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Bush telegraph

January 29, 2013 in Life in England, Moving to Canada | 2 comments

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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Working week

January 12, 2013 in Life in England | 2 comments

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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Usually wrong…

January 4, 2013 in Life as we know it | 2 comments

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid“Pessimists are usually right and optimists are usually wrong but all the great changes have been accomplished by optimists.”

Thomas L Friedman

 

That change is the natural order of things is clearly a truism.

I recall reading – some decades ago – Bertrand Russell’s ‘A History of Western Philosophy’. Although this tome has been much criticized since its inception during the Second World War it has also been – and understandably so – a massive popular and commercial success and has remained consistently in print throughout the entire period. I found it to be a clear and concise guide to western philosophy for the uninitiated and would not hesitate to recommend it – though one should also read the critiques thereof for true balance.

Of the many schools of thought that Russell covers – from the Pre-Socratics onward – the ideas with which I feel the strongest resonance are those of Heraclitus. As quoted by Plato in ‘Cratylus’, Heraclitus’ best known doctrine – that all things are flux – is expressed thus:

“Everything flows and nothing abides.”

“Nothing endures but change.”

“No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.”

I would be greatly surprised if a credible case to the contrary could be made; the concept of Time’s Arrow – in entropy and all of its related forms – surely being irrefutable.

It is strange therefore – given this indigenous nature – that change is also something that many people fear or find difficult to deal with. We supposedly become more resistant to change as we grow older, and it is certainly often the case that if one is not radical in one’s youth one is unlikely ever so to be. The idea, however, of becoming a conservative in my old age scares me half to death, though friends will probably fall about laughing at this juncture – happily pointing the finger!

That change is on my mind will come as no surprise to anyone who has been following this blog for any period but, in addition to all of the other variables current in my life, this Friday morning finds me sitting in my office surrounded by boxes and packing cases. Next week we move into our new offices in the School’s shiny new multimillion pound science building. The fact that my new office is approximately 25 feet from where I am sitting now (yes, they have been building just outside our windows for the last 18 months) makes not a jot of difference. Moving is a major upheaval.

We have – naturally – taken advantage of this enforced relocation to instigate a major clear-out. My nature is to hoard – to hold on to things in case they might come in handy at some unspecified point in the future. Being impelled to throw things away goes against the grain though I am also very aware that it is a healthy – and necessary – thing to do.

As ever with change there is much to look forward to – in this case our splendid new facility – but much of which to be nervous.

Deep breath! Take the plunge…

 

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Stolen songs

November 22, 2012 in Life in England | 8 comments

“It’s mornings like this;
The stingy sun trying to hold back
Even the warmth of its reflection
Flashing coldly in the lake.
When November leaves drop in sudden gusts,
Like a red and yellow flock of birds
Swooping at once to ground.
Or even nights:
When winds reach wet hands
To take you spinning with random paper
Down back street gutters, under straining bridges
To clogged rivers.
It’s this:
The time of year, along with spring,
When poets must take care
Not to sing the same old songs
Stolen from tribal memory.”

Thomas R. Drinkard

In my opinion – humble or otherwise – November is quite the grimmest quantum of the year… far worse than Eliot’s ‘cruelest month’. There are entire days on which the light struggles helplessly to elevate itself beyond a Stygian post-apocalyptic twilight, and the dismal rain lashes the last few leaves from the traumatised trees to besmirch the sodden earth like eviscerated corpses smeared across the battlefield of the dying year.

The shortest day is yet a month away – and our subsequent celebration of ‘Sol Invictus’ has scarce reached the planning stage. Like the dormant green shoots themselves all thoughts of spring are still lodged securely underground – safe from the winter frosts. They will not expose their tender heads to the chill air for many months yet.

The Michaelmas term is always the longest – and the toughest – of the school year. The aim is to crack the preponderance of the curriculum before the solstice break – to form a platform for the anticipated achievements of the new year. The cause is noble, but the casualties are heavy – in terms of exhaustion, langour and ennui.

There comes a point at which one is just counting the days – and at such times, indeed, ‘poets must take care’…

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Look about you

October 6, 2012 in Life in England, Photos | Permalink

“Reader, if you seek his monument – look about you”

Inscription on Wren’s tomb in St Paul’s Cathedral

Each year the School – along with its sister school – celebrates its foundation and its Founder, John Colet, at a service in St Paul’s Cathedral – of which he was once Dean. This impressive logistical operation involves bus-sing the entire complement of both schools across London in time for a 2:30pm start. To my knowledge no-one has ever been late for it which – as those familiar with the London traffic will attest – is little short of a miracle.

I have always loved the cathedral and I attend the service each year simply to re-visit the building. This is all the more poignant given its romantic attachment for me and this year – as ever- I took a moment to stand directly under the dome and to lose myself to my thoughts.

Here are some snapshots:

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Not shy – just retiring

September 17, 2012 in Life as we know it | Permalink

“It is time I stepped aside for a less experienced and less able man.”

Professor Scott Elledge on his retirement from Cornell

 

You may have noticed that my posts over the last couple of weeks, whilst covering a variety of topics, have steered clear of further commentary on the progress – or otherwise – of my campaign for Canadian permanent residency and of next year’s proposed move to British Columbia. Truth be told, this latest separation from the Kickass Canada Girl has been particularly tough on us both and I have, subsequently, concentrated on keeping my mind occupied elsewhere rather than brooding on the tortuously slow progress that is currently being made on that front. The start of the academic year at the School – with its concomitant frenzy of work – has in any case not left much time for reverie.

I do feel now, however, that it is time to start thinking positively again – to attempt to make manifest the progress that has been lacking hitherto. To that end I intend re-commencing investigation of a number of the topics that need to be addressed – such as how to ship all our worldly possessions over the ocean to Canada – and whether or not I should put all our belongings into storage, give up my rather splendid rented apartment and find a room somewhere… as a way of saving some monies.

I am going to start, however, with the notion of retirement. I am aware that it is a big step, and that if one fails to plan… yada, yada, yada! I intend, therefore, to do some reading and some thinking and, as ever when I do such, I will then inflict the results thereof on the gentle reader in my usual series of whimsical musings.

Though by no means limited to circumstances such as those in which I find myself, the last year at work before retirement does take on a particular poignancy if one works in education. Because the school year is, in the main, a repeated cycle of events – not just terms (semesters!) and holidays (vacations!), but also plays, concerts, sporting events, founder’s days, benefactors’ lunches, prizegiving and so forth – the final year manifests as a series of mileposts that flash past, counting down to a rapidly approaching destination. As each event passes I am made acutely aware that this was indeed the last time that I shall experience it, and that the next such occasion will take place in my absence. This – naturally – makes one only too aware of one’s insignificance in the great scheme of things. These great schools have survived half a millenium and more. They will certainly survive my departure.

The question is – of course – will I?

…and the answer is – of course I will!

…but it won’t necessarily be easy. Time to get planning…

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The Silent Salesman

July 26, 2012 in Flotsam and Jetsam | Permalink

“I’d rather trust a man who doesn’t shout what he’s found,
There’s no need to sell if you’re homeward bound.”

Peter Gabriel

Shortly before the end of last term – and my subsequent trip to BC – I was visited by the account manager for the School’s telecom provider. I am responsible for all of the School’s telephony and external data connections and the meeting was really just a routine catch-up, to see how things were going.

A day or so later – immediately before I left for Canada – I had an email from the account manager advising me that she could offer some significant savings if we signed a new three-year deal. As our existing three-year contract was about to expire this made good sense, but I was sufficiently tired and befuddled that I thought it best to take more time and to work through the implications when my head was clearer.

In the jet-lagged period following my return from Victoria our account manager again approached me, enquiring as to whether I had made any progress. Feeling somewhat guilty I admitted that I was still not entirely clear as to any possible ramifications of taking the offer, and asked for further clarification. The account manager offered to visit me again to explain further – an invitation that I gladly accepted.

When she duly arrived – on a glorious and rare 30°C morning – it took her a mere ten minutes or so to dispel any lingering doubts. This left me feeling guilty again, as I had forgotten that she had to drive all the way up to London from the south coast, which journey – given the heat and the traffic restrictions arising from the fast-approaching Olympics – had proved long and arduous. I spun the meeting out to an acceptable length on the entirely unreasonable premise that this might somehow make it seem to have been more worthwhile. She was – it has to be said – entirely equitable about the whole affair.

I walked her back to her car, passing on the way the three-quarters complete Science Building that is the first stage of the School’s major redevelopment programme. I explained that we would need to move all of our external connections – phone and data – to this new building once it had been handed over, and we discussed what would be involved in doing so.

I also mentioned that we had a small number of direct analogue phone circuits – provided by British Telecom rather than our own provider – which service fire alarm panels, security systems and the like. These would also need to be moved. She suggested that we simply install new lines – cancelling the old ones when the transition was complete.

Standing next to her car, a thought occurred to me. I asked her if her company could provide such circuits.

“Yes”, she replied.

I asked what would be the difference between them providing the lines and my ordering them from BT.

“Ours would be cheaper.”

I asked what I would need to do to set things in motion.

“I’ll send you the forms.”

Job done – a potentially tricky problem solved – everything integrated into one contract, and – without my prompting – she wouldn’t have said a word. Now – given that really don’t like being sold to, my question is – is she actually a brilliant sales-person, or just a very lucky one!

I know which my money is on…

 

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A day at the races

June 28, 2012 in Life in England, Photos | Permalink

An unexpected treat – a day out at the Henley Royal Regatta courtesy of a (young!) ‘old boy’ who is a partner in a software company whose system is used extensively by the School. I have enjoyed many days at Henley over the years, but this was the first occasion on which I was the guest of a former schoolboy and Oxford oarsman. I have been entertained as a guest in the Steward’s enclosure before but have never previously visited Leander itself, nor been invited into the boathouses.

Though the School’s first VIII was knocked out of the main schools’ competition (The Princess Elizabeth Cup) in the morning, our day was made by staying late to watch our under 16 crew who had managed to qualify for The Temple Challenge Cup – which event is ostensibly for Universities. Half a length down to Nottingham University at the halfway mark they then proceeded to row through the much older and heavier crew, beating them to the line by a canvas. Excellent and heroic stuff!

Here are some pictures from the day:

 

Something I have not seen before – Pimms on tap!!

Another surprise! The Gloriana – the Royal Barge built to lead the Jubilee flotilla on the Thames in London earlier this month – was moored by Leander.

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Slowly running down…

June 26, 2012 in Life in England | 2 comments

The last week of the academic year always feels slightly unreal.

Examinations have finished, the leavers are itching to be gone and those lesser boys who must return after the long summer break have already lost their focus and motivation and are dreaming of other places and other personas.

The academic staff – racing against time to complete hundreds of reports and to assign thousands of grades – have become fractious and argumentative and are struggling to clear their desks before term ends on Friday.

The support staff do not get academic holidays and will thus be in School throughout the summer months. They scowl irritably, knowing that the next time they see most of the academics will be in the last few frantic days before the new teaching year starts at the end of August, when all manner of last-minute and barely-reasonable requests will be made which, with but a little foresight, could well have been met over the summer break.

As usual I fall between the two stools. The fact that I teach drama means that I too must report and grade, and that I am only too aware that my remaining classes are unlikely to attain the heights of a few short weeks ago. Then, in a few days – and with my IT hat on – I must co-ordinate a complex programme of summer works, culminating in the rush to be ready for the new year…

…or that is what I would be doing were it not that the Kickass Canada Girl is waiting for me (im)patiently in BC. In actual fact – when the boys leave at morning break on Friday – my deputy will drive me directly to Heathrow and I will be on a plane for Calgary – en route to Victoria – by 13:30.

Which is a very good thing – for this has without question been a tough year thus far. I – for one – have a pretty good idea how a battery might feel (should batteries have feelings!) at the point at which the charge starts to falter, the power drains away and the last remaining dregs of energy are no longer sufficient to to keep the system running.

I need a recharge…

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Best work day of the year!

May 22, 2012 in Life as we know it | Permalink

“Summer Dress

The Surmaster would like to announce that from now on pupils will be allowed to wear summer dress. This means that ties do not need to be worn with shirts. However, if pupils wish to continue wearing jackets or pullovers then a tie must be worn. If a t-shirt is worn under your shirt it must be plain white only.”

 

Hooray! My favourite work day of the year. The announcement of Summer Dress means that I don’t need to wear a tie again – until September!

 

As the Canadians are wont to say – ‘Awesome’!!

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