I pride myself that my digestion is cast iron, copper bottomed and other metallic metaphors redolent of strength and vigour; it was therefore with something approaching positive depression that various ominous gurgling indicated that all was not well.
My unsettled (to put it mildly) evening – a result of unrelieved tension from the meeting called to consider the proposals for the February holiday – was followed by a morning of tentative gastric speculation as to whether my delicate digestive state was sufficiently sturdy to support a journey to Barcelona without an enforced stop. I was particularly conscious that the motorways afforded little convenience (and I do mean that quite literally) if I failed to be content to survey the passing scenery inside the car.
In the event I made it and resolved to take the day lesson by lesson and not make any hasty (or indeed do anything hastily) decision.
As usual the restorative effects of actually teaching came to my aid, and it was only when I was going from one lesson to another that the reality of my parlous situation came forcibly before my attention and I dipped a little. The next lesson, however, saw me revivimus: and so it has gone on for the whole of the day.
This is a single free before my last lesson which has given me time to meditate on my lunch of boiled rice and bland yogurt. I have fortified myself during the day with a couple of cups of manzana tea – disgusting! I sincerely trust that this malady will not last into tomorrow! Especially as I am taking a little wine in the evening!
The story of the new holiday for next year is of continuing interest. As I suspected it might be. The meeting which we had yesterday (yesterday) after school is now obsolete as, seemingly by the hour, new instructions and information are released to a bemused teaching staff.
Nothing as yet has been put in writing to the staff but the situation is fluid and I think that this particular aspect of the calendar for next year will run and run. I confidently expect that we will have a series of revelations about what is going to happen and then we will have a definitive outline of the dates and effects which, I just as confidently expect will have changed when we return in September and will change again by the time of the alleged holiday in late February or early March! “Remember Stephen,” as David keeps reminding me, “this is not Britain!”
Useful advice.
My unsettled (to put it mildly) evening – a result of unrelieved tension from the meeting called to consider the proposals for the February holiday – was followed by a morning of tentative gastric speculation as to whether my delicate digestive state was sufficiently sturdy to support a journey to Barcelona without an enforced stop. I was particularly conscious that the motorways afforded little convenience (and I do mean that quite literally) if I failed to be content to survey the passing scenery inside the car.
In the event I made it and resolved to take the day lesson by lesson and not make any hasty (or indeed do anything hastily) decision.
As usual the restorative effects of actually teaching came to my aid, and it was only when I was going from one lesson to another that the reality of my parlous situation came forcibly before my attention and I dipped a little. The next lesson, however, saw me revivimus: and so it has gone on for the whole of the day.
This is a single free before my last lesson which has given me time to meditate on my lunch of boiled rice and bland yogurt. I have fortified myself during the day with a couple of cups of manzana tea – disgusting! I sincerely trust that this malady will not last into tomorrow! Especially as I am taking a little wine in the evening!
The story of the new holiday for next year is of continuing interest. As I suspected it might be. The meeting which we had yesterday (yesterday) after school is now obsolete as, seemingly by the hour, new instructions and information are released to a bemused teaching staff.
Nothing as yet has been put in writing to the staff but the situation is fluid and I think that this particular aspect of the calendar for next year will run and run. I confidently expect that we will have a series of revelations about what is going to happen and then we will have a definitive outline of the dates and effects which, I just as confidently expect will have changed when we return in September and will change again by the time of the alleged holiday in late February or early March! “Remember Stephen,” as David keeps reminding me, “this is not Britain!”
Useful advice.
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