Friday, 9 July 2010

THIS IS THE 200TH POST!!!!! But have you read number 199 yet?!

YES, THIS REALLY IS NUMBER 200! HONESTLY!

And just in case you maybe thinking that my maths is as suspect as I claim it to be, when I mentioned that post number 197 was 197, it was, in fact, 198. Thus, you see, my mathematical prowess is not quite as erratic as all that. As someone once said, there are three types of mathematician: the ones who can do it - and the ones who can't. And on that note, I sign off and wish you all very happy and successful onward journeys.

HAVE A GREAT SUMMER HOLIDAY - AND THANK YOU FOR READING.

Oh my Lord! What an evening! Just in case you should be thinking that your correspondent might have been a touch stressed of late, it's only because I was charged with the great privilege of providing the farewell 'do' for the BTs. Well, I scripted the event, inveigled a few of my colleagues into getting involved, incorporated the amazing services of Mr Randolph and his merry men, and the whole thing, even though it is unbelievably arrogant of me to say so,was better than even my wildest dreams could have envisaged.The event ended with me, dressed as a crazy Frenchman, narrating the valedictory lines to out leader and his leaderine, and then the whole school singing three verses of 'Abide with me', after an hour and a bit's worth of wonderful enteratainment of every kind, ranging from singing to magic, from oration to comedy. I was, as they say, au dessus de la lune.

Back to lodge thereafter, and back to packing - and then to the lodge party, which was a wonderful affair: crisps, coke, cake and all the things that make up a Newtonian dream. Pinot Grigio for some of us, and Sprite for others; it was, as T S Eliot would definitely have opined, 'satisfactory'. In fact it was a jolly sight more than that: it was tremendous, and every single Newtonian was a joy to entertain in the main Newton garden. Lots of photos, and if I can get them printed, or whatever you do with photos these days (I've only just acquired a digital camera!!) you'll be able to see what it was all about. The Director of Music appeared out of nowehere, as did the Deputy Headmaster, both wanting their whistles wetted, and all of whose were.

And now they're all in bed - and asleep. And you know what? I really think they are.

They've been lovely - and D and will miss them enormously. Thank you for entrusting them to our care, and thank you for all your amazing support and kindness throughout this year. I've loved writing the blog every night, and we've loved your LMs to bits.

It's midnight - and we're going to bed.

Night night.

Thursday, 8 July 2010

One hundred and ninety-seven - and counting. Quite where the rest are going to come from (me, obviously) is something of a mystery.

As I passed one of the dorms tonight, I enquired of the three residents therein whether they were planning on visiting the showers. The response 'We're obsessed with massaging, sir' was an interesting one, and perhaps enough said about that. Let's move on.

The nightmare of packing has begun, and cases have begun moving from cupboard to laundry to dorm, and I found myself with clipboard and pencil, issuing instructions left, right and centre. Those involved were particularly helpful, and nothing seemed to go awry at all - which simply serves to remind me that your LMs have grown up a great deal since the beginning of the year.

There were, for a few moments, no lights upstairs tonight. They were, as the young will have it, well-impressed by their lodgemaster's electrical skills, as the lights were re-illuminated.

Amazing how you can impress people by flicking a switch. And no, that one's not a metaphor.

More tomorrow - and it should be an interesting one, for reasons I can't tell you now.

Godnight.

Wednesday, 7 July 2010

My friends, I have come to despise my security installation. I cannot tell you how much I hate it, nor what I would like to do to it, because I have just spent the past ten minutes logging on to this 'ere blog, while that stupid, hateful little revolving arrow goes round and round in the name of assuring me that it's preventing me from being attacked by people whose sole intention in life is to destroy the computers of those who want nothing more than to use said machines for harmless purposes. And I tell you, if I ever come across one of those pathetic saddoes ..... (I had, at this stage, actually written down what I would do to him or her, but as I frightened even myself by doing so, I deleted it.)

To nicer things. Thank you, Follower dear, for giving me the encouragment I needed to reach the milestone of 200 posts! I will certainly try to do it, although just at the moment, when there's so much going on that sleep is something of a luxury, if I do it, I shall be more than amazed. But yes, I do really enjoy writing it.

You know, considering we are withing a couple of days of the e of t, it's amazing how calm everything is atm. We welcomed next year's Newtonians here tonight, for a pre-installation visit - and they were lovely. Not, of course, as lovely as your little men, but very decent types all the same. My valedictory comments to your LLMs will be very different from what my housemaster said, when we left the junior house of my senior school, i.e.: "You're the worst house I've ever, ever had. But you're better than last year's." I think it was meant to be vaguely amusing. He was, in fact, quite a nice chap - although when I sat on a bed in one of the dorms and went through it (yeah, very funny: I haven't always been this shape you know), I was less than impressed when he accused me of 'mucking around with the other boys in the dorm'. Try as I might, he wouldn't believe that I'd simply sat on the wretched thing and that it had collapsed. He it was who, when inviting me to translate some particularly challenging passage of Moliere about horses travelling up a hill, enquired of me "So, Cheater, I suppose to you this is all about couple of horses going up a hill, pulling into a lay-by, having a cup of tea, is it?" Frankly, it might as well have been. I replied that it didn't, which resulted in being instructed to translate it correctly, making a complete b****-up of it and receiving an almighty b*******ing as a result.

Halcyon days.

Tuesday, 6 July 2010

It's late, my friends, but all is well. The end of term is upon us and things seem to be winding up or down as they should at the moment - but it would be very foolish of me to assume that nothing untoward will occur between now and Saturday! Mr B has been on duty tonight, but please don't imagine for a moment that I've been idle: there is much to do and these so-called 'nights off' at this time of the term involve more than just thumb-twiddling.

Tom has a friend from Germany staying at the moment, and I fear that my own knowledge of their language goes back to O level in 1967. So when I tried saying 'Ich habe Deutschen gelernen wenn ich war am den Schule, aber ich habe alles vergessen' (which I actually thought was pretty impressive), the response I received from our Teutonic guest was 'I can tell that, actually'. And I suppose, in a funny sort of way, I should have been pleased by that. I have to admit that said friend is one of the most amusing young people I have ever come across, as his comedic timing is second to none.

He did, though, think my rendition of Beethoven's 'Pathetique' sonata was pretty commendable, and gave it a good mark. I had to learn it when I was am den Schule, you see, and it's amazing how such things stay with one for the rest of one's days. That, and Rachmaninoff's C sharp minor Prelude: those are the two pivotal moments, I think. If you have the time, do listen to both works, and then, if you're feeling vaguely melancholic for any reason, may I recommend the second movement of Mozart's Piano Concerto in A major, K 488? Stunning. Try it. Oh go on, you can download it from iTunes, or whatever they're called. (And if you really want a good cry, then the slow movement of Shostakovitch's 2nd Piano Concerto will finish you off.)

Enjoy - and gute nacht.

Monday, 5 July 2010

Sadly, chaps and chapesses, I don't think I'm quite going to make it to the 200th post. This, by the way, is number 193.

I recovered from yesterday's Aloa by strolling down to the end of year 'do' that was kindly provided by our head of English, which was a fine going down bash, and plenty to eat and drink, with sparkling conversation a-plenty. At the end, though, when most had made for their beds, your correspondent found himself once again as the meagre filling in a doctoral sandwich, endeavouring to keep up with the pace as we journeyed through Shakespeare's works and the writings of many other celebrated authors, before philosophising (well, you do, don't you, when one is trying to remain afloat in a veritable ocean of erudition) about things various. I knew my place, of course, and demoted myself to the position of court jester, telling a couple of faintly amusing anecdotes, at which the doctored ones were kind enough to emit loud guffaws of appreciative laughter, causing one such almost to choke on his Gruyere.

Tonight has been just another night, really. Everyone's seemed in good spirits (as my housemaster said to me as I returned through the window of the prefects' room in 1970, after a perfetcly splendid evening in the fine city of Bath), jammy dodgers were plentiful - and I don't just mean the ones who tried to skip showering - and there was an air of decent happiness from within and without. Lots of pings and pongs (the latter from the ones who got away with not showering), no telly because it's not telly night, but pleasant convo in the clubhouse, and a thoroughly pleasant evening all round.

So yes: all is well here tonight. As a French oral candidate once said to our head of mod lang, 'C'est tout, really'.

Bonne nuit.

Sunday, 4 July 2010

Another good, but quasi-emotional day today, as it was 'Leavers' Day', with a good chapel service this morning, and then what some might call lunch after that. To be fair, it was more akin to some semi-Hawaii-an 'hola', or whatever you call Hawaiian celebrations, as such was its theme, and I was bedecked by one of my tutees with Hawaii-an stuff, which made me feel - and look, probably - most uncomfortable. I will restrain myself from making any further comment, as I'd probably disgrace myself if I did. Still, I suppose if all you want is a half-ripe tomato and a dimunitive faggot on a stick, you could do a lot worse. And then there's lunch, of course. (I shall be taken off-air before long if I keep these innuendi going.)

It was our daughter's 21st last yesterday, and we all went off to a well-know restaurant on The High for a celebratory meal. The food was amazing, everyone was on top form, and we all had a great time. Tom and I were so impressed by the standard that we found ourselves coming up with slogans that were pertinent, and so I give you 'There's cod, but my God, there's Quod cod', which I thought rather fine.

We returned to find Mr Randolph in the garden: no, not to worry, we'd asked him to look after Newton in our absence, so, on a beautiful balmy night, Messrs Randolph, Cheater and Cheater polished off une demi-bouteille de Chablis amid much merriment.

I was approached by a mummy. "You know xxxxx xxxxxx, don't you!" Well, as the young will have it, I couldn't help but think 'OMG'. "My goodness, yes!" I replied, "but that was in Rio in 1979!" She then passed on lots of love and best wishes, and I was indeed transported back to Copacabana Beach, Corcovado and all those caiphrinae! I was delighted, of course, to be informed that I had not been forgotten, and was feeling pretty cool about that - until, yes, until, the aforementioned mummy advised me that the lady of whom she spoke was one of her mother's best friends ........

Oh, and just in case you're wondering when Mrs C and I were married: 1981.

Friday, 2 July 2010

We all went to the Play tonight: it was excellent and greatly enjoyed. So well done, Dr Dean: good to know that the Newton flag is still flying in as many areas of the school as possible. And between my various assistants, Messrs Dean, Bryan, Porter and Randolph (I hope the good doctor won't mind being a Messr just this once), I think we can lay claim to a reasonably comprehensive sweep.

As for my own Newtonian responsibility tonight, well, that was spent largely in the company of an RAC patrol man, who had kindly arrived to sort out the flat battery on my car. He was, in fact, the third such gentleman to visit the school campus in as many days, but the only one who seemed to have any idea of how to fix the problem. He duly did so, and my much-loved old girl is now good for another few years. Now. Back to the car. (It's a good job Mrs C doesn't read this blog - as one of you observed the other day ....... ) (She will when it gets published.) Seriously though (insofar as I can ever get serious in this nightly reportage), he was excellent and managed to sort everything out very professionally. He informed me, with not a little pride, that he had been the RAC's youngest patrol man for two years. He fitted a new battery, charged me another shedload, and went on his way. So that, in addition to the great-train-robbery amount of dosh that I handed over to the local Volvo dealer two weeks ago, means that I shall now go and avail myself of whatever there is in the fridge/cupboard. Or rather, isn't. No, that doesn't really work, does it. One can't avail oneself of what there isn't.

Nearly at 200 posts - and I might just make it. Anyone got any great ideas for a title for this magnum opus?

Bonne nuit

Thursday, 1 July 2010

Honestly. Sometimes I just can't win here, you know. All but three residents made it back to lodge on time, and were happily showering, playing games, out in the garden or engaged in some appropriate activity and all was well. But where, I wondered, where the rest? I went out onto the drive and waited. Mrs C, who was awaiting their P and S for laundry purposes (I'm sure there must be a great word for that, but I'm afraid I'm not aware of its existence), had advised that I should give short shrift to the aforementioned recidivists, so I was psyching myself up for the experience.

The whole episode reminded me of 'Journey of the Magi', but with specific variations. For a start, they didn't have much of a cold coming, apart from the one who'd been sprayed with a garden hose over in the gardens, allegedly, and their reception was a pretty hot one. I was informed that they had lost track of time (I suppose you do if you're on the back of a camel - in the snow - and the only helpful timepiece you have is a moving star) and were not doing anything more than a bit of harmless watering. Of plants. Er, no. Of each other. I went into overdrive.

"This is the second night running you've been late! Where on earth do you think you've been?!"

(Daft question: they'd already told me where they'd been.)

"You've been keeping Mrs Cheater and Miss Chloe waiting again ...... " on and on went the fascinating discourse on why they should be more aware of time, etc., etc., etc. Anyway, our little triumvirate looked suitably chastened and went off to shower themselves. (As if they needed it, after what they'd been up to with the hose.)

I went into the laundry, where jammy dodgers were, I imagined, awaiting consumption. Fat chance.

Alice C, 17, currently a gapper at another prep school, so therefore knows all there is to know about handling prep school children: "Did you really need to get that cross? They're only Year 6s, you know."

Mrs C, (age undisclosed) not known for her tolerance of tardy behaviour: "Why did you have to get so cross with them? They're only little."

Miss Chloe, 18, SF gapper and knows which side her bread's buttered: "I thought it was great. I remember the first time I got really cross ......... " - yes, thank you, Chloe.

You'd think the residents would be petrified of the ogre who's pounding out this bloglog, woul you not? Well, they're not, it seems. At 8.45pm tonight, I executed (no, don't worry) one of my 'silent reading megadecibelic cries. Expecting Curlew dorm to be scattering to the bathroom, I walked in to the dorm. Had even one of them moved? Had they heck as like. I told them, nicely, to get a move on and walked upstairs to Kingfisher, in which lay one of the tardy trio.

"Sir, " he smiled from his bed, "Sorry about being late earlier."

!!!

Goodnight.