Wednesday, April 08, 2009

Synonym: Holiday/Rain

The flat now has a veneer of cleanliness to it, it having been chamfered up in preparation for the arrival of the family.

The family, containing as it does one three year old and an unsteady toddler will ensure that any chamfering will be a distant memory within seconds of their arrival!

The weather continues bloody. It rained fairly solidly throughout yesterday and the general appearance of the weather today could be encompassed in the word ‘glowering.’ Although not raining at the moment it certainly looks as though it wants to rain. This is a situation which I remember well and thought was going to be confined to memory rather than experience!

Yesterday saw a friend and I delivering CVs to any building which looked substantial enough to need reasonably literate employees; and a few others which didn’t. I have said that a response rate of one in twenty could be regarded as reasonable. Indeed in El Crisis it might be miraculous, but one must have faith.

We will continue to spread the news of availability this afternoon and will enliven our little jaunt by delving electronically into the murky finances of The School That Sacked Me.

We have had, as they say, certain information (which I am assured is in the public domain) given to us and we now have to work out if there are, shall we say, any discrepancies between what The Owner says is going on in her dysfunctional institution and what is really going on. We can foresee problems with the tabulation of accurate information to double check her figures as record keeping is not one of her strong points. We will have to work backwards from what we know and try and find something which does not fit easily with our knowledge and hope that it is enough to crush her. A fond hope, I know, but nevertheless a hope!

My team-by-adoption has won: one has to take success where one can find it, I suppose.

Barça humiliated Munich in the latest leg of the French version of the European Cup and we watched the massacre courtesy of the large television courtesy of the local corner restaurant in the charged atmosphere which you always get when you are watching Barça play in Catalonia.

This, I suppose is the popular part of my cultural experience as opposed to reading the short stories of Katherine Mansfield. I am reading these stories (‘Bliss and other stories’) on the tail of Kate Chopin’s collection of her novel ‘The Awakening’ with a few other stories. They make interesting companion reads with Mansfield being the more engaging. The Awakening is a compelling story of a woman finding herself with fatal consequences. Although American it is a story which seems particularly European with touches of the frustrating ennui that is so characteristic of the more sombre Russian tales of depression and death! This one is however imbued with an almost savage affirmation of love and life; the tragedy (if it is a tragedy) comes from the impossibility of reconciling individual truth and honesty with the familial and social ties which define so much of life.

Mansfield brings to high significance the alarming reality of the significant detail. Her writing is sure and fluent and she invites the confidence of the reader in her narrative style. To me she seems like the readable version of Virginia Woolf.

Today has been yet another depressingly damp day with the actual precipitation waiting until we set off on part two of the distribution of the CVs. I have a depressing feeling that we will be doing this on my behalf some time after the Easter Holiday.

After many frustrating attempts to print the information about The School That Sacked Me in some usable form, we finally succeeded when the combined technological knowledge of three minds was applied to the problem and one of them suggested a possible solution.

Needless to say that mind was not mine, but, on the other hand, I was the one pressing all the keys!

Gradually the case against the School That Sacked Me grows; but not, unfortunately my confidence that anything will really be done about a glaring instance of educational unfitness for use that the school represents.

I will have to re-inflate my flabby optimism.

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