The deed is done!
The police have taken down my denunciation of The Owner regarding her refusal to divulge any details of the Readathon.
This time it was the right policemen and after a hesitation about what could be done we were ushered into a small room where details were taken down.
I know it is a truism that as you grow older the police look younger and younger
The police have taken down my denunciation of The Owner regarding her refusal to divulge any details of the Readathon.
This time it was the right policemen and after a hesitation about what could be done we were ushered into a small room where details were taken down.
I know it is a truism that as you grow older the police look younger and younger
but the selection we saw didn’t even look as though they had made it to the sixth form. If it had turned out that Y11 were having a work experience stint in the place I would not have been surprised.
At one point we were joined by our interviewing policeman’s boss wearing plain clothes who looked, if anything, even younger than his subordinate. At this point my translator (one of the lady parents from The School That Sacked Me) hissed sotto voce, “Another pin up!” Whatever their apparent or real ages and their physical attributes they were very helpful and even threw in one or two words of English to keep me happy. The basic denunciation was written and augmented with a cutting detail from the boss, typed, printed, photocopied and stamped.
Now the waiting to see if efficient administration ever translates itself into satisfying action. If necessary I am prepared to supply a Black Maria to take her away!
If nothing else I now have two typed pages of official Catalan to add to the file.
In The Magnificent Ambersons the narrator says, “Something had happened. A thing which, years ago, had been the eagerest hope of many, many good citizens of the town, and now it had come at last; George Amberson Mainafer had got his comeuppance.”
These words came to mind as I visited the local tobacco shop to post a series of letters. Given the way with ‘Johnny Foreigner’ the need to go to a tobacconist for stamps is not regarded as strange and I have come to accept these quaint customs. The letters winging their way to the four corners of Barcelona all contain my CV and are addressed to the various headteachers of educational establishments which might be able to use my pedagogical accomplishments.
I feel it churlish to laze with indolent ease gazing out from the balcony, glass and e-book reader in hand and ignore the effects of the financial crisis which seems purpose made to wipe out all my savings; thus giving the lie to the pernicious doctrine of delayed gratification so beloved of the middle classes.
At one point we were joined by our interviewing policeman’s boss wearing plain clothes who looked, if anything, even younger than his subordinate. At this point my translator (one of the lady parents from The School That Sacked Me) hissed sotto voce, “Another pin up!” Whatever their apparent or real ages and their physical attributes they were very helpful and even threw in one or two words of English to keep me happy. The basic denunciation was written and augmented with a cutting detail from the boss, typed, printed, photocopied and stamped.
Now the waiting to see if efficient administration ever translates itself into satisfying action. If necessary I am prepared to supply a Black Maria to take her away!
If nothing else I now have two typed pages of official Catalan to add to the file.
In The Magnificent Ambersons the narrator says, “Something had happened. A thing which, years ago, had been the eagerest hope of many, many good citizens of the town, and now it had come at last; George Amberson Mainafer had got his comeuppance.”
These words came to mind as I visited the local tobacco shop to post a series of letters. Given the way with ‘Johnny Foreigner’ the need to go to a tobacconist for stamps is not regarded as strange and I have come to accept these quaint customs. The letters winging their way to the four corners of Barcelona all contain my CV and are addressed to the various headteachers of educational establishments which might be able to use my pedagogical accomplishments.
I feel it churlish to laze with indolent ease gazing out from the balcony, glass and e-book reader in hand and ignore the effects of the financial crisis which seems purpose made to wipe out all my savings; thus giving the lie to the pernicious doctrine of delayed gratification so beloved of the middle classes.
Why scrimp and save when criminally inept bankers play fast and loose with money which they don’t have and leave the bourgeoisie gnashing their teeth with impotent rage as they see that Bernard Shaw’s ‘undeserving poor’ have had the right idea all along. When you’ve got it spend it at once otherwise you’ll gain nothing and lose everything.
Now there may be some who say that I have followed the spend it all when you have it assiduously throughout my life and that the only time I saved was when the money was ripped from my salary at source so it was taken away to safety before I could get my sticky fingers on it.
I refuse such base reflections on my preparedness for unemployment with scorn but little ready cash!
I have, therefore resorted to the touting of my CV and am steeled to find that far from urging me to join their establishments I may well be greeted with stony silence and a complete lack of response.
I am, however, shallow enough to take the attempt for the reality and retire to my balcony in the warmth of the October sunshine and feel that I have done my best and wash away any feelings of guilt with a glass of Rioja!
On the new school front our ‘founding fathers’ impulses have been stymied by the lack of a suitable site. Our trawling through the illustrated parades of lies which constitute the web sites of estate agents in this area (any area?) is a soul destroying exercise, but sooner or later we are bound to find something which will be a reasonable base for our little enterprise.
We continue to live in hope!
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