Days

Received a pithily expressive card from John & Jeanette the other day reading: May we live in less interesting times. I endeavoured to live out that sentiment today, recording a Saturday on which nothing of note happened in my life. And that's more than fine by me since it was a perfectly happy day.

Holiday Fun

15.33

Now getting into a distinct holiday mood for the long weekend as we're looking forward to an evening at the theatre watching Roald Dahl's The BFG, in the version put together by the RSC. We're taking along Hakim and the girls on the grounds that this is a treat for the littlun. But it's really for me, as you might have guessed.

More anon.

23.55

Gosh, what a great show! It gets everything right. A kind of compendium of the magic of theatre, with a number of tricks, beautifully carried off, that I recognised, and some new ones, generally of a technological nature, that I didn't. The lighting alone was worth the price of admission.

But the deepest magic of all involved in the show is that it entirely captures the magic of Dahl's fictional world for children: unrelenting energy, glorious vulgarity, unabashed sentimentality and unrestrainedly cheerful anarchy.

Hooked (In A Fashion)

Back in early April, when things were getting going again after the happy hiatus of the Fasting Month, I predicted to myself that I would relish reading The Makioka Sisters. I was right. It's a blast. Which is utterly the wrong word to use of a text that is wonderfully ordinary and subtle in that ordinariness. But the word will serve as a placeholder for now. And a placeholder is what I need since almost a month has gone by and I've still not reached the halfway point in what is a reasonably lengthy, but certainly not overlong novel.

This is not the fault of the estimable Mr Tanizaki. It's down to my grievous lack of oomph in getting on with a great read due to being weighed down by the toad, Work. I really should be doing better than this at my age.

Losing It

I signed up for a free medical check-up the other day and discovered I am now 171 cm tall. Since I was regularly measured at 174 cm up to 5 years ago I'd like to know why I seem to be gradually disappearing. I could once console myself that I am at least taller than the mighty Paul Scholes (usually measured at 170, I hear.) But I reckon that that's likely to be in doubt this time next year if the shrinking continues.

On the other hand, I was pleased to discover that my metabolic age is 44. Sounds good. Wish I knew what 'metabolic age' actually means, though.

Rising Damp

Today has been one of the most humid I've experienced here in almost 40 years residence within these shores. The palpable stickiness of the humidity became apparent as early as 7.40 am when I was standing outside for flag-raising. For the first time in some years I felt fidgety during the proceedings, but managed to control the impulse to seek some respite from just standing and looking vaguely attentive.

And things were worse at 4.00 pm when I arrived at our outside basketball courts. It took less than 15 minutes for my dark blue shirt to become several sweaty shades darker. Fortunately our basketball guys proved a good deal hardier than myself, working with genuine momentum and intensity for a good three hours. I suppose in the long-ago days of my youth I might have managed to do the same, but then again English summers were never exactly humid.

I suppose it's good to face the occasional challenge. Just hope it's very, very occasional, that's all.

Another Of Those Days

Very much a day of celebrations. And very glad am I to have the inestimable privilege of being around to enjoy the unlikely good fortune of being here to enjoy it. See a bit of the evidence below:

And here's further evidence of the pre-birthday walk in the park, just to affirm the supreme joy of the public parks in this Far Place (and of wearing silly hats therein):

A Walk In The Park

Noi suggested that we get out for a walk on Sunday earlier in the week and, nothing loath as they say, or used to say once upon a time, I agreed. I'm glad I did back then because by early this morning, at the time for the Dawn Prayer, I felt pretty loath indeed and probably would have resisted going had I not so enthusiastically agreed days earlier. Apart from feeling tired I was facing a day of grading orals for IB examinations and wasn't sure I could afford the time.

But we went ahead and I'm very glad we did so. I could afford the time, as things worked out, getting a bit of work done before we finally set out. And we had a fine old time at East Coast Park, topped by teh tarik and prata at a jolly little eatery at what is now known as East Cove. It was Noi's first extended outing for a while and she struggled a little bit with leg-pain, but coped with what just be the start of a new regime.

The park was lively indeed, filled with folks of all shapes & sizes, and dogs similarly - I've never seen quite so many of our canine chums there previously - and trees similarly and pretty gloriously if you ask me. Lots of other signs of life too, all of it with its Sunday face on, looking relaxed and like itself as it should be.

The Way Ahead

I've arrived at that time of year when it's necessary to lock into survival mode. This entails seeking to get through each day without looking too far ahead, but far enough to avoid on-coming traffic and potential crashes. The great thing is that at some point in June I'll be able to spread myself again, and that time isn't too far off. And that month will also see the World Cup getting underway.

Now considering if I'll need to lay out some of the green stuff to ensure adequate coverage. Time was when it all came for free. A lost paradise. (And the football was glorious. Was there ever a better time for the Beautiful Game than the World Cup in 1970. Pele's Brazil, eh!?!)

At Ease

Now feeling at ease having reached the end of the working week. I can't honestly say there's any real sense of achievement or fulfilment involved. I'm not sure there ever is. But it's more than enough to avoid disappointment and frustration. A sort of truce with the world. Luckier than most, I suspect.

Still Mildly Ranting

The mild rant apropos the iniquities of IT in Education in which I indulged back in January and expanded upon, rather more intemperately, a few days later never really went away. It never does. Every time I hit a hitch with a screen that doesn't function, a cable that doesn't connect, a connection that suddenly goes slow for no reason I can fathom, a bureaucratic webpage that I have to fill in which doesn't allow me access, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, etc, I get hot under the old collar.

But this is not out of blind stupidity. I don't expect the world to run smoothly for me; in fact, I'm mildly surprised when it does.

No, the thing is that when these silly hitches occur in the classroom I recall the earliest very difficult months of my job, when I was learning painfully - but eventually successfully - how to do it. And that involved figuring out the basics. Like how to get a class of extremely non-compliant kids to get on with what needed to be gotten on with and do some real learning. And that involved ensuring every step of a lesson, especially the tricky stuff at the start, flowed. Which meant that each step needed to work, had to work, non-negotiably. 

And now, when I'm dealing with yet another unpredictable malfunction as a lesson begins, I feel for the long-ago younger version of me who would not have been able to guarantee what was necessary to guarantee to function competently. And eventually excel. And I wonder about all the 'beginning' teachers I encounter, especially those faced with kids of the non-compliant variety, of which there are more than a few even in this sunny Far Place, and how often they have to deal with problems created solely by the stuff that everyone was told would somehow make teaching easier, more efficient, more 'fun', yadda, yadda, yadda.