machine. Eventually, I hope that the mere act ofopening the window will cause the curs to slink away into obscurity andterrified silence. Time and goodbatteries will tell!

But enough, I amdetermined to do at least one thing for my “book” before the end of the weekend. Then at least I can go to bed with what I ampleased to call my conscience placated!

Sweet dreams!

A guilty day

2012-01-14T23:50:00.001Z

A disgracefully long lie-in this morning(just morning, but only just) started the day and then I had to balance my fearthat I had wasted precious free time with my conviction that after a first weekback at school such indulgence was more than justified.

After a cup of tea I leapt back into myweighty tomes of art history and soon lost myself in a thoroughly delightfulmeander through those areas that I am supposed to be studying and also otherareas that just appeal. For me a wellillustrated book on art has the same disruptive effect on as the Guinness Bookof Records – how can a normal person be methodical when confronted by a bookwhich is packed full of equally tempting distractions.

I am determined to do “something” for my“book” this weekend (mainly because I have marking to do which I probably willnot do because it is boring) and writing something is good and productivedisplacement activity!

Tempted away from my books by the conceptof lunch we decided to go to somewhere where we had excellent value a couple ofmonths ago but today, a Saturday the prices of the menu del dia were about 50%more than for a weekday! We left indisgust.

We ended up in a restaurant near theCastelldefels railway station on the beach. This is at the other end of the town from where we live and therestaurant we went into was allegedly Galician but the waiters appeared to beof Indian extraction, though the food turned out to be impeccably Spanish. The price was good at €11-50 and I was able,after my extended period of nursing and upset tummy, to enjoy, at long lastarroz al la cubana! In something of arice fest I also had paella and rounded things off with tarta Santiago. Excellent value and a place to go back to.

One idea that I will take on board is theway in which they served the wine. I wasgiven a petite carafe of wine which was 25 cl. Given that a bottle of wine contains six glasses (albeit mean glasses)then such a carafe should contain two glasses – which was just the right amountfor a lunch.

I do not want to give the impression thatmy incipient alcoholism has to be kept in check, merely that the 25 cl was anappropriate amount, the carafe looked cute and, if you think about it, it meansa bottle of red will last for three meals at that rate!

This evening (at last) the Christmas treewas packed away for another year. Godknows what sort of bad luck comes with taking decorations down well afterTwelfth Night, but I am prepared to take my chances!

Tomorrow I might consider packing up theNativity Scene which is at present gracing the shelf along the side of thestairs.

Tomorrow.

Marooned!

2012-01-13T20:36:00.000Z

Today has been a day of continuous horror.

Deprivation, sudden, total deprivation issomething which shakes even the stoutest heart. When your fix is taken away what can be the response but anxiety andcomplete disorientation.

I left my computer at home.

It was with sick recognition that I openedmy briefcase and the more I looked for the computer the more it wasn’tthere. I felt bereft. I am used to typing a few paragraphs before Istart teaching and not being able to do so was, ah, unsettling.

On the other hand it did force me to get onwith the mountain of marking which has now piled up. Today two other years sat their mockexaminations today, adding to the already daunting pile which is waiting forme.

In spite of my teaching load today, my lackof computer and pure dedication added together encouraged me to get on with thecompletely unpalatable task and I managed to get two folders of markingcompleted. Admittedly they were verysmall folders of work, but the files that they were placed in were substantialand so it looked as though I had made a real effort and achieved something verysignificant!

I am now left, I think, with six sets ofpapers to correct and then the task of matching marks to names on class sheetsand then I am done. Until the week afternext when the next round of examinations start! Insane!

What isn’t mad is the fact that this isbeing typed on a Friday evening at the start of a glorious weekend. An easy adjective to apply when referring totime spent outside school!

I am gradually getting together the booksthat I will need to write my little reference book about “Making Sense ofModern Art From Fauvism to Pop Art” which is clearly going to be a vanitypublishing scam as far as I am concerned – as long as the school pays for itall! It is the only thing about the restof this school year which really gives me any enthusiasm – it’s a pity thatmere teaching of actual children so often gets in the way of lofty cultural aspirations.

I have looked around at the “books” thatsome of my colleagues have produced for their courses and I think that I canaim to write something reasonably substantial. And of course what worth has an art book without full colourillustrations!

Choosing pictures (and presumably breakingcopyright right, left and centre) is going to be fun. How far is a teacher allowed to reproducesomething like a painting if it is solely for teaching purposes within anacademic institution? I think that Iwill allow that to remain a purely academic question and not seek too closelyto find what will probably turn out to be a thoroughly unacceptable andrestricting answer.

I’d love to produce something full ofclever graphic solutions but I should stay this side of possibility and aim forsomething which is achievable within the restraints of how our school operatesand within the limited expectations of the school – but I have nothing to loseby pushing those limits a little.

I am eating almost normally and lookforward to a weekend when I can partake of our traditional Menu del dia withoutworrying about the gastric consequences. It is a very sad thing to report that a week in school has been moreefficient at restoring a satisfactory state of health that weeks under theministrations of various doctors!

Suzanne is trying to get me to go to herpet herbalist and have a whole assessment so that I can start taking naturalremedies and cut down on the nasty medically approved drugs that I take. I am, understandably I think, rather reservedin my enthusiasm for this project as one always suspects quackery. I have to say though that my experiences overthe last few months or so have not increased my respect for conventionalmedicine much – perhaps it’s time to be tempted by wandering a little closer tothe Dark Side of alternative health approaches. Or not. I am ambivalent. And likely to remain so as I continue to takemy prescribed medication.

As next week is likely to be dominated byfevered marking and equally febrile preparations for the next sets of examinations,I shall begin roughing out the form and possible style for my art book andbegin collating ideas for inclusion. What all this is, is a perfect excuse to luxuriate in sensual pageturning, treating my art books as if they were sumptuous catalogues from whichI can make my selection of desirable art works, pretending that I am orderingthem for inclusion in my own personal imaginary gallery.

I am aiming to get a rough version of thebook ready for the end of this term and have it printed by the end of theacademic year. We shall see.

I also have to get going on the productionof work on the anti-hero. My happywandering in the ways of the Internet a few days ago was not terriblyproductive and, at the same time as the next round of examinations, we haveanother meeting to “finalize” the ideas which, as far as I can see so far, wehave signally failed to come up with yet!

Something else to think about. As indeed in the next opera in my seasonwhich is an obscure Catalan thing for which I have done no “homework”whatsoever. Perhaps it will astonishwith its sheer musicality and originality. No not.

Early night tonight and lie in tomorrow.

Bliss!

Culture Cures!

2012-01-12T23:35:00.002Z

There is nothing worse than finding out,via late planning, that there is not enough time to do something.

I vividly remember devising my “revision”timetable for my final examinations in college and discovering that I had to“do” Jane Austen in the morning of one day and Charlotte Bronte in theafternoon of the same day if everything was to be covered! It made for some fairly hairy, adrenalinboosted learning – and to this day Austen’s novels tend to merge into onegreat, exquisitely written marriage fest.

The latest late planning revelation is thatthe presentations of my Making Sense of Modern Art have to be telescoped into afairly short period of time. A veryshort period of time.

Let me explain.

A normal school timetable is usually builtaround the concept of three terms. Giventhe idiotic way that we have of finding the date of Easter, these three termsare not of equal length but, for general purposes, the year is divided intothree.

I teach a course which is taught threetimes during the year and I therefore assumed (fatal!) that I would be teachingeach of the three groups for a term.

Wrong.

For example: the present term ends with thestart of the Easter holidays on the 2^nd of April, but my second termcourse actually end on the 13^th of February. That is officially, because there is a weekof trips before then starting on the 5^th of February (which is aSunday) so the period of teaching actually ends on Friday the 4^th ofFebruary, or in my case on the 3^rd of February because I do not havea lesson on Friday. So, from acomfortable view taking in April to illustrate all the finer details of thecourse I now find myself trying to cram everything in before the start ofFebruary!

This is my own fault of course becausethere was a single line on one of the many documents I have which told me theessential information about the length of the second term as far as taughtgroups was concerned, but I relied instead on a vague idea of it being sometime in early March to keep me going.

I should follow the lead of Suzanne andmake sure that I have all my lessons dated and planned from the start of theyear! Shame on me!

Next term (oh, how often have I heard allthis before) will be different and I will fill in one of the many forms thatSuzanne has given me so that I will know exactly where I am going in terms ofthe term time!

Meanwhile (and this is to be kept as aclose secret) I have completed the two years Mock Examinations papers that I amsupposed to mark and I am merely waiting for the class lists so that I canenter the marks on the sheets.

Very dangerously I find that all of mypapers will have been sat before the end of this week and, if I keep up myfurious (in all senses of the word) marking rate I should be finished beforethe rest of the Department start on their appointed tasks – thereby making meavailable to “assist” my colleagues in getting the mountain of markingdone. This, with all due respect tooutmoded concepts of Christian Charity, is a bad thing. I am going to keep most mousy quiet about itall and find other places in school to lurk so that my efficiency (in thissingle regard) does not become generally known!

After school to Montjuic and the FundacióJoan Miró for a visit to the exhibition which I declined to pay vast sums ofmoney to go and see when I was in London last. This was a good decision as my teacher’s identification card meant thatI got in free in Barcelona!

The exhibition of an artist who is far frombeing one my favourites, even in terms of Catalan art, was actually quitestimulating. This was not only becausethey had a reasonable selection from Miró’s early paintings, but also becausethere were some startlingly large and effective canvases from his late worktoo.

Although Miró is best known for his Surrealistpaintings and the later Abstract Expressionist productions I was most impressedby the series of paintings centred around his parents’ home in Mont-roig. These are highly detailed and colourfulcanvasses which are representational while the components of the landscapes aresimplified into a series of stylized decorative elements which make thefinished work more closely related to an exercise in graphic design than astartlingly modern exercise in contemporary art.

It is a tribute to this exhibition that itbecomes startlingly clear that although the canvasses became larger and thepainted symbols became more abstract and rough that Miró never lost sight ofhis fascination with the small details which make his paintings almost lapidaryin their effect.

Perhaps this attention to detail can beseen best in the three very large paintings (267cm x 350cm) called “Painting onWhite Background for the Cell of a Recluse I, II, III.” The white painted surface on each painting isonly disturbed by a thin, black meandering line. On two of the paintings the lines roughlydescends from right to left while on the “central” panel the line descends in ajust-off vertical way to a vague hook like curve at the end. To sit on a bench and look at these threewalls is a remarkable experience almost equivalent in power to the Rothko roomin the Tate.

Well worth visiting and a considerableachievement on Suzanne and my part considering this is a Thursday of a weekwhich seems to have been ploughing its painfully slow way along for at leastthe last twenty or so days. And we haveto go in to school tomorrow for an early start. What dedication to culture we both show.

Tomorrow will see the rest of the classestake the papers that I will have to mark, but I will have no time during the dayto get them started so they are going to hang over me during the weekend –because I have no intention whatsoever of bringing the papers home to do.

On another point I have been informed bySuzanne that the new date for the end of my second term class on Modern Art iswrong and that I was right in the first place about when the bloody thing issupposed to come to a conclusion. Backto the drawing board and see what can be salvaged from my re-jigged plans. Can plans be re-re-jigged? And can I pretend that all this chaos isexactly what I had planned in the first place?

One can but try.

At least the weekend is nearer!

2012-01-11T23:18:00.000Z

Another sunny start to a day when I don’tstart teaching until 10 am. This doesnot mean that I can delay my entry as the traffic situation necessitates anearly departure from my home otherwise I would inevitably be monstrouslydelayed by the pressure of traffic. Leaving home is a matter of fine-tuning and minutes make substantialdifferences by the time an intrepid traveller has traversed the desolate abyssbetween Castelldefels and Barcelona!

Our attitude towards the barking, howling,screaming dogs which surround us has now reached tipping point. As a basically “dog” person (yellow Labradorbitch to be precise) I have to keep telling myself that hatred of the dogs isillogical. Dogs bark. Fact. The proper recipients of any loathing, despite and abomination are theinconsiderate semi-evolved owners who think nothing of allowing theircurmudgeonly curs to give full range to their vocal abilities at any time ofthe day and night with no regard to the sensibilities of their neighbours.

My own reaction to the moronic barking ofone (just one of the many that the mad bitch owns) dog next door has promptedus to investigate the proprietary anti-barking products which are available onthe Internet.

My first suggestion was a crossbow, butthat was rejected as impractical because the line of sight to get at the bloodyanimals is not conducive to accurate aiming. This also made my second suggestion of a taser unrealistic as well.

There are a number of versions of anultrasonic repellent/anti-barking device on Amazon, but the customer reviewsgive little or no comfort as to an evaluation of their effectiveness. One particular brand that I looked at hadboth five star reviews and also one star reviews with comments ranging from“incredibly effective” to “absolutely useless” – and with this particular brandnot getting any reviews in between the extremes. These things range in price from €11 to €70but what you actually get for your money is a fairly simple ultrasonic gun. On the principle of “anything is better thannothing”, I am going to invest in one of the cheaper versions and startzapping! I only hope that the dogs havethe capacity to learn that the vague (or even sharp) sense of unease that theyfeel is related to the sound that they are making – and that I am making it!

We have tried complaining to the localcouncil, but nothing really seems to have been done – or, more likely, thebrazen canineophile next door has openly disregarded the justified complaintsof those seeking a quiet, dog bark free life because she obviously has moreregard for our dumb (!) friends than for her human, tax paying neighbours!

I have found it impossible merely to ordera bloody dog disturber and have therefore leavened the order with a few, just afew, art books. Now that I have embarkedon a “book” to accompany my “Making Sense of Modern Art” course, I feel that Ihave EVERY justification in buying any printed matter than I feel might haveeven the most tangentially positive element to help me on my way. I wonder if I can get the school to subsidizemy expenditure in any way.

Pause for thought . . .

Meanwhile school is characterised by yetanother bout of examinations, this time Mock Examinations (how apt is thatword!) which seem to involve the whole of the school. Classes have been disrupted and rearranged,teachers drafted in from other sections of the school to help the Englishdepartment bring misery and despair to the maximum number of pupils and, mostdisturbingly of all – I mark all the Paper 1s that all the pupils sit.

This is not quite as depressing as it mightsound, as the marking is almost wholly mechanical. Indeed in a more perfect world all the paperswould be marked by an optical scanner marker – which in our case we do nothave. The optical scanner marker is me.

To save my sanity I have devised a templatewhich makes life a little easier. I haveattempted to break the back of the burden of marking by trying to get out ofthe way at least one year of papers from the numbers which have been sat today. I have managed to do a little more than thatby getting the second year kids out of the way and getting a section of thethird done too. I have to be carefulabout the speed with which I get these papers done because last year, havingcompleted my apportioned lot I was pointed in the direction of a strugglingcolleague and asked to help with his papers as well! I shall try and keep a low profile!

Tomorrow: marking and culture. I am staying in Barcelona after school andgoing in to the city to visit an art exhibition in the company of Suzanne with,hopefully, dinner as part of the package!

It's never quite as bad - is it?

2012-01-10T21:11:00.000Z

Just when you think that things areestablished in your routine, the school issues you with another timetable andasks you to check that everything is the same because there might be somechanges!

Luckily (!) in my case there were nomovements of classes, so I am stuck with the same bloody awful timetable that Ihave had since the start of the year. But this morning, I hobbled my way to the upper staff room only to bemet by a colleague bemoaning the fact that her timetable had been changed sothat she now has two very early starts and no time at the end of the day forher to have some compensatory time off for the extra time worked! Ah joy!

In a vicious sort of way I find that this timetablinginjustice sets me up nicely for the rigors of a more than full day, much on thebasis that it is not enough that I feel good, someone else has demonstrably tofeel bad. At least my early starts allowme to leave before the official end of school on a Friday when I have a freeperiod. Friday: a day which seems lostin the mists of futurity at this stage of the first week back!

My email account has now been unblockedafter my failed attempts to get Microsoft to respond were augmented by Toni’sefforts on my behalf. Microsoft refusedto send the unlock codes to me, but ten minutes on the computer for Toni and myaccount was magically restored. I havehad to change my password which now at least registers as “strong” on theMicrosoft scale for these affairs and which consequently means that I have anodds-on chance of entirely forgetting the thing.

The teaching day is now over and theheaviest day that I have during the week has at last ended. One feels that the weekend should be uponone, and not three unforgiving days away!

On the health front, at the risk oftempting fate, I have been feeling steadily better. It is almost as if the school has been actingas a sort of tonic. As if!

I had a panicky conversation with one of mycolleagues in the English Department as we discussed with high pitched giggleswork that we have agreed to do for a series of project based ideas to beunleashed on some unsuspecting pupils in the fairly near future.

Our topic, thanks to my big mouth andimpromptu thinking, has to be centred on the concept of the anti-hero and weare supposed to be preparing worksheets or project ideas. I am usually pretty good at this but I havenot really got down to any real work on the subject yet. Though now, having typed something I actuallyfeel like making a tentative step towards beginning to think about making astart.

So, I’ll get on with it while I still havean hour or so of enthusiasm to waste on meandering through the Internet.

The day arrives!

2012-01-09T20:55:00.000Z

The horrible reality of actually being inschool for yet another calendar year is almost overwhelming. Were it totally overwhelming then one couldhide in the collapse that “totally” would ensure but, alas, there is enough ofconscious thought to make the experience truly awful!

Given my health status during the vacation,I feel that I am now entitled to a holiday. Alas, that is not possible and this term is packed with tediouspseudo-teaching which will make the moments pass like eons.

However, that is enough whingeing. At least for today. Unless anything untoward happens. As it bloody well will.

Today, as a welcome back into the swing ofthings, I only have five periods to teach, including a lunchtime duty. Tomorrow I have six periods to teach includinga double period with Year 9 last thing in the afternoon. These first two days are not designed to makeme feel relaxed or in any way jocose about the way the week wags.

This is one of the disasters that startingon a Monday means. I have discussed thiswith a colleague and we have agreed that it would have been “better” to havecome back on Thursday and done an extra two days in a broken week rather thanhave started “cold” with a bleak Monday and with an infinite week ahead withoutrespite. That sort of reasoning is whyno Minister of Education really understands what makes teachers tick.

Our combined wisdom has come no nearer tounderstanding the bureaucratic mind that thought that six separate payments fortwo amounts of money would be a good idea. After the Grand Statement that we would have 80% of our “extra” paymentat Christmas withheld and that we would be taxed on 100% of the payment theGeneralitat backed down and paid everything in dribs and drabs with the lastpayments being banked on the 28^th of December. Merry Christmas!

No one is any clearer about what mighthappen and very few appear to have checked to have seen what actually didhappen to the money that they were supposed to be paid. I am prepared to bet that only a tiny percentageof my colleagues has any real perception of the total amount that they arepaid. This again is a characteristic ofteachers: they don’t know their salaries! But at least in Britain they fight like hell to make sure they get moreof what they don’t know they have!

I had a heartfelt conversation with aPrimary colleague just before I had to do my lunchtime duty and we agreed aboutthe signal evil of doing anything other than augmenting pensions (god blessthem!) and paying them with smiles and thanks. The situation here in Spain is going to get much, much worse when peoplefinally start taking the present economic situation seriously.

As we are in the Euro Zone what happens toGreece is of paramount importance to the financial situation in Catalonia andmore and more of the opinion that I trust seems to be coming round to theacceptance that Greece is a lost cause and it should be forced out of theZone. God alone knows what that will doto the situation here and it is not something which I contemplate with anydegree of equanimity.

There is, however, just one more lessontoday and then home and the possibility of my book waiting for me. Given the awful past record of the carrierthat Amazon entrusts packages to in this part of the world I think I can safelysay that there is no possibility whatsoever of it being there.

Added to that is the trouble stemming fromRobert’s infected email which blighted my contacts list and sent them allannoying scams. My account has beenblocked and the powers that be in the Microsoft world do not seem eager to sendme the code which will unlock my frozen account. Just one thing after another!

Never let it be said that I am not manenough to admit it when I am wrong.

The Modern Art books were waiting for mewhen I got home. They arrived at eighto’clock in the morning – and I therefore take back much of the nastyinsinuations of rampant inefficiency that I was throwing around!

The books themselves are excellent withsome brilliant full-page illustrations of the paintings and some fascinatingphotographs of the artists in situ. Theyare two very hefty volumes and are characterised by the typically superb valuethat the publisher Taschen offers. It isa little too early to evaluate the text, but from cursory reading it does notseem to have the same strength of the pictorial aspect but I have alreadygained a few insights concerning the artists and the movements – and there arehundreds more pages to explore!

It beats teaching!