In case you're reading this in the New Year, have a happy one. And I hope Christmas was all you hoped it would be, too.
I seem to be enjoying quite a literary Christmas, accompanied by much organ playing and music appreciation. I say literary because I'm reading John Bailey's remarakable account of Iris Murdoch. I'd love to say, honestly, that I was re-reading it, but I admit that I never read it, nor did I ever see the film. His beautiful, flowing use of our language is incomparable, other than by his late wife, of course, and his touching description of their intellectual, unusual, yet simultaneously simple marriage is remarkable in so many ways.
My holiday project of delving constantly into the works of Thomas Hardy has brought more interesting results, and I couldn't help but think, while on a walk in the beautiful Dorset countryside the other day of his magical poem 'The Fallow Deer at the Lonely House' in which he describes a deer looking into the window of a cottage in deepest rural Dorset, where the inhabitants of the cottage are sitting by the fire in the snow, unaware that they are being observed. I know who wrote it, but who was the narrator? I often ponder that.
And then that made me think of Louis MacNiece's brilliant poem 'Snow', in which he manages to explain the shortest period of time in which something wonderful happened.
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural.
I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.
Don't you love that? I do.
Monday 28 December 2009
Wednesday 23 December 2009
There's no snow here in West Dorset, nor, according to our daughter Hannah, who's in Oxford, is there any up there, either. Nor is there any in Tokyo, or so Tom tells us, via Skype. So we believe that all the footage currently being shown on national telly is from the archives. Icy, though, and it's quite fun doing a Clarkson - when it's safe to do so! (Much to Mrs C's chagrin!) No biking, though: I'm not entirely mad. (Whatever your young may think.)
Anyway, if you're at a bit of a loose end and, for whatever reason, have blog-logged, I hope you're having a wonderful time, as we are - even in our snowless state. The Matriarch is due to arrive tomorrow, coming by 4x4 (someone's driving her: she doesn't own one), so that should be, er, fun. I hope the kitchen won't catch fire this year, as it did two years ago, and I hope that I don't get bogged down by theological 'discussion' to such an extent that I ended up writing to the Telegraph about it. I hope, too, that I shan't have any cause to cover my hysterics at her malapropical pronunciations! Last year, when discussing savage dogs and the fact that they are, in her view, all a menace to society, I dared to venture that if they're looked after properly, they're as placid as a Newtonian watching Songs of Praise waiting for sweet rations. She didn't think much of THAT!
"Well, would YOU like to own a Rotor Weller?" she demanded.
Here's our Christmas letter. Yes, I know most of you think they're ghastly things, but we're all family together. So enjoy. Have a great time and much love from us both. P and D.
NEWTON LODGE MAYFIELD ROAD OXFORD OX2 7EN
Telephone: 01865 459246 E-mail: prc@summerfields.com
Dear Friends
Another year has come and gone and much has happened. We are still very happy here at Summer Fields, where we are in our sixteenth year, and very pleased that we decided to return to houseparenting after our (much-enjoyed) ‘sabbatical’. We are privileged to live in a very fine four-bedroomed house in North Oxford, surrounded during term time by 27 ten and eleven year old boys, all of whom are very agreeable and appreciative. With just two more years until retirement, we can’t think of a nicer place to be.
The Cheater family members are all well and thriving. Hannah has had a momentous year, in which she worked for six months as a gap-student teacher at St Cyprian’s School in Cape Town. She had a truly amazing time, based at the foot of Table Mountain, and now she has just completed her first term at Bristol UWE, where she’s studying for a B.A. degree in Early Childhood Studies and Linguistics. She has enjoyed it all tremendously and has made many new friends and joined numerous extra-curricular activities.
Tom is currently in Japan for seven months, having arrived there last week. It was horrid saying goodbye to him at Heathrow, but any distress was somewhat alleviated by the fact that he discovered, when booking in, that he had been upgraded to Business Class – free of charge! He is, of course, delighted to be reunited with his Japanese girlfriend, Risa, and, to judge from the Skype conversations that we have had with him, although he was rather jet-lagged to begin with, he is greatly enjoying his time there. He left Monkton with sufficiently good A levels to gain a place at London University’s School of African and Oriental Studies, to read for a B.A. degree in Japanese, starting in September.
Alice left Monkton at the end of last year, having gained a perfectly respectable clutch of GCSEs and has returned to her previous school, Rye St Anthony, here in Oxford. She has adapted remarkably well and, after an initial period of missing her Bath friends greatly, is now very content with her lot – especially as she now has free weekends!
Paul is still the school’s ‘Senior Master’, teaching English and French and being the School Organist. His research fellow status was raised to that of ‘Adjunct Research Fellow’ at Monash University in Melbourne, and he continues to be heavily involved with the development of the Afghanistan National Institute of Music, of which he is now a member of the Governing Council. He may be visiting Kabul in the not too distant future, to organise and lead a training course for a number of music examiners. He was very fortunate to have visited New York once again in April last year, and he will be back there again this year, too.
Diana continues as wife, mother, house mother, head of department, chief dog-walker and head of logistics for the Cheater family! Any one of those would appear to be a full-time occupation, so quite how she manages to execute all of them and never drop one of the spinning plates is a constant mystery!
Diana’s mother, now 88, is as incorrigible as ever and, although not as mobile as in days of yore, when a ten-mile hike was de rigueur for any Corner House visitor (and I should know!), she’s still very sharp, still driving, still playing Bridge and still making her own bread!
We all enjoyed a lovely occasion to celebrate Paul’s mother’s 90th birthday in April: all the various family members were together and she gave a truly wonderful speech, made all the more remarkable that she has very limited sight now, which meant that she had to speak without a note in front of her.
As for the animals, Isla, our black lab, is now two years old and very affectionate, and Jasmine, our ancient tabby of indeterminate provenance, is now very old indeed, but remains adorable.
And that, dear friends, should bring you all up to date with Cheater family news. Diana and I know that we are very fortunate and we count our blessings regularly. We wish you a very happy Christmas and a joyful and peaceful New Year.
With love from Paul, Diana, Hannah, Tom and Alice. (And Isla and Jasmine, of course.)
Anyway, if you're at a bit of a loose end and, for whatever reason, have blog-logged, I hope you're having a wonderful time, as we are - even in our snowless state. The Matriarch is due to arrive tomorrow, coming by 4x4 (someone's driving her: she doesn't own one), so that should be, er, fun. I hope the kitchen won't catch fire this year, as it did two years ago, and I hope that I don't get bogged down by theological 'discussion' to such an extent that I ended up writing to the Telegraph about it. I hope, too, that I shan't have any cause to cover my hysterics at her malapropical pronunciations! Last year, when discussing savage dogs and the fact that they are, in her view, all a menace to society, I dared to venture that if they're looked after properly, they're as placid as a Newtonian watching Songs of Praise waiting for sweet rations. She didn't think much of THAT!
"Well, would YOU like to own a Rotor Weller?" she demanded.
Here's our Christmas letter. Yes, I know most of you think they're ghastly things, but we're all family together. So enjoy. Have a great time and much love from us both. P and D.
NEWTON LODGE MAYFIELD ROAD OXFORD OX2 7EN
Telephone: 01865 459246 E-mail: prc@summerfields.com
Dear Friends
Another year has come and gone and much has happened. We are still very happy here at Summer Fields, where we are in our sixteenth year, and very pleased that we decided to return to houseparenting after our (much-enjoyed) ‘sabbatical’. We are privileged to live in a very fine four-bedroomed house in North Oxford, surrounded during term time by 27 ten and eleven year old boys, all of whom are very agreeable and appreciative. With just two more years until retirement, we can’t think of a nicer place to be.
The Cheater family members are all well and thriving. Hannah has had a momentous year, in which she worked for six months as a gap-student teacher at St Cyprian’s School in Cape Town. She had a truly amazing time, based at the foot of Table Mountain, and now she has just completed her first term at Bristol UWE, where she’s studying for a B.A. degree in Early Childhood Studies and Linguistics. She has enjoyed it all tremendously and has made many new friends and joined numerous extra-curricular activities.
Tom is currently in Japan for seven months, having arrived there last week. It was horrid saying goodbye to him at Heathrow, but any distress was somewhat alleviated by the fact that he discovered, when booking in, that he had been upgraded to Business Class – free of charge! He is, of course, delighted to be reunited with his Japanese girlfriend, Risa, and, to judge from the Skype conversations that we have had with him, although he was rather jet-lagged to begin with, he is greatly enjoying his time there. He left Monkton with sufficiently good A levels to gain a place at London University’s School of African and Oriental Studies, to read for a B.A. degree in Japanese, starting in September.
Alice left Monkton at the end of last year, having gained a perfectly respectable clutch of GCSEs and has returned to her previous school, Rye St Anthony, here in Oxford. She has adapted remarkably well and, after an initial period of missing her Bath friends greatly, is now very content with her lot – especially as she now has free weekends!
Paul is still the school’s ‘Senior Master’, teaching English and French and being the School Organist. His research fellow status was raised to that of ‘Adjunct Research Fellow’ at Monash University in Melbourne, and he continues to be heavily involved with the development of the Afghanistan National Institute of Music, of which he is now a member of the Governing Council. He may be visiting Kabul in the not too distant future, to organise and lead a training course for a number of music examiners. He was very fortunate to have visited New York once again in April last year, and he will be back there again this year, too.
Diana continues as wife, mother, house mother, head of department, chief dog-walker and head of logistics for the Cheater family! Any one of those would appear to be a full-time occupation, so quite how she manages to execute all of them and never drop one of the spinning plates is a constant mystery!
Diana’s mother, now 88, is as incorrigible as ever and, although not as mobile as in days of yore, when a ten-mile hike was de rigueur for any Corner House visitor (and I should know!), she’s still very sharp, still driving, still playing Bridge and still making her own bread!
We all enjoyed a lovely occasion to celebrate Paul’s mother’s 90th birthday in April: all the various family members were together and she gave a truly wonderful speech, made all the more remarkable that she has very limited sight now, which meant that she had to speak without a note in front of her.
As for the animals, Isla, our black lab, is now two years old and very affectionate, and Jasmine, our ancient tabby of indeterminate provenance, is now very old indeed, but remains adorable.
And that, dear friends, should bring you all up to date with Cheater family news. Diana and I know that we are very fortunate and we count our blessings regularly. We wish you a very happy Christmas and a joyful and peaceful New Year.
With love from Paul, Diana, Hannah, Tom and Alice. (And Isla and Jasmine, of course.)
Saturday 19 December 2009
WITH EVERY GOOD WISH FOR A REALLY GOOD CHRISTMAS AND A GREAT NEW YEAR.
D and I felt greatly humbled by your kind gifts and generous words: we love looking after your Little Men and it's great to know that they enjoy their Newton days as much as we do. We'll be writing 'proper' thank you letters, of course.
Thank you, everyone, for following the Newton blog each day - and I'll be back in January. (Unless I'm inspired to write something during the festive season itself. Mother-in-law might feature if I do ...... )
Tuesday 15 December 2009
I know it sounds unlikely, but, 'twixt form tidying, choir practices, practsing the organ for tomorrow, handwriting competitions, 'treasures' (don't ask) and changing room clearance, a 'window' has actually appeared. That probably means nothing more than that I have missed something on a notice somewhere, and I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time. If that should be the case, then I will simply upload whatever I've churned out.
I thought I'd just tell you a little more about the lodge party. We started by having a lodge meeting, which, to the Newtonians, means only one thing: Sir's cross. He pretended to be, of course, just to get people into the spirit of the evening, you understand, and then announced that there was to be a party in lodge. And we think the boys are perverse! Fortuitously (although you might not think so) for us, X Factor's Got Dancing Talent or whatever it's called was on, which meant the final of that could run 'concurrently'. (Such a great word.)
Thus, we divided the lodge members up into three groups and had ten minutes of a game in three different venues. Pictionary, the Chocolate Game (you know, the one where they have to put hat and gloves on and consume a bar of Dairy Milk) and charades all came into their own, and everyone seemed to enjoy them. Each group had a go at each game, of course.
X Factorisation occurred, while the staff prepared the eating and drinking part of the evening. Don't worry, there was nothing alcoholic - apart from the fizz in the adults' glasses. The boys were coaxed away from the screen and came to consume.
The evening concluded with immense cheering of Joe, followed by community carol singing in our drawing room. It was all very pleasant indeed and all over too quickly.
And now, sure enough, I have to go. See you tomorrow.
I thought I'd just tell you a little more about the lodge party. We started by having a lodge meeting, which, to the Newtonians, means only one thing: Sir's cross. He pretended to be, of course, just to get people into the spirit of the evening, you understand, and then announced that there was to be a party in lodge. And we think the boys are perverse! Fortuitously (although you might not think so) for us, X Factor's Got Dancing Talent or whatever it's called was on, which meant the final of that could run 'concurrently'. (Such a great word.)
Thus, we divided the lodge members up into three groups and had ten minutes of a game in three different venues. Pictionary, the Chocolate Game (you know, the one where they have to put hat and gloves on and consume a bar of Dairy Milk) and charades all came into their own, and everyone seemed to enjoy them. Each group had a go at each game, of course.
X Factorisation occurred, while the staff prepared the eating and drinking part of the evening. Don't worry, there was nothing alcoholic - apart from the fizz in the adults' glasses. The boys were coaxed away from the screen and came to consume.
The evening concluded with immense cheering of Joe, followed by community carol singing in our drawing room. It was all very pleasant indeed and all over too quickly.
And now, sure enough, I have to go. See you tomorrow.
Monday 14 December 2009
I am so sorry, dear readers. Things are so manic, in this extraordinary mixture of fun, frivolity and lid-keeping that I didn't have a chance to write an entry yesterday. But it was a great day, culminating in the unique Summerfieldian game of Bombers and Fighters (which, true to SF ways, has absolutely nothing to do with bombers or fighters), followed by a surprise staff entertainment in Macmillan for the school - after they'd been told that it had been cancelled - followed by the Newton lodge party. Great fun and all went really well. You would have been impressed by all of your litle men and the way in which they all expressed their gratitude after the event!
Because of the League Feast tonight, the residents have all come across early, so I must go. I thought I had ten minutes to write this: sure enough, I haven't.
I'll try and write again tomorrow.
No promises.
Because of the League Feast tonight, the residents have all come across early, so I must go. I thought I had ten minutes to write this: sure enough, I haven't.
I'll try and write again tomorrow.
No promises.
Saturday 12 December 2009
I just have to tell you this!
You see, because we're at 'that' stage of term now, with feelings running pretty high, I became (almost) embroiled in an altercation with a colleague. Professionalism kicked in, of course, as you'd expect in a quality place like this. I was so irritated, though, that I composed a fairly acid e-mail to my adversary, but, just as I was about to click on 'Send', I thought better of it. Instead, because I wanted someone, at least, to be aware of my irritation, I wrote in the subject-line, 'Failed Exocet', and sent it to Our Leader, simply to make him aware of the 'situation'. Honestly, we're worse than the boys when it comes to immaturity, sometimes. Anyway, he kindly replied, with the words 'Don't worry, I have my Rapier Missile Interceptor at the ready'.
Stupidly, I had left the screen in my form room on 'Computer 1', which meant that any e-mailed messages (or anything else) could be seen by anyone! Well, you can imagine, can't you. Members of 3S, having been made aware of the aforementioned cyberspatial dialogue, are now utterly convinced that Mr BT and I are hatching a plan to take over the world. I have not disabused them of this notion - and now you know what he'll be doing after he leaves. Not a word.
Friday nights are non-TV nights - in fact the only ones that are are Wednesdays and Saturdays - but they are Radio nights. There's a pretty good 'hi-fi' system in the common room, and upon entering the room, I came across a Newtonian 'trying to find a decent station'. I told him to leave it to me, and whizzed the dial (see how old I really am?) down to Radio 1 and turned the volume up 'considerably'. Well, (a) the station-seeker was amazed that a geriatric should have even heard of Radio 1, and (b) that he should have the nerve to turn the volume up that far, when he knew (but I didn't) that You-Know-Who was only metres away.
"Er - who turned the radio up that far?" came the stentorian tones from the lower corridor. Now, I've been in that situation before: remember the chocolate and the dog? - but, tempting though it was to stride out of the common via the main entrance and leave my admirers in the lurch, such a lack of integrity was not required. And anyway, how could I?
"Mr Cheater did, Mrs Cheater."
I think I'm going to change my name to Basil. As I said, worse than the boys.
You see, because we're at 'that' stage of term now, with feelings running pretty high, I became (almost) embroiled in an altercation with a colleague. Professionalism kicked in, of course, as you'd expect in a quality place like this. I was so irritated, though, that I composed a fairly acid e-mail to my adversary, but, just as I was about to click on 'Send', I thought better of it. Instead, because I wanted someone, at least, to be aware of my irritation, I wrote in the subject-line, 'Failed Exocet', and sent it to Our Leader, simply to make him aware of the 'situation'. Honestly, we're worse than the boys when it comes to immaturity, sometimes. Anyway, he kindly replied, with the words 'Don't worry, I have my Rapier Missile Interceptor at the ready'.
Stupidly, I had left the screen in my form room on 'Computer 1', which meant that any e-mailed messages (or anything else) could be seen by anyone! Well, you can imagine, can't you. Members of 3S, having been made aware of the aforementioned cyberspatial dialogue, are now utterly convinced that Mr BT and I are hatching a plan to take over the world. I have not disabused them of this notion - and now you know what he'll be doing after he leaves. Not a word.
Friday nights are non-TV nights - in fact the only ones that are are Wednesdays and Saturdays - but they are Radio nights. There's a pretty good 'hi-fi' system in the common room, and upon entering the room, I came across a Newtonian 'trying to find a decent station'. I told him to leave it to me, and whizzed the dial (see how old I really am?) down to Radio 1 and turned the volume up 'considerably'. Well, (a) the station-seeker was amazed that a geriatric should have even heard of Radio 1, and (b) that he should have the nerve to turn the volume up that far, when he knew (but I didn't) that You-Know-Who was only metres away.
"Er - who turned the radio up that far?" came the stentorian tones from the lower corridor. Now, I've been in that situation before: remember the chocolate and the dog? - but, tempting though it was to stride out of the common via the main entrance and leave my admirers in the lurch, such a lack of integrity was not required. And anyway, how could I?
"Mr Cheater did, Mrs Cheater."
I think I'm going to change my name to Basil. As I said, worse than the boys.
Friday 11 December 2009
It's not every day that one receives an invitation from the Ministry of Education in Kabul to go and train up a few music examiners, is it? Nice to be asked, but I think I'll have to give that one some considerable thought. I must confess that I would be fascinated to go. And come back.
Which brings me to music-making nearer home. Mrs C and I were at Burford last night, as were many of you, as the choir were giving a concert there. It seemed to go very well and it was good to meet a number of prospective parents, too. Mr Porter was therefore acting Captain, and he informed me that all had gone well, which was good (essential!) to hear. Diana and I were treated to a luxurious ride home in a lovely Newtonian-parental car and we arrived back in time to take over from our assistant and to say goodnight to our charges. Some of whom were asleep.
Today has been full of musical activity, too, as we went to sing carols at Sobell House, the hospice for terminally ill patients, as we do every year at this time. All very moving, as it always is, and puts our own lives into perspective. Tonight, I've just returned from accompanying the choir at Ponsonby House for the Aged, here in Summertown, and the residents there were aslo hugely appreciative.
And now to Lodge. Sorry these entries are rather late in appearing, but everything gets a bit manic at this time of the term. When the residents here are calm, as they will be tonight (!), 'lodge duty' is a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of the day.
I'm not ready for the rest home yet.
Which brings me to music-making nearer home. Mrs C and I were at Burford last night, as were many of you, as the choir were giving a concert there. It seemed to go very well and it was good to meet a number of prospective parents, too. Mr Porter was therefore acting Captain, and he informed me that all had gone well, which was good (essential!) to hear. Diana and I were treated to a luxurious ride home in a lovely Newtonian-parental car and we arrived back in time to take over from our assistant and to say goodnight to our charges. Some of whom were asleep.
Today has been full of musical activity, too, as we went to sing carols at Sobell House, the hospice for terminally ill patients, as we do every year at this time. All very moving, as it always is, and puts our own lives into perspective. Tonight, I've just returned from accompanying the choir at Ponsonby House for the Aged, here in Summertown, and the residents there were aslo hugely appreciative.
And now to Lodge. Sorry these entries are rather late in appearing, but everything gets a bit manic at this time of the term. When the residents here are calm, as they will be tonight (!), 'lodge duty' is a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of the day.
I'm not ready for the rest home yet.
Thursday 10 December 2009
Newton is a happy place once more. We had a lodge meeting last night, in which I explained, in a pretty forthright and fulsome manner, that certain forms of behaviour were completely unacceptable, that all Newtonians were old enough to know the difference between right and wrong, and that I was not going to allow Miss Ruthie's final days in the lodge to be ruined by thoughtlessness. Christmas, I informed the residents, robustly, was going to be a happy and joyful time for all of us, whether they liked it or not. So there.
Well, it worked. Last night was a lovely evening once my fulminations were complete and we all had a peaceful, happy and pleasant time. Whatever derailment of the Newton Flyer there might have been had been rectified and we found ourselves back on course for the e of t. All is well; all is calm, all is (well, most of the time) bright.
Thank you to those who expressed concern about my health in the light of the fact that yesterday's blog entry didn't get posted until late in the day: I can assure all of you that I am now in rude health (no, I'll forego the pleasure I could have had there, for the sake of decency) and it's only because the end-of-term timetable is so different from the norm that it's sometimes quite difficult to find a slot where I can indulge. But I'm touched that you care, and I'm delighted that some of you do read my ramblings! I sometimes think that I'm churning out this stuff simply because I enjoy writing it! And if my computer, which has just told me that it wants to turn itself off and restart does anything of the kind, it will find itself as the recipient of punitive action far beyond anything that any Newtonian has had to bear!
Safe so far - although it's still making ominous gurgling noises. I think I'll stop there, just in case.
An e-mail from Miss Chloe, by the way, informs me that she has a pet wombat. Yes, I thought you'd like that snippet. More tomorrow.
Well, it worked. Last night was a lovely evening once my fulminations were complete and we all had a peaceful, happy and pleasant time. Whatever derailment of the Newton Flyer there might have been had been rectified and we found ourselves back on course for the e of t. All is well; all is calm, all is (well, most of the time) bright.
Thank you to those who expressed concern about my health in the light of the fact that yesterday's blog entry didn't get posted until late in the day: I can assure all of you that I am now in rude health (no, I'll forego the pleasure I could have had there, for the sake of decency) and it's only because the end-of-term timetable is so different from the norm that it's sometimes quite difficult to find a slot where I can indulge. But I'm touched that you care, and I'm delighted that some of you do read my ramblings! I sometimes think that I'm churning out this stuff simply because I enjoy writing it! And if my computer, which has just told me that it wants to turn itself off and restart does anything of the kind, it will find itself as the recipient of punitive action far beyond anything that any Newtonian has had to bear!
Safe so far - although it's still making ominous gurgling noises. I think I'll stop there, just in case.
An e-mail from Miss Chloe, by the way, informs me that she has a pet wombat. Yes, I thought you'd like that snippet. More tomorrow.
Wednesday 9 December 2009
People, I am not a very happy bunny. There are several reasons for that, and the one that makes me particularly sad is that last night we had a case of what can only be called bullying. That, about which more in a moment - and it's a very good job I never mention any names on this blog - and an unacceptable degree of silliness and lack of respect last night for my assistant, Mr Bryan, has made me very disappointed.
If one is being charitable, I suppose the bullying incident (and you will note that I have not, as I often do with such words, placed it in inverted commas) was a case of two ten-year-olds having a go at one another, but what makes it unacceptable is that it became unpleasant. I have spoken very firmly indeed to the two Newtonians involved, and made it as clear as I know how that this kind of behaviour is utterly contrary to the conduct code that Diana and I insist upon, and I can only hope that the degree of contrition shown by both was genuine. It had better be.
As for the over-exuberance, well, that's just Christmas, I suppose. But I'd welcome any parental back-up that you can offer, because I want the last few days of this term to be fun for all of us, not ones in which I become more and more cantankerous and have to exercise more leash-tightening than I would wish.
Grrrr. I shall tell Sarnta if they're not careful. So they'd better watch out - as the song suggests.
If one is being charitable, I suppose the bullying incident (and you will note that I have not, as I often do with such words, placed it in inverted commas) was a case of two ten-year-olds having a go at one another, but what makes it unacceptable is that it became unpleasant. I have spoken very firmly indeed to the two Newtonians involved, and made it as clear as I know how that this kind of behaviour is utterly contrary to the conduct code that Diana and I insist upon, and I can only hope that the degree of contrition shown by both was genuine. It had better be.
As for the over-exuberance, well, that's just Christmas, I suppose. But I'd welcome any parental back-up that you can offer, because I want the last few days of this term to be fun for all of us, not ones in which I become more and more cantankerous and have to exercise more leash-tightening than I would wish.
Grrrr. I shall tell Sarnta if they're not careful. So they'd better watch out - as the song suggests.
Tuesday 8 December 2009
Thanks to the parents' evening, and after many very agreeable conversations with Fifth Year parents,I strolled back into Newton just after my dear wife had extinguished all of the lights. By that I mean that she had turned them out, rather than that they went out as a result of her blowing a fuse.
Such casual behaviour on my part meant that I had to wait until this morning (after a rather fitful night, spent, for the most part, worrying about Tom spending time in the Land of the Rising Sun. Ha! There's an phonetic irony: land of the rising son! As if. Still, you never know) until I saw the decorations and Christmas trees festooning the dorms! I think a little bit of licence was taken as far as the interpretation of when such adornment of the sleeping quarters might occur, but as the deputy headmaster did not visit Newton last night I think they (i.e.: we) got away with it. And it does make the place look very jolly.
I forgot to tell you that Diana was savaged in Lloyds Bank the other day. Oh don't worry, it was only verbally. When she told me about her unfortunate encounter I couldn't help but think that if I'd been a bank robber and seen what awaited me I would have nipped up the road to HSBC. Perhaps Lloyds have started a new security initiative. (Oh smacked hand. I'm a great fan of 'Mock the Week'. I know it's outrageous and I shouldn't be.)
All of the residents were very sleepy this morning when I woke them, but they soon got into gear and they were all out of lodge punctually. I've been feeling slightly under the weather for the past three days and this culminated in my developing a very seductive voice this morning. Not great for a lodge parent, of course, for all kinds of reasons, but I was touched by one, who, on hearing me acknowledge his 'good morning' with a voice that sounded like gravel rolled in treacle, enquired, 'Are you all right, sir?'
I'm fine. Especially as Mr Bryan's on duty tonight. I can go to bed with a hot toddy. Not the innuendos, if you don't mind.
Such casual behaviour on my part meant that I had to wait until this morning (after a rather fitful night, spent, for the most part, worrying about Tom spending time in the Land of the Rising Sun. Ha! There's an phonetic irony: land of the rising son! As if. Still, you never know) until I saw the decorations and Christmas trees festooning the dorms! I think a little bit of licence was taken as far as the interpretation of when such adornment of the sleeping quarters might occur, but as the deputy headmaster did not visit Newton last night I think they (i.e.: we) got away with it. And it does make the place look very jolly.
I forgot to tell you that Diana was savaged in Lloyds Bank the other day. Oh don't worry, it was only verbally. When she told me about her unfortunate encounter I couldn't help but think that if I'd been a bank robber and seen what awaited me I would have nipped up the road to HSBC. Perhaps Lloyds have started a new security initiative. (Oh smacked hand. I'm a great fan of 'Mock the Week'. I know it's outrageous and I shouldn't be.)
All of the residents were very sleepy this morning when I woke them, but they soon got into gear and they were all out of lodge punctually. I've been feeling slightly under the weather for the past three days and this culminated in my developing a very seductive voice this morning. Not great for a lodge parent, of course, for all kinds of reasons, but I was touched by one, who, on hearing me acknowledge his 'good morning' with a voice that sounded like gravel rolled in treacle, enquired, 'Are you all right, sir?'
I'm fine. Especially as Mr Bryan's on duty tonight. I can go to bed with a hot toddy. Not the innuendos, if you don't mind.
Monday 7 December 2009
I was always told by my various English teachers that I should never begin any piece of writing with the word 'well'. But rules, of course, are made to be broken.
Well! That was an interesting weekend! I hope that all of you had a great time with your young, and now we can look forward to the winding down (er, up,) of the end of term.
I am pleased to report that I have now completed all of my reports, but, thanks to the machinations of our wonderful new system, I can change any of them at any time! I shall not hesitate to inform any of my pupils of that particular feature of the system if any of them should consider, for more than a nano-second, that their lodge master/English/French teacher needs winding up!
That all sounds a bit tetchy, doesn't it? I suppose the nearest I can get to an excuse is that I had to say goodbye to our son, Tom, this morning, as he left for Japan or seven months. All a bit emotional, I fear, and I'm afraid that I'm not very good at farewells - especially when it involves one's own family members. I received a text message from Hannah, our daughter, asking me directly whether I cried. Of course not. i.e.: yes. I have to say, though, that my distress was somewhat alleviated by the fact that when he checked in, was informed that although he was in economy class from London to Zurich, hehad been upgraded to Business Class thereafter. All right for some. And I've just learnt from the Swissair website that he's landed in Tokyo. I'm sure his girlfriend, Risa, will be very pleased - as are we.
Ruthie, if you're reading this, which I'm sure you are, thanks for everything. I have just heard from your successor, Miss Chloe, that she will be taking over from you in January. She sounds almost as nice as you, and I hope that she will have a very happy time with us.
Chloe, if you're reading this, which I'm sure you are, we're really looking forward to welcoming you here, and I hope that you will have a very happy time with us.
Do you think I got away with that? I'm sure one or both of them will let me know!
It's great to have your little men back with us. It's strange how we miss them. No, honestly - we do!
Well! That was an interesting weekend! I hope that all of you had a great time with your young, and now we can look forward to the winding down (er, up,) of the end of term.
I am pleased to report that I have now completed all of my reports, but, thanks to the machinations of our wonderful new system, I can change any of them at any time! I shall not hesitate to inform any of my pupils of that particular feature of the system if any of them should consider, for more than a nano-second, that their lodge master/English/French teacher needs winding up!
That all sounds a bit tetchy, doesn't it? I suppose the nearest I can get to an excuse is that I had to say goodbye to our son, Tom, this morning, as he left for Japan or seven months. All a bit emotional, I fear, and I'm afraid that I'm not very good at farewells - especially when it involves one's own family members. I received a text message from Hannah, our daughter, asking me directly whether I cried. Of course not. i.e.: yes. I have to say, though, that my distress was somewhat alleviated by the fact that when he checked in, was informed that although he was in economy class from London to Zurich, hehad been upgraded to Business Class thereafter. All right for some. And I've just learnt from the Swissair website that he's landed in Tokyo. I'm sure his girlfriend, Risa, will be very pleased - as are we.
Ruthie, if you're reading this, which I'm sure you are, thanks for everything. I have just heard from your successor, Miss Chloe, that she will be taking over from you in January. She sounds almost as nice as you, and I hope that she will have a very happy time with us.
Chloe, if you're reading this, which I'm sure you are, we're really looking forward to welcoming you here, and I hope that you will have a very happy time with us.
Do you think I got away with that? I'm sure one or both of them will let me know!
It's great to have your little men back with us. It's strange how we miss them. No, honestly - we do!
Thursday 3 December 2009
We all thoroughly enjoyed the First Year play tonight - and it was terrific. Mrs Stoop's debut as director was one to remember for all the right reasons and she can afford to be very proud.
It was all pretty liberal here tonight (yet with firm hand just touching the tiller, just in case things should go awry. Which they didn't.) The ubiqutous 'it' was leagues, cords and guernseys tonight, and once we'd collected them all in, we were able to enjoy an evening which offered the options of games in the dorms, 'Bang Goes the Theory' on TV in Curlew, or Heart FM in the common room. All accompanied by orange segments, custard creams and the last remaining geological evidence that there had once been a chocolate mountain. It was suggested by one resident that the common room should be re-styled as the 'Newton Club', as there was a fair amount of dancing to the music going on, so I'm waiting for a suitable name to be dreamt up!
As for the decorations saga, I am pleased to report (although the Newtonians are not pleased to learn) that the pronouncement from on high, which has now become an SF numbered policy (something like SF/6574/Dec/09/RB/CS/1a, and it forbids the embellishment of any dorm until after the forthcoming short leave, and then only with the express per of the Deputy Head. (Who will probably have to access a permission form from the policy file before it can be authorised.)
And talking of dancing, as I was earlier, picture the following scene:
Me, on seeing a Heronian dancing in a rather eccentric manner: "Would you mind getting into your bed, rather than performing Japanese ballet?"
Another Heronian: "Sir, what does Japanese ballet look like?"
Me (without hesitation; it's that time of term): "Like this."
I then, for reasons that any psychiatrist would explain rather quickly, decided to give a demonstration of the said dancing genre, including what I thought was a rather good pirouette, culminating in a leap across the floor.
"Like that." I said.
Once the Heronians had picked themselves up from under their duvets and wiped their eyes (in amazement, I think, I told them that that was probably the first and last time a Newton lodgemaster would give a demonstration of Japanese ballet.
Oh well, Tom's off to Japan for seven months on Monday morning, so he can tell me all about what it's really like when he gets back.
It was all pretty liberal here tonight (yet with firm hand just touching the tiller, just in case things should go awry. Which they didn't.) The ubiqutous 'it' was leagues, cords and guernseys tonight, and once we'd collected them all in, we were able to enjoy an evening which offered the options of games in the dorms, 'Bang Goes the Theory' on TV in Curlew, or Heart FM in the common room. All accompanied by orange segments, custard creams and the last remaining geological evidence that there had once been a chocolate mountain. It was suggested by one resident that the common room should be re-styled as the 'Newton Club', as there was a fair amount of dancing to the music going on, so I'm waiting for a suitable name to be dreamt up!
As for the decorations saga, I am pleased to report (although the Newtonians are not pleased to learn) that the pronouncement from on high, which has now become an SF numbered policy (something like SF/6574/Dec/09/RB/CS/1a, and it forbids the embellishment of any dorm until after the forthcoming short leave, and then only with the express per of the Deputy Head. (Who will probably have to access a permission form from the policy file before it can be authorised.)
And talking of dancing, as I was earlier, picture the following scene:
Me, on seeing a Heronian dancing in a rather eccentric manner: "Would you mind getting into your bed, rather than performing Japanese ballet?"
Another Heronian: "Sir, what does Japanese ballet look like?"
Me (without hesitation; it's that time of term): "Like this."
I then, for reasons that any psychiatrist would explain rather quickly, decided to give a demonstration of the said dancing genre, including what I thought was a rather good pirouette, culminating in a leap across the floor.
"Like that." I said.
Once the Heronians had picked themselves up from under their duvets and wiped their eyes (in amazement, I think, I told them that that was probably the first and last time a Newton lodgemaster would give a demonstration of Japanese ballet.
Oh well, Tom's off to Japan for seven months on Monday morning, so he can tell me all about what it's really like when he gets back.
Wednesday 2 December 2009
'Vengeance is mine', etc. I knew I should have left the chocolate mountain alone in the first place, rather than brag about the fact that I'd found it. While shaving this morning, which is usually a time for quiet contemplation and focus on the demands of the day, as I've mentioned before on this blog, there was a very unpleasant twang from my back, which proved to be so agonising that I practically fell to the ground. I felt like the dentist in that well-known Mr Bean sketch where Mr B accidentally jabs the anaesthetic syringe into the leg of the dental practicioner. The humourous element of the said sketch, though, was sadly lacking in my particular version.
So, depsite counsel from Mrs C and a visit to Hobsons, I'm hobbling around the place like someone twice my age. Well, a few years older, perhaps. OK, a year older. The boys, I must say, are being remarkably sympathetic.
Mr Bryan tells me that all went well, although he was (not) surprised by one or two Newtonians who decided that newer members of staff might not be fully aware of episcopalian regulations concerning the adornment of the lodge by decoration, and 'tried it on'. I suppose you can't blame them, really; didn't we all try something similar during our schooldays? What the residents had not recalled, however, that Mr Bryan is a Cambridge Classics graduate, with a fine degree, and therefore at least five, if not more, steps ahead of even the most laser-beam-minded Newtonian. Oh yes. He could see right through it. (Dangerous that, you know, as the Chaplain reminded us on Sunday.)
Of course, there always has to be one, doesn't there. Clever-clogs incarnate, who decides that he's not going to accept any of this 'you-can't-put decorations-up-until-Mr-Bishop-says-so' lark. So what does he do? He takes it to the top. To Mr BT- and asks him.
And what does Mr BT say? He says it's up the lodge master. Oh great. I will not bore you with the minutiae (again), I will simply tell you that a Casesarean decree about Christmas decorations, from somewhere above was passed this morning.
So, depsite counsel from Mrs C and a visit to Hobsons, I'm hobbling around the place like someone twice my age. Well, a few years older, perhaps. OK, a year older. The boys, I must say, are being remarkably sympathetic.
Mr Bryan tells me that all went well, although he was (not) surprised by one or two Newtonians who decided that newer members of staff might not be fully aware of episcopalian regulations concerning the adornment of the lodge by decoration, and 'tried it on'. I suppose you can't blame them, really; didn't we all try something similar during our schooldays? What the residents had not recalled, however, that Mr Bryan is a Cambridge Classics graduate, with a fine degree, and therefore at least five, if not more, steps ahead of even the most laser-beam-minded Newtonian. Oh yes. He could see right through it. (Dangerous that, you know, as the Chaplain reminded us on Sunday.)
Of course, there always has to be one, doesn't there. Clever-clogs incarnate, who decides that he's not going to accept any of this 'you-can't-put decorations-up-until-Mr-Bishop-says-so' lark. So what does he do? He takes it to the top. To Mr BT- and asks him.
And what does Mr BT say? He says it's up the lodge master. Oh great. I will not bore you with the minutiae (again), I will simply tell you that a Casesarean decree about Christmas decorations, from somewhere above was passed this morning.
Tuesday 1 December 2009
In my (very brief) study of 'pataphysics, so beloved of Paul McCartney, I read about 'the tangential point between zero and infinity'. I mention that because, to lower the tone somewhat, from the mega-intellectual to the subterranean, having written my very up-beat post, I went from 'Ho ho ho' to 'No no no!' in minus seconds after lights out, following some very 'unfortunate' behaviour after lights out.
There we were, Mrs C and I, happily taking stock of the day, reading the paper with David Attenborough's voice purring away in the background, the dog supine on the sofa when I became aware of an ominous clomping from above. It's a familiar sound, and it always heralds trouble. I raced upstairs.
"Explain!" I commanded, upon seeing four recidivistic Newtonians fooling around in the vins.
I was then treated to a less than fascinating exegesis on exactly why it was that certain people were being de-bagged, and why there should be much to-ing and fro-ing. I decided that, if this state of affairs were to be nipped in the embryonic bud, I needed back-up.
"H'm. Let's see what the Director of Boarding has to say about this, shall we? I'll ring Mr Sparrow on my mobile."
The guilty looked anxious.
"Ring ring, ring ring. Hello?"
"Ah, Mr Sparrow." I then put his voice onto loudspeaker and provided him with chapter and verse. The guilty looked even more anxious.
"I think they need to come and see me in Mayfield at 7.20 tomorrow morning, Mr Cheater. I look forward to their arrival."
Well, arrive they did - and I haven't heard any more about it. I hope I don't. I think they did, though.
They can run, but they can't hide.
There we were, Mrs C and I, happily taking stock of the day, reading the paper with David Attenborough's voice purring away in the background, the dog supine on the sofa when I became aware of an ominous clomping from above. It's a familiar sound, and it always heralds trouble. I raced upstairs.
"Explain!" I commanded, upon seeing four recidivistic Newtonians fooling around in the vins.
I was then treated to a less than fascinating exegesis on exactly why it was that certain people were being de-bagged, and why there should be much to-ing and fro-ing. I decided that, if this state of affairs were to be nipped in the embryonic bud, I needed back-up.
"H'm. Let's see what the Director of Boarding has to say about this, shall we? I'll ring Mr Sparrow on my mobile."
The guilty looked anxious.
"Ring ring, ring ring. Hello?"
"Ah, Mr Sparrow." I then put his voice onto loudspeaker and provided him with chapter and verse. The guilty looked even more anxious.
"I think they need to come and see me in Mayfield at 7.20 tomorrow morning, Mr Cheater. I look forward to their arrival."
Well, arrive they did - and I haven't heard any more about it. I hope I don't. I think they did, though.
They can run, but they can't hide.
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