Time has run out!

The water in the pool this morning was cool. You might call it refreshing or, as I staggered out still sleepy eyed and threw myself in the water, you could call it shocking.


By the time I had done my customary few lengths of breast stroke to acclimatize myself to the water, I found that my goggles were gently leaking. Given that I have not adjusted them throughout the summer this was no major affair and it merely meant that I would have to tighten the straps.


It was at that point that I found out why these Lidl goggles were so reasonable priced.


They have been very serviceable and have been comfortable to wear. They look elegant and have a complex arrangement of plastic parts to ensure that the strap stays in place. A complex arrangement which, I discovered when I attempt to tighten the strap was all dependant on one tiny nub of plastic; which promptly broke, leaving the elegance of the structure something to admire as it was thrown away.

I am not, of course, the sort of person to have only one set of goggles so a replacement was not a problem.


The goggles that I chose had luridly coloured straps (with a very simple fixture to the goggle part) and lenses of a sickly dirty orangey-yellowish sort of colour. The effect was to give my glimpses of the cloud strewn sky the look of the heavens after the Seventh Seal had been opened. Head down and it merely appeared that one was swimming in urine; head up and it looked as though it only needed the Four Horsemen to be heading for me to make the end of the summer complete!


And they are not as comfortable as the last goggles and they make you look like an agency walk-on extra from the set of “Waterworld”: shame if ever there was!


The goggles giving up the ghost on the last day of the holidays seemed like yet another omen or a nice bit of irony!

Lunch in a restaurant we had not previously tried was excellent but the “infusion” I was given which purported to be a “cup of tea” made in the British way with a touch of cold milk was nothing even close to the real thing. It keeps up the sad record of never (not once) having had a decent cup of tea in any bar or restaurant in Spain. The coffee is usually very good, but, if you are British then there are times when only a cup of tea will do. And a proper cup of tea at that. I will not give up, but I have no lively expectation of success.

There is an inevitable difference between the idea and the practical application of that idea.


Garden fences are tricky things in all sorts of ways. One could have the Robert Frost poem in one’s mind about “good fences make good neighbours” and see the building of a new fence or the augmentation of an old one as an artistic affirmation of the power of poetry – or it could just be a desire for a little more privacy.


We are counting the days when our obnoxious neighbours on one side (who think it fun to have an outdoors radio and television on for the greater part of the day and then argue their way into the night) will finally decamp for the city and leave us in relative peace.


The peace is relative because the neighbour on the other side has made me wish for a very localized outbreak of hardpad, rabies and distemper to destroy her barking zoo of misshaped mongrels. I am assuming that the bawling brats in the houses in front of us will be taken back to school in the next week or so.


All of this makes me sound very grumpy, but I have to admit that I have had a great and invigorating time off school and have actually managed to complete some of the tasks (which I am certainly not going to list) which I set myself at the start of the period of freedom that I have enjoyed.


Our attempt to make the fence a little higher was doomed from the start. After an abortive effort to secure the post which was going to carry the wire which was going to support the bamboo which was going to be the new fence we sort of gave up to regroup and find another solution.


The last day of freedom.


I am getting my case together and assembling the books which I will need to photocopy to ensure a smooth start to the term with the pupils next week.


This year should, in a professional sense, be more interesting than last. I will be teaching the history of art; current affairs; English Arts (don’t ask) and my various language classes.


What is going to be interesting is to see how far plans outlined at the end of the last academic year have changed.


What will also be “interesting” is the likely way that the possible future staffing problems that pregnancies are going to cause will be sorted out. I have a horrible feeling that I may be involved in the solution and that believe me, is not good news. Being a class teacher in our school is an involved and language heavy task and not one that I care to undertake. But I get ahead of myself and I should calm down and wait for developments.


Sing ho! for the life of a bear.