Tuesday, April 09, 2013

Divisive to the Last

The kerfuffle in the Staff Room over the death of That Woman is still sending out mild ripples of unease.  I have to say that all my Celtic Fringe colleagues are united in rejoicing at The Demise while my English colleagues are displaying varying degrees of response from mild satisfaction to tigerish defence of That Woman’s legacy.  They are a funny breed, the English!

The video of Thatcher Burning has been seen by a decent number of those who know me and so I feel that I have fulfilled my oft-stated declaration to have a party and drink to her combustion.  The party may have been electronic but I feel that right thinking people were joined in a common bond of remembered detestation. 

To any who still need to see the proof of my setting fire to a candle which now would fetch ever more on eBay I refer them to the following link for proof positive that the Blue Bouffant is no more!

Today was enlivened by my confusing two classes and waiting patiently for a class that was not going to turn up as I was not only mistaken about the class that I was supposed to be taking but also about the building that I was supposed to be in.  Wild panic ensued until my breathless appearance (do you know how many steps there are between Building 4 and Building 1!) brought the semblance of order to my young charges.

The lesson was about communication and in particular The Media and so I was able to pad out my limited TV and Radio experience and make it sound as if my teaching was a minor part of my life, sandwiched between glittering media triumphs!  I truly have no shame in my instruction of the young!

My swim was deflected by meeting a friend in the car park of Lidl and by the time that we had finished talking in the balmy sunshine it was time for me to meet up with Toni for lunch.

After lunch it was warm enough for me to divest myself of various pieces of outer apparel and lie out on the Third Floor.  I consider that I am still a pasty pale colour but in the past few days a parent has accused me of being too brown to be British and one of the kids was shocked at my colour and had to search for the English word for a few moments before she could give voice to her concern. 

This does not mean that I am brown, it merely demonstrates that your average Catalan would not consider casting a clout until May be out, so with my totally foreign approach to any scrap of sunshine going I am beginning to look healthier than the general run of the native population!

Meanwhile revision continues with the Excel approach proving to be the most productive.  My nerves continue to grow as the time of the Great Write gets nearer and nearer.  The sooner it is over the sooner I can get on with the next stage in my studies with the next module.

And the summer gets ever nearer.  I suppose.
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