A bad case of “Centre Point Syndrome” hit me today almost immediately after school this afternoon.
The name of this particular syndrome is taken from the tall and iconic building situated on the Tottenham Court Road in London. It’s height is such that it can be seen from a number of vantage points as your drive towards it but, if you head for it using logic and reason sort then you will find yourself becoming more and more frustrated as any direct approach to this monolith is thwarted by dead ends, closed roads, one way streets and restricted turns. So near and yet impossible to reach.
My object today was the Hesperia Tower in Hospitalet to get a disc drive from the miniscule machine on which I am writing these words.
Having negotiated the motorway writhings which branch off the road I usually take home I soon found myself driving serenely past my destination on the wrong side of a six or seven lane motorway. Nothing fazed I drove on to a familiar exit (to IKEA) and using a frightening roundabout I was able to gain access to an ordinary side road which ran parallel to the motorway and in the direction of the shop.
I drove steadily towards the distinctive building, marvelling yet again at the flying saucer like construction which graced its summit. Then the road curved away from the shop and disclosed the barrier of a railway line.
Following the railway line I found myself on a sort of dual carriageway which was punctuated at irritatingly frequent intervals by sets of traffic lights.
In this sort of urban situation the Spanish put up traffic lights very much in the same way that entomologists set nets under trees in the Amazonian rain forest. As far as I can tell the only function of the lights is to see what sort of motorists they can catch. The lights go red. Everything stops. Nothing. Nothing moves. Nothing.
The light turn green. We all move forward to the next, clearly visible set of red lights, and we all stop again.
I only screamed once and got a rather started reaction from a woman wheeling a baby. Thank god the lights changed and I was able to make a quick getaway from her quizzical expression!
At least I got what I wanted – even if I did managed to leave my wallet in the car and had to retrieve it before I could pay for my purchase.
Now the long and inexplicable process of installing my new toy takes place with successive screens of questions to which I have no reasonable answers except to press the ‘next’ key and hope for the best!
Tomorrow I lose a free period because of the notorious ‘absence known in advance’ of two colleagues now in London. No attempt whatsoever has been made to find substitutes for these teachers; it is simply accepted that other colleagues will cover. Astonishing!
Some of colleagues have voiced the opinion that a union would be “a good idea” but no one seems keen to take up the post of Union Representative and someone said to me that, “You can’t do it. You wouldn’t be here next year!” How unlike the home life of our own dear NUT!
Although I am a member of a union, conversation about such things, although not banned is certainly frowned upon. The logic is that “nothing will be done so there is no point in doing anything.” 19% unemployed also concentrates and contracts the mind!
In spite of everything, as someone remarked today, Wednesday is the ‘hump’ of the week and once it is over then there is a decline to the weekend.
Roll on!
The name of this particular syndrome is taken from the tall and iconic building situated on the Tottenham Court Road in London. It’s height is such that it can be seen from a number of vantage points as your drive towards it but, if you head for it using logic and reason sort then you will find yourself becoming more and more frustrated as any direct approach to this monolith is thwarted by dead ends, closed roads, one way streets and restricted turns. So near and yet impossible to reach.
My object today was the Hesperia Tower in Hospitalet to get a disc drive from the miniscule machine on which I am writing these words.
Having negotiated the motorway writhings which branch off the road I usually take home I soon found myself driving serenely past my destination on the wrong side of a six or seven lane motorway. Nothing fazed I drove on to a familiar exit (to IKEA) and using a frightening roundabout I was able to gain access to an ordinary side road which ran parallel to the motorway and in the direction of the shop.
I drove steadily towards the distinctive building, marvelling yet again at the flying saucer like construction which graced its summit. Then the road curved away from the shop and disclosed the barrier of a railway line.
Following the railway line I found myself on a sort of dual carriageway which was punctuated at irritatingly frequent intervals by sets of traffic lights.
In this sort of urban situation the Spanish put up traffic lights very much in the same way that entomologists set nets under trees in the Amazonian rain forest. As far as I can tell the only function of the lights is to see what sort of motorists they can catch. The lights go red. Everything stops. Nothing. Nothing moves. Nothing.
The light turn green. We all move forward to the next, clearly visible set of red lights, and we all stop again.
I only screamed once and got a rather started reaction from a woman wheeling a baby. Thank god the lights changed and I was able to make a quick getaway from her quizzical expression!
At least I got what I wanted – even if I did managed to leave my wallet in the car and had to retrieve it before I could pay for my purchase.
Now the long and inexplicable process of installing my new toy takes place with successive screens of questions to which I have no reasonable answers except to press the ‘next’ key and hope for the best!
Tomorrow I lose a free period because of the notorious ‘absence known in advance’ of two colleagues now in London. No attempt whatsoever has been made to find substitutes for these teachers; it is simply accepted that other colleagues will cover. Astonishing!
Some of colleagues have voiced the opinion that a union would be “a good idea” but no one seems keen to take up the post of Union Representative and someone said to me that, “You can’t do it. You wouldn’t be here next year!” How unlike the home life of our own dear NUT!
Although I am a member of a union, conversation about such things, although not banned is certainly frowned upon. The logic is that “nothing will be done so there is no point in doing anything.” 19% unemployed also concentrates and contracts the mind!
In spite of everything, as someone remarked today, Wednesday is the ‘hump’ of the week and once it is over then there is a decline to the weekend.
Roll on!
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