A kindred spirit!
One of the people I have been writing to actually lives in Sitges and has been following the history of the School That Sacked Me from a parent’s point of view. I feel that at last I am pushing on an open door and that here is an official voice that will welcome more information to the detriment of that dreadful institution. It is a very pleasing period when I actually think that people are listening. Action, however, is the key to my efforts and that will take until the end of the month to show any indication of its presence. I do hope that Spanish bureaucracy is like the mills of god: the slowness is something which is endemic to all governmental departments – it is the ‘grinding exceeding fine’ that I am hoping for!
(And, by the way, who knew that the saying,
“Der gelbe Kern der Erde, das Gold, hat alle Macht,Daß alles sonst für ihme wie Schalen wird geacht.”
The famous part of which can be translated as something like “The mills of god grind slow, but they grind exceeding fine” or some such variation was by (Baron) Friedrich von Logau?
One of the people I have been writing to actually lives in Sitges and has been following the history of the School That Sacked Me from a parent’s point of view. I feel that at last I am pushing on an open door and that here is an official voice that will welcome more information to the detriment of that dreadful institution. It is a very pleasing period when I actually think that people are listening. Action, however, is the key to my efforts and that will take until the end of the month to show any indication of its presence. I do hope that Spanish bureaucracy is like the mills of god: the slowness is something which is endemic to all governmental departments – it is the ‘grinding exceeding fine’ that I am hoping for!
(And, by the way, who knew that the saying,
“Der gelbe Kern der Erde, das Gold, hat alle Macht,Daß alles sonst für ihme wie Schalen wird geacht.”
The famous part of which can be translated as something like “The mills of god grind slow, but they grind exceeding fine” or some such variation was by (Baron) Friedrich von Logau?
And should I have heard of him? Or indeed of his pseudonym Salomon von Golaw? Have you ever hear of him? Truthfully?)
Toni has now succumbed to the suspected virus from the menu del dia and has taken to his bed, not, I might add without having devoured chicken and chips for lunch bleating, “If I don’t eat I will fall over!” My body is much more organized: at the first signs of gastric trouble my brain instructs the body to go to bed when it then closes down all unnecessary functions and goes about phighting phagocytes or whatever corpuscles are supposed to do. When I wake up, usually after a rough day, I am better. Thus it has been and long may it continue!
Sometimes it is just as satisfactory to find that you have discovered nothing new in undergoing an experience but rather have substantiated your prejudices. A man without prejudices is not someone I would like to have a drink with. Prejudice is surely a natural part of life; as natural as lying. If you are capable of forming an opinion or expressing a point of view then you must be acquainted with prejudice.
After all it is perfectly possible to enumerate a convincing list of reasons why it is better to support Barça than Español, but the Barça supporters who I know do not bother to try and convince those who do not share the faith, they merely state what they believe to be true: that support for Barça is a natural state of being - it needs no justification; it merely is.
So the party for the three year old fulfilled all my direst expectations. I was not; it has to be said, at my fittest having spent the entire day lounging in torpor on the bed. This was not merely indolence but an enforced inactivity due to the previous day's menu del dia: the meat balls and cuttlefish in a tomato sauce in particular. We have come to this conclusion as this is the only food which we both ate yesterday and both of us have had gastric consequences.
So it was with the pale strained face of the martyr (Stephen by name, Stephen by nature) that I set off on the trip to Terrassa.
We were the first to arrive and so I was able to claim my corner with no trouble at all and so was partially able to contemplate the future horror with something approaching equanimity.
Presents are a major problem in the modern middle class household with a young child. The concept of 'spoiled' has moved on somewhat since I was the age of Toni's nephew.
The way that I was trained to accept presents from adults no matter what the quality – of adults or presents – is vastly different from that which can be adopted by the modern child. Indifference, boredom or outright rejection are all accepted by adults with an almost apologetic, self depreciatory grin. I would have been whipped until the blood flowed if I had dared express any emotion other than ecstasy on receipt of a gift.
That, I have to say, is not strictly true. My parents were not followers of the Jeroboam school of parenting the, “My father has chastised you with sticks, but I shall chastise you with scorpions” approach. What I got after each and every social interaction was my mother turning to me in the car as we departed and prefacing her comments about my behaviour with, “I was ashamed when you . . .” Now you have to understand that my public behaviour was such that parents today would go down on their bended knees and thank god for such a well mannered child. My politeness frightened people.
When I was still a schoolchild walking down the street in our area a man in a car stopped and asked me for directions. I gave him the necessary directions and he went on his way. The rest of the story I know because he ended up in the house of a friend of my parents where he gibbered out some account of stopping a kid on the road only to be met by an attitude and voice which convinced him he was a clodhopping peasant from another world. In tones of wonder (or using four letter words) he pondered who this paragon of good breeding could be. His description convinced my father’s friend that he knew the child and so they all came to our house where the directed gentleman complimented me on my behaviour but in a way which managed to express his disturbance at the same time!
So I would never have brushed aside a proffered present as Carles did. But, there again, he did have some justification because he was presented with a mountain of presents.
Toni has now succumbed to the suspected virus from the menu del dia and has taken to his bed, not, I might add without having devoured chicken and chips for lunch bleating, “If I don’t eat I will fall over!” My body is much more organized: at the first signs of gastric trouble my brain instructs the body to go to bed when it then closes down all unnecessary functions and goes about phighting phagocytes or whatever corpuscles are supposed to do. When I wake up, usually after a rough day, I am better. Thus it has been and long may it continue!
Sometimes it is just as satisfactory to find that you have discovered nothing new in undergoing an experience but rather have substantiated your prejudices. A man without prejudices is not someone I would like to have a drink with. Prejudice is surely a natural part of life; as natural as lying. If you are capable of forming an opinion or expressing a point of view then you must be acquainted with prejudice.
After all it is perfectly possible to enumerate a convincing list of reasons why it is better to support Barça than Español, but the Barça supporters who I know do not bother to try and convince those who do not share the faith, they merely state what they believe to be true: that support for Barça is a natural state of being - it needs no justification; it merely is.
So the party for the three year old fulfilled all my direst expectations. I was not; it has to be said, at my fittest having spent the entire day lounging in torpor on the bed. This was not merely indolence but an enforced inactivity due to the previous day's menu del dia: the meat balls and cuttlefish in a tomato sauce in particular. We have come to this conclusion as this is the only food which we both ate yesterday and both of us have had gastric consequences.
So it was with the pale strained face of the martyr (Stephen by name, Stephen by nature) that I set off on the trip to Terrassa.
We were the first to arrive and so I was able to claim my corner with no trouble at all and so was partially able to contemplate the future horror with something approaching equanimity.
Presents are a major problem in the modern middle class household with a young child. The concept of 'spoiled' has moved on somewhat since I was the age of Toni's nephew.
The way that I was trained to accept presents from adults no matter what the quality – of adults or presents – is vastly different from that which can be adopted by the modern child. Indifference, boredom or outright rejection are all accepted by adults with an almost apologetic, self depreciatory grin. I would have been whipped until the blood flowed if I had dared express any emotion other than ecstasy on receipt of a gift.
That, I have to say, is not strictly true. My parents were not followers of the Jeroboam school of parenting the, “My father has chastised you with sticks, but I shall chastise you with scorpions” approach. What I got after each and every social interaction was my mother turning to me in the car as we departed and prefacing her comments about my behaviour with, “I was ashamed when you . . .” Now you have to understand that my public behaviour was such that parents today would go down on their bended knees and thank god for such a well mannered child. My politeness frightened people.
When I was still a schoolchild walking down the street in our area a man in a car stopped and asked me for directions. I gave him the necessary directions and he went on his way. The rest of the story I know because he ended up in the house of a friend of my parents where he gibbered out some account of stopping a kid on the road only to be met by an attitude and voice which convinced him he was a clodhopping peasant from another world. In tones of wonder (or using four letter words) he pondered who this paragon of good breeding could be. His description convinced my father’s friend that he knew the child and so they all came to our house where the directed gentleman complimented me on my behaviour but in a way which managed to express his disturbance at the same time!
So I would never have brushed aside a proffered present as Carles did. But, there again, he did have some justification because he was presented with a mountain of presents.
Virtually all of them requiring batteries. He had Mickey Mouse’s House (it’s a modern cartoon thing, nothing to do with the traditional series); Mickey Mouse’s Hand Balloon (see above) and Minnie Mouse from us. He had a dishwasher with lights, sounds and little plates and cups etc. He had a boom box for his mp3s and DVDs. And he is three. I rest my case.What the hell are they going to give him when he is six? Let alone when he is eighteen!
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