Today is the Day of the Course; and I am determined not to be overly cynical. Not overly – but one does have certain standards that one has to keep up and I do not feel inclined to be too sympathetic to a man who is going to encourage me to be self critical when the term is virtually over and all the kids have left.
I cannot imagine that anyone actually wants to be in school and the idea of thinking coherently and theoretically about education is anathema at most times, but at the fag end of the year it becomes whatever word is that which is stronger than “anathema”.
The reality was that we were subjected to three solid hours of the course without a break! Words fail me. At least it wasn’t for the full five hours that we were supposed to be in school.
Only five hours – rather than the usual eight. We were able to leave at 2.00 pm. That was when I had completed the recuperation marking that I had to do form the pupils who failed their summer exam. Never a dull moment!
Today is the eve of the festival of Sant Joan (Saint John the Baptist) and is the night on which Catalans throw sobriety to the winds and stay on beaches throughout the night letting off fireworks and drink like the Brits!
I have just come down from the Third Floor where I spent many happy minutes watching with untrammelled delight the hundreds of thousands of euros disappearing in the twinkling of an eye. Fireworks are truly one of the most satisfyingly unjustifiable transitory delights ever!
As it is traditional to drink Cava and eat cake whose name sounds disturbingly like the slang term for cocaine – a good time was had by all.
And it can all be slept off tomorrow – though in the evening I have to go into Barcelona to meet my cousin for a meal – and it will still not be the weekend!
O the joy of four-day weeks!
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