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Life in England

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidI really must apologise for the recent lamentable lack of interesting new images to accompany these posts. I can only beg your indulgence for what will doubtless be an equivocation of excuses.

As ever I carry the Fuji X10 with me every day – to work and elsewhere – looking for opportunities to record what I see and whatever tickles my fancy. However, the start of this year really has featured atmospheric and climatic conditions of such a truly dire nature that the impetus to indulge in observational lacunae has been strictly limited. In other words – the weather has been so sh*t that I can’t be ar*ed to stop to take pictures!

This time last year – as is evidenced in this post from last March – saw the UK basking in almost summer-like conditions with the temperature approaching 20C. I enjoyed a wonderful top-down drive down to the coast in Pearl on the occasion of a family funeral.

This year – as can been seen from the accompanying image – temperatures struggle to rise above zero and even the south of England is still suffering snow falls and heavy frosts. The poor daffodils look shocked and stunned and resolutely refuse to open their buds. Who can blame them? Last March was the third warmest here on record. By contrast – in some parts of the UK – last weekend was the coldest March weekend for 50 years. What’s more, there is no sign of the weather improving this side of Easter!

Bah! – and Bah again!!

Our dear friends in Saanichton report that temperatures in Victoria are up into the mid-teens – and that spring has well and truly arrived. I will do my very best just to feel happy for them – and not to be at all bitter!

How am I doing?

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Photo by 37 °C on FlickrIt is difficult now to imagine that – had our plans of the past year come to fruition – I would have been packing up and moving permanently to Canada in a little over four months from now. Much of this imaginative difficulty stems from the ‘sheer weight of traffic’ on my calendar since the turn of the year. We have not yet achieved the vernal equinox and already six months’ worth of activity seems to have been  packed into a few brief weeks. How would I ever have found the time to organise my emigration? Right now – sadly – retirement feels a long way off!

This calendrical congestion has not been ameliorated by the precosity this year of Easter, which movable feast – as you doubtless know – falls on the Sunday following the first full Moon on or after the equinox. Since that date can be as early as March 22nd, this year’s festival (on the 31st) might be thought a breeze. By contrast to the latest possible date (April 25th) it does – however – still represent a significant squeeze to the schedule. School term finishes on Maundy Thursday (the 28th) so there is no time to ‘wind down’ before the holiday weekend commences.

Furthermore – the end of this particular term affords little opportunity to catch my breath…

The School’s Easter holiday will be a busy time – for those of us in IT at least. The remaining two departments must be moved into the new Science building and the occupants of our single boarding house must be moved out into their new accommodation so that demolition can start on the current building – to make way for the next phase of the redevelopment – the School’s new Drama Centre.

For my part there is an additional burden over the coming months – though ‘burden’ gives a somewhat misleading impression. I have agreed to direct the next School production – the Junior Play. Parts in this traditional end of year entertainment are open only to the 4th and 5th forms (ages 13 – 15) for the simple reason that everyone else spends much of their summer term buried in the examination hall – or in preparation therefore.

To add to other immediate stresses – therefore – it is also necessary to audition for – and to cast – the production before this term ends. Practically that means auditioning, recalling, whittling down and selecting twenty four from more than fifty budding thespists during the lunch hours of the only three full days next week that the boys are actually in school.

No pressure then!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThough this year marks the 40th anniversary of my first involvement with young people’s theatre (a fact that had not occurred to me until I sat down to compose this post) and though I have throughout the last decade and a half been involved in a variety of capacities (writer, director) with school productions, I have only been teaching drama in secondary education (Canadian: high school) for the past four years. The School’s last inspection was more than five years ago and I have thus not yet had to endure the scrutiny of formal lesson observation.

Until now…!

I led two drama classes yesterday, either of which could have been observed – although since I only teach a couple of 4th form (1st year – don’t ask!) sets there was a fair chance that the inspectors would not bother with me at all. My morning group are pretty hard work – still lacking a degree of self discipline and featuring a couple of characters seemingly determined to argue every point. The afternoon set are considerably better behaved – though to this point they have not been particularly adventurous.

I found myself offering up a silent prayer to a whole panoply of deities prior to my first class – hoping that no inspector would appear. Once we were five minutes into the period I was able to relax a little, secure in the knowledge that my struggles to keep the group on track would go unrecorded.

Having successfully taken this hurdle at the canter I thought I could relax a tad (tad = smidgeon!). I arrived – quietly confident – a few minutes early for my afternoon class. First through the door at the class change bell… was one of the inspectors! Deep breath! Hold the nerve…!

Well – I don’t know how I did, but my set were total stars. For the first time since I had met them – a few weeks ago – they started to show real imagination and a fair bit of potential. Frankly – they were brilliant! The icing on the cake was that – at the precise second that I wound up the session with my final exhortation – the bell rang. Nice timing!

What I did not anticipate was quite how wiped out I would feel afterwards. There must have been a fair bit of tension and adrenalin involved, though I was not particularly aware of it at the time. Lying down in a darkened room seemed the best restorative…

…that and a large drink!

 

Stop press: Though the report on the inspection will not be published for another month – and the contents are strictly embargoed until then – the High Master indicated that they will cause general contentment all round when released.

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidA tightly controlled level of something only faintly resembling panic has set in at the School as we embark on four days of inspection. The outcome is expected to be positive – if not very positive – which certainly adds to the pressure.

Independent schools in the UK are inspected by a body called the Independent Schools Inspectorate – or the ISI (should you prefer the TLA). An ISI inspection can take one of two forms – an interim inspection or a full inspection. This one is the latter. Independent schools must be inspected every six years at the outside, but inspections can occur more frequently should the inspectorate deem there to be a need so to do.

The effect of this regimen is that the more time passes without an inspection taking place the higher is the likely-hood of one being called at any point. The ISI gives one week’s notice – making the announcement of an inspection by a telephone call on a Tuesday for a visit the following week – the which has the effect of keeping everyone constantly on their toes. As time passes and the probability of an inspection increases so one feverishly checks the number of weeks left in the term during which such a visit could take place. Since much of the summer term is ruled out by examinations, had we in this instance made it through another week without getting the call we would have been in the clear until the autumn.

No matter. Better in many ways to get it out of the way.

The inspection team comprises eleven inspectors who – in addition to all of the attention that they will be paying to governance, health and safety, child protection and other policy issues – will be observing around one hundred classes over the four days. There won’t be time for the inspectors to observe every teacher but they will cover the majority of them and – understandably – no notice will be given as to which those will be. The inspectors will appear – or they won’t! I have two drama classes on Thursday – either (or neither!) of which might be chosen. At this point I am really not sure whether I would prefer to be observed – or not.

We shall see…

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“Take the attitude of a student, never be too big to ask questions, never know too much to learn something new.”

Og Mandino

I thought you might like to see what northwards of £18 million can buy you – should you be in the market for a science teaching block!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhot by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidDSCF3006Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidA few weeks ago I celebrated my birthday. Actually – ‘celebrated’ is probably somewhat too strong a word as I am of the persuasion that regards birthdays as mere nodding acquaintances rather than as seldom-seen long-lost friends. Actually – that isn’t entirely true either, because once a decade – on the occasion of what is melodramatically known as ‘the big one’ – I do let my hair down (what  remains thereof) and go – metaphorically at least – to town!

Needless to say – this was not ‘the big one’! That is still a year away.

When that festival does come around I had intended celebrating the event on the west coast of Vancouver Island. That may still turn out to possible, but the notion was predicated on the assumption that the Kickass Canada Girl and I would – by then – actually be living on the island. As that is no longer the case we may now need to re-consider. But then again…

The passing of this particular milestone has in any case not been without interest. I have now entered my sixtieth year on the planet and this is of itself food for thought. There is something about the ultimate season before a ‘major’ event that feels quite different. It is as though the hard yards have been gained, the finishing post is in sight and one can relax a little in the knowledge that the job has been well done. The feeling is somewhat akin to the endurance of the long distance flight. At the onset all is about settling in, getting comfortable and trying to moderate the chronometer of anticipation. The preponderance of the subsequent peregrination is spent asleep or in being fed, watered(!) and/or entertained. Finally – as one stirs, bleary eyed, from one’s semi-slumber to find that touchdown is less than an hour hence – an unreasonable sense of achievement pervades, as though to have survived the passage thus far were somehow note-worthy… a hangover perhaps from the days when travel really was an arduous undertaking.

At one point last summer I found myself experiencing a very similar feeling about having entered my final year at work before retirement. I had already commenced composition of a post on the subject for this blog at the point at which that hope was snatched away by the fickle hand of fate. Unfortunately, in my enthusiasm for this newly acquired state of pending retirement I had clearly mentioned my intentions to one or two too many others at the School. Such rumours have a habit of spreading like wildfire – as is the way in all such contained environments – and I now find myself somewhat embarrassed at having to disabuse eager well-wishers of the notion that I am shortly to disappear.

Now of course, when I do finally announce my impending retirement – at whatever point that happens – no-one will believe me!

 

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Here in the south east of England we don’t get very much snow – and when we do it doesn’t usually stay very long. Canadian readers and those in the north of the UK will probably snort derisively at this point, but the Kickass Canada Girl and I currently live in the land of the ‘soft southern jessies’ and that is just the way it is. Anyway – as a result we get pretty excited when the snow lasts a long time, as it seems to be doing at the moment. I trust that you will forgive me, therefore, if I post a few more snow snaps!

 

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

I rather liked this instance of Pepper’s Ghost… candles in the snow!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

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“The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.”

Terri Guillemets

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidReaders may recall – and those who do not may refresh their memories here should they so wish – that the Kickass Canada Girl and my very first scheme for moving to British Columbia – even before she was offered the job there – involved us moving out of our home in Buckinghamshire into rented accommodation, selling our apartment, purchasing a property in Victoria, letting it and then using the income to cover our rent in the UK until such time as we could move to Canada. The chief purpose of this little scheme was to enable us to leave the UK quickly when the time came and to have a property ready and waiting in BC on our arrival there.

As will be clear by now neither this nor any of our subsequent schemes worked out at all as planned. When it became apparent that we were not to be able to sell our apartment in short order we had to re-think. Rather than move back to Buckinghamshire we decided to seek a tenant to occupy the property and thus to cover our rental costs until such time as we were able to find a buyer. This was, after all, exactly what we were planning to do in Victoria – so where was the difference?

Well! All I can say is that the experience of our first year as landlords (or more properly as landlord and landlady) may well have put us off the whole notion for life! Nor does it does take much research on the InterWebNet or elsewhere to establish that anyone who lets property for any length of time ineluctably accrues their own horror stories. We just have to hope that our inchoate experience was anomalous and that our next time round will prove more propitious.

We seem to have suffered a particularly infelicitous run of bad luck when it comes to expenses. The Girl and I had spent a considerable amount renovating the apartment over the previous few years, which enterprise had included the installation of a complete new kitchen designed to a high standard by my brother – who makes his living thus. He is not cheap but he is very good!

Imagine my consternation, therefore, when – over the course of the year – I was obliged to:

  • replace the fridge/freezer
  • spend a considerable amount on oven repairs
  • call an engineer on several occasions to fix the washer/dryer
  • purchase a new control module for a gas fire
  • arrange for the ailing heating system to be looked at on more than one occasion.

This latter culminated in the eventual failure of the boiler (‘furnace’ – for Canadian readers!) requiring a complete – and expensive – replacement.

As though all of this were not enough our initiatory tenant proved to be a total nightmare. Quite apart from demanding a rent rebate whenever the slightest thing went amiss, this lessee eventually seemed to absent himself entirely from the property, only to be replaced (according to reports from our erstwhile neighbours) by a friend of his to whom he was ‘lending’ the apartment (the lease prohibiting him from sub-letting it). Our former home was thus now being lived in by someone of whom we had no knowledge or information at all, and who proceeded to upset the neighbours with noisy late night comings and goings and – ignoring our blandishments to the contrary – by smoking out of the windows. Matters eventually reached the point at which we were obliged to give the appropriate notice and the tenant – and his friend – finally moved out just before Christmas.

That was not – sad to say – the end of the matter. The tenant – whom we believed to be a very ‘house-proud’ fellow – had on taking up the lease enquired as to whether he could redecorate some of the rooms in neutral tones. We had no objection to this and at the end of the year were expecting to get the apartment back in good order. We were, therefore, upon receiving the check-out report from our management company, stunned to discover that the tenant had – without any consultation! – replaced a perfectly good neutral toned carpet in one of the bedrooms… with a black one!

Astonishing!! What sort of behaviour is that?!

As I write there are decorators and carpet-layers in the apartment restoring everything to a sensible state with a view to attracting fresh tenants. The cost of all this will hopefully – following the usual haggling, horse-trading and possibly arbitration – be recovered from the tenant’s deposit. I have no doubt that he will fight every inch of the way – because that is just the sort of unreasonable man that he is.

It takes – clearly – all sorts!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe recent paucity of posts on this forum is the unfortunate but inevitable consequence of this having been the busiest commencement to a year that I can recall for a long time. The first week of term is always a busy time, particularly if – as on this occasion – I have some small involvement in the pre-term INSET. This week – however – such fripperies have been small-fry by comparison to the main event.

I mentioned in my last post that my office – along, of course, with those of my staff – was being moved into our own little corner of the School’s splendid new science building. This edifice – which has been under construction for the last year and a half – is actually not quite complete and won’t be handed over officially until the end of the month. We made a special case for moving early because relocating the IT Department during term time was just too scary a prospect to contemplate. During what is rather curiously called ‘production’ much of our effort is spent ‘firefighting’ – which doesn’t leave much time for anything else.

As a result we currently live next door to the builder’s temporary site office, and thus rub shoulders on a daily basis with a lot of burly men wearing what is acronymically(!) denominated ‘PPE’ – or Personal Protective Equipment. That’s hard hats, big steel-capped boots, flourescent jackets, goggles and protective gloves to the rest of us!

Moving office was – however – not even the half of it…

The day before our relocation we also moved one of our two server rooms into the new building. This involved completely re-engineering the network infrastructure, taking the majority of our services offline (including all of the School’s telephones) and then restoring everything to operational status in the new location before being able to go home. We had hoped to have all of this done within a half day. It took 12 hours straight – and even then was not entirely done! A great deal of planning had been done to ensure that all ran smoothly, but as ever none of our scheming had equipped us to handle the unforeseen. This latter included equipment that had run without skipping a beat for the last few years and yet refused to start up again in the new location – not to mention the discovery that the equipment racks with which our new server room is generously furnished could not be adjusted to sufficient depth to mount our servers – falling short by a mere 2mm. We had to dismantle the racks, drill new mounting holes and re-assemble them before we could actually install the equipment.

We had two days to complete both office and equipment moves before the School’s staff – and subsequently the boys – returned for the spring term. We made it but it was a close run thing and – as a result – pretty exhausting…

…not to mention that the first and longest day was also my birthday! Of that – as they say – more anon…

 

 

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