I don’t know why I should feel bitter but I do.  In spite of my experience and my expectations I do.

I probably shouldn’t have crowed about the fact that I have “lost” my second year sixth class and perhaps the inverted commas tell you that any assumed gain is illusory.

Today was my first “gained” period.  And it was duly lost.  I had to cover for a colleague who is absent for the trifling reason that his house has been broken into!

But, even as the anger was rising, behold! a white knight in the form of the head of the sixth form game ambling to the rescue and has taken the class of talkative students (who I had painstakingly reduced to silence) for a discussion about their future studies next year.  I am all for that as long as it gives me extra time away from the students.

Which is hardly the mantra that a teacher should be reciting in what I sincerely hope is the midnight of his career!

Given next year and my supposed participation in the education of the pampered youth in our school, it might be the School of the Midnight Sun for a period but even the Midnight Sun sets eventually!

I am no further forward in my applying for the season ticket for the opera and willingly embraced the preparations for the party which meant that I could not put pen to paper.  I am building myself up to attempt the form’s completion during the weekend when my approach can be lubricated by decent food and even more decent booze!

I can no longer ignore the fact that this is tax paying time.  The onus in Spain is very much on the taxpayer to make sure that the tax is paid and in my case the authorities certainly have not been enthusiastic in getting my forms to me.  One would imagine that such lack of interest on the part of the tax people would be welcomed, but I have been warned by Those That Know that I take such disinterestedness at my peril and it is very much in my interests to ensure that my tax is fully paid.

Last year I made a journey to the tax offices themselves and I ended up (after paying tax throughout the year) owing the tax people money.  Everyone, absolutely everyone I know gets some sort of tax rebate at the end of the financial year. but not, uniquely, me!  Even Toni has been informed that he is entitled to just under two euros as his rebate.

The form also asked him (I assume in a merely rhetorical sense) if he wanted his “rebate” to be donated to the treasury!  Even more amazingly the Roman Church in this country has wangled its way on to the tax form and you can tick a box if you want your rebate to be paid to Papists!  Sometimes a tingle exclamation mark seems somewhat inadequate.

I have more lively hopes for getting some money back this year, but that may merely be a sense of injustice talking!

At the moment the tax people seem to know that a version of me exists but not necessarily with my names in the right order.  They were right last year, but obviously twelve months have caused separation and confusion.  I can see that I will have to pay another visit to the circle of hell which houses the tax offices.  God help!

I have had to dig out my old tax forms and that necessitated a futile search through papers years old, which I no longer need to keep – I can feel an extra addition to the list of tasks for the summer itching to be written!