Well, it may be 01h33, but it occurs to me that I have not written an entry for my blog since December. So, I am going to remedy this situation.
It is half-term again, so I am on holiday. Consequently, I do not greatly care that I am writing this in the small hours of the morning.
Much has happened since I last wrote here. Unfortunately, much of it was about as interesting as St. John the Bapstist’s underwear, which partly explains the lack of continuity since 14th December.
One interesting thing was a visit to Holland (again) in the February half-term, which reminds me, I have not yet uploaded the photos from the trip – perhaps I shall do that tomorrow.
Holland was great – and very cold. In fact, the inside of the church of Sint Bavo, Haarlem, was so cold that I thought that I would freeze. Fortunately, I did not. Unfortunately neither did I get to play the extremely sexy Christian Müller organ on the west gallery. Still, at least I did get to see it; on all previous occasions, the church has been locked, regardless of the time of day.
By now, you are probably beginning to realize that indeed, nothing exciting has happened for ages.
Life meanders on. School is still there – although there were a few doubtful moments last week when the Year 13 students left. A Year 8 boy was wrapped in Cling-film (and then liberally doused in water), a Year 10 boy was tied to a tree and a Year 8 boy was Duck-taped to the underside of a desk. Actually, that last one was quite amusing and inventive – unless of course, you happen to be that Year 8 boy…. Last year, one boy had his trousers forcibly removed and stuck up the flag-pole. After about thirty minutes, he managed to prevail on a friend to take pity on him and retrieve them.
Then there were the chickens – last year, one student (one of my pupils) hit upon the bright idea of hiring four chickens (via an agent) and bringing them into school, having first numbered them ‘1’, ‘2’, ‘4’ and ‘5’, in the hope that, after releasing them into the central quad, we would assume that there were five of the wretched things and spend hours searching for the elusive number ‘3’. Unfortunately for this boy, another of my pupils had learned of the plan, and had (sensibly) informed me. So, when the Year 13 boy arrived at school, clutching a large box, I intercepted him and rescued the chickens. Just as well really, since the stupid sod had forgotten to put any means of ventilation in the box and the chickens were more distressed than if they had been sharing their forced billet with Dale Winton. As it transpired, we decided to give the chickens to another member of staff, who happened to have a smallholding (although his wife quite likes it). The only disappointment was that I was not there to witness the hapless sixth-form boy trying to explain to a very angry farmer why he was unable to return the chickens.
This year, we managed to avoid the risk of Legionnaire’s Disease – we found out about the plan to place dead fish in the water supply for the air-conditioning just before the school closed for the holiday. In any case, this one had been tried before – fortunately with no success.
I am determined that this holiday is not going to pass in a maelstrom of DVD-watching, sleeping and drinking. Therefore, I have invited myself for several meals at the homes of various of my friends. This is basically a sound plan, since it ensures that I only have to provide myself with little snacks at mid-day, as opposed to roasting half an oxen whilst watching the Six-o’-clock News (in order to see if John Prescott has been sacked, yet). There are two further advantages to this course of action – I also get to investigate the contents of my friends’ wine cellars and I do not have to wash the dishes. Now, before you all think that I am some kind of slothful slob, all of my friends have diswashers – thank God.
Well, since it is now almost at the point when going to bed would be about as practical as fitting wheels to a tomato, I had best crawl into my little pit and become horizontal for a few hours. I have a busy day ahead. After visiting B & Q (a local hardware superstore) I plan to festoon the outside of my house with hanging baskets, in order to compensate for the lousy weather (and to deter Jehovah's Witnesses from visiting). I did consider putting them inside the house (the baskets - not the Jehovah's Witnesses), but there is little enough room as it is. The watering process would also be a bit messy.
Ah well - nighters!
Oh, I almost forgot – St. John the Baptist’s underpants – they were made from woven goat’s pubic hairs.