The examination I have written (or cobbled together) has been a bit of a nightmare. A copy went into the dark electronic beyond and my remade copy had to be rescued by the safety net program built in to Word. I therefore took the opportunity to send a copy to the head of English `just in case’.
That ‘just in case’ has proved to be good policy as the electronic copy of the paper is on my other laptop at home and not on the portable that I take to school. In a remembered moment of panic, I recalled that I could access my sent emails which would have a copy of the exam that I sent to the head of English. At least that was something that I could do on the ever-hated Hotmail program and I made the dangerous assumption that I would be able to do something similar on the school system.
As luck would have it, it worked so I now have the paper to edit rather than re-type!
It is probably a bad thing to do so early in the week but I am dreading Friday. Why? Because this week does not end on that sacred day; it stretches into the even more holy Saturday. In an access of horror it is also my week to go sailing so Thursday so that will be a long day as well. And there will be the marking which will have to be completed before the Saturday Imposition. O Joy! O Happiness!
A member of the office staff has just asked the people in the staff room if they would continue working if they won the lottery. I asked if it was a rhetorical question.
I think that this week will be a good one to get over. And a phrase (suitably modified) of Basil Fawlty comes to mind: “Don’t talk about the salary!”
I intend to adopt the same strategy that I did with the imposition of Baker Days in schools in Britain and wear jeans and casual clothes to indicate in a strident and yet supine way my opposition to a school that even considers that it has the right to take away a Saturday morning.
I shall leave to one side for the moment the fact that for all of my secondary schooling I went to school on Saturday morning! A state school with ideas above its station from a bygone age does not form a suitable model for a grant aided pseudo private school in Barcelona. And certainly not at the wages that they are paying!
I have no doubt that I shall build to a positive fury by Friday afternoon. Impotent the fury may well be, but the intensity of my aggression will warm my indignation and keep me simmering gently throughout the meeting. I think that I should start planning where we are going to have our Saturday lunch now so that it is something to keep me sane when the conversation in the meeting lapses into Catalan and I am left floundering contemplating the more lurid aspects of my imaginative inner resources!
As I have heard in O-so-many assemblies, “This too will pass!” It is good to get something out of all that time where I was often the only person listening to what was going on!
The decision to go to Britain is now all but made and it has come down to looking at dates and more importantly prices. It looks as though I shall be travelling on New Year’s Day, but that poses no problem as The Family celebrate the New Year with a meal and moderate (British readers should substitute the word ‘laughable’ for ‘moderate’ in the previous sentence) drinking. I will probably be the most sober person on the plane! With the exception of the captain of course. Of course.
As our school holiday extends to the 10th of January I should be able to take advantage of lower prices to complete my trip as British teachers and workers will have been back days before I need to risk life and limb on the chaotic motorways of Catalonia.
It will be interesting to see how far Cardiff has changed given the fact that when I left the centre of the city was looking as though it had been bombed. I am informed that the new-look central shopping area is now open and thriving (though I am not sure that all the shop units have been taken yet – there is a Crisis with a capital ‘C’ after all) and I would dearly like to visit the new library which has at last found a permanent home in a section of a hotel’s car park!
I will also see friends and acquaintances and perhaps have time for a trip up to Gloucester, assuming that my aunt is in situ and not away with her daughter. We will see.
And to hell with the weather!
That ‘just in case’ has proved to be good policy as the electronic copy of the paper is on my other laptop at home and not on the portable that I take to school. In a remembered moment of panic, I recalled that I could access my sent emails which would have a copy of the exam that I sent to the head of English. At least that was something that I could do on the ever-hated Hotmail program and I made the dangerous assumption that I would be able to do something similar on the school system.
As luck would have it, it worked so I now have the paper to edit rather than re-type!
It is probably a bad thing to do so early in the week but I am dreading Friday. Why? Because this week does not end on that sacred day; it stretches into the even more holy Saturday. In an access of horror it is also my week to go sailing so Thursday so that will be a long day as well. And there will be the marking which will have to be completed before the Saturday Imposition. O Joy! O Happiness!
A member of the office staff has just asked the people in the staff room if they would continue working if they won the lottery. I asked if it was a rhetorical question.
I think that this week will be a good one to get over. And a phrase (suitably modified) of Basil Fawlty comes to mind: “Don’t talk about the salary!”
I intend to adopt the same strategy that I did with the imposition of Baker Days in schools in Britain and wear jeans and casual clothes to indicate in a strident and yet supine way my opposition to a school that even considers that it has the right to take away a Saturday morning.
I shall leave to one side for the moment the fact that for all of my secondary schooling I went to school on Saturday morning! A state school with ideas above its station from a bygone age does not form a suitable model for a grant aided pseudo private school in Barcelona. And certainly not at the wages that they are paying!
I have no doubt that I shall build to a positive fury by Friday afternoon. Impotent the fury may well be, but the intensity of my aggression will warm my indignation and keep me simmering gently throughout the meeting. I think that I should start planning where we are going to have our Saturday lunch now so that it is something to keep me sane when the conversation in the meeting lapses into Catalan and I am left floundering contemplating the more lurid aspects of my imaginative inner resources!
As I have heard in O-so-many assemblies, “This too will pass!” It is good to get something out of all that time where I was often the only person listening to what was going on!
The decision to go to Britain is now all but made and it has come down to looking at dates and more importantly prices. It looks as though I shall be travelling on New Year’s Day, but that poses no problem as The Family celebrate the New Year with a meal and moderate (British readers should substitute the word ‘laughable’ for ‘moderate’ in the previous sentence) drinking. I will probably be the most sober person on the plane! With the exception of the captain of course. Of course.
As our school holiday extends to the 10th of January I should be able to take advantage of lower prices to complete my trip as British teachers and workers will have been back days before I need to risk life and limb on the chaotic motorways of Catalonia.
It will be interesting to see how far Cardiff has changed given the fact that when I left the centre of the city was looking as though it had been bombed. I am informed that the new-look central shopping area is now open and thriving (though I am not sure that all the shop units have been taken yet – there is a Crisis with a capital ‘C’ after all) and I would dearly like to visit the new library which has at last found a permanent home in a section of a hotel’s car park!
I will also see friends and acquaintances and perhaps have time for a trip up to Gloucester, assuming that my aunt is in situ and not away with her daughter. We will see.
And to hell with the weather!
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