Sailing goals 2008.

Some Three Rivers 'action' from last weekend.

Thanks toTillerman for providing appropriate inspiration for this, my 600th post.
I had been waiting for the right topic to come along and he has provided a grand idea, a practical objective, a real thing about which to write. Not for this post the hypothetical ramblings of the possible footballing success of foreigners, nor the wranglings of the Democratic Party, nor even jottings related to cycling mishaps. The Tillerman has issued another of his agreeable writing challenges.

He has asked his audience to write about our sailing goals for 2008.

I grew up sailing in these parts and since returning from NYC have been keen to get back in the Norfolk groove. The winter and restoration of the family home have stalled the ambitions up to this point. But all that's done, now is the time for action.

My goal for this year is very simple, highly achievable and I think , dare I say it, lots of fun.

I just want to get back on the water as often as possible.

I also want to reconnect with one of my finest sailing chums of old, Mr Turner. I know he's about, just need to find him.
I have plenty of opportunities to get back on the water, from sail by the hour at the local broad to hiring halfdeckers from Hunters Yard. I have a number of excellent partners in crime who are busy planning days out, nights under canvas and even a 'boys weekend' .

Quite simply, lots of fun, cruising, bbq-ing, warm beering, cold beering (when technology permits), running, reaching, ducking, gybing, swearing and laughing, all in the next few glorious months of summer.

Thank you for listening.

Euro 2008

This is the question on everyone's mind at the moment.

Me?

I'm still trying to work out which team I love the most or hate the least.

Here are the options, I've highlighted my serious considerations (these people need to know if I'm on their side) based on some pretty flimsy evidence such as past holidays, encounters with nationals and national cuisine,

Group A

Swizterland
Czech Republic
Portugal
Turkey

Group B

Austria
Croatia
Germany
Poland

Group C

Romania
France
Holland
Italy

Group D

Spain
Russia
Greece
Sweden


Any ideas?

Crikey O'Reilly!

What a completely mental day!

First, The Wee Hen trips over in the back yard, cuts his top lip. Blood everywhere! Huge top lip swollen to Carbrooke! Of course, he's absolutely fine but it's a bit of a shocker.

Did I mention the fantastic weather had been washed away by some Test Match special wet weather and grey skies?
Yeah, try house arrest with a 16 month old with a swollen lip.

Second, the weather, oh, it's turned to poo.

Third, Frau Random Doubt has been poisoned by the Silver Fox. She's had a jippy tummy all day following some parental entertainment last night.

Fourth, The fucking car started smoking!

ON THE INSIDE!

Right where the steering column is.

It's not this year's model but we keep it in good order and get it serviced as often as is proper. We have also had the 'talk'. Both Frau Random Doubt and I are retired smokers and are as aware of the dangers as anyone. It's the disapointment that hurts.

Anyway, We were entering the car park of the Sainsbury centre so I pulled over, away from other vehicles just in case the rollerskate was gonna blow, evacuated Frau Random Doubt and the Wee Hen and called my Dad. He collected us a couple of hours later (after we had been around the exhibits and had a cup of tea) and after some consultation with Terry down at the garage and some minor poking under the bonnet I was told to drive to Terry's garage without indicating (we think it's the indicator fuse in the steering column that has been getting all smokey) You will be pleased to know that FRD and the Wee Hen travelled with the Silver Fox in safety whilst I flew the old girl back on a wing and a prayer and no indicating.

After a difficult bedtime I decided that I'd treat myself to a burn on the bike.



At least when you run and something goes wrong when you are 6 miles from home on the wrong end of a brilliantly muddy country track you don't have to walk home with a broken mountain bike.

Bugger.

Deputy Head interview questions

These are a bunch of questions I've been asked at interviews for Deputy Head jobs at village primary schools.
I'm publishing these from my black book of inset and professional development notes as a sort of public service. I hope that anyone else in my position will get some use out of them.
As for the normal readers, normal service will be resumed shortly.

"How has your teaching been affected by the renewed frameworks for Literacy and numeracy?"

"Describe a situation when you have raised standards, How did you do this?"

"Describe a situation where you have introduced and led an initiative to staff. How did you do this?"

"Tell us about your strengths."

"Tell us about your weaknesses."

"Describe a whole school situation you have helped to lead."

"What do you do when a teacher disagrees with your leadership?"

"Why did you apply for this post?"

"You spent five years in New York (this could easily translate to any large chunk of time in your CV), What did you learn from that time?"

"Why do you want to be a Deputy Head?"

"What will you bring to this post?"

"Tell us about an achievement that you are most proud of."

"How do you feel about parents?"

"Why do we assess children's learning?"

"What are your views regarding the VLE (Virtual Learning Environment)?

"Which part of the 'Every Child Matters' agenda do you think is most important?"

"Can you explain how you have used ICT in lessons?"

"What are the strengths of the topic approach?"

"How would you assess learning in a topic based environment?"

"What do you do if a parent starts shouting at you?"

"What do you do if you profoundly disagree with the Head?"

"How do you use assessment?"

"In your opinion, what is the point of the KS2 SATs in their present form?"

"Give an example of how you have made a difference to a child with special educational needs and how did this impact on the human rights of the other children in the class?"

"How would you support well being for support staff?"

"What do you see as the role of the Deputy Head in a small school?"

"How would you facilitate communications between the Head and staff?"

I spent some time online seeking out such questions and trying to formulate some answers. I found very little that was useful.

If you get an interview for a DH position be prepared to do a lot of homework and preperation, a great presentation, dress right up, play it like it's your own FA Cup Final and hit on the Governors, they will play a large role in your fate. 

I hope this will help somebody. The questions in italics were the ones that I have actually been asked, the rest are ones that I created based on advice and experience.

I've left out my responses because, well, I wasn't that successful, and I don't have all night!

Interview.

Apparently I waffled on a bit and didn't get straight to the point (BUT THAT"S MY CHARM!!!)

I'm not too worried, this was the last one this year so in a way it's nice to be able to relax a bit and not spend anymore evenings creating bizarre presentations and thinking of answers to every conceivable question that could conceivably be asked.

If truth be told I really only applied for this one because I was so spun out about not getting the last one.

There's footy on the telly tonight (can they both lose please?) Frau Random Doubt and The Wee Hen are both just fine, the sun is out and the world is going to hell in a handbasket.

Why Worry?

In a truly Mondale obsessive moment I should point out that I was beaten to the job by a young(ish) man with a very familiar surname. Makes my liberal credentials all tingly!

Interview

So the self indulgent quest for a promotion continues.

This time, instead of reading runes and drinking tea backwards for three days and nights prior to the interview I thought I'd just shout it out and let the blogworld know. The blogworld can than wish me luck and good fortune on Wednesday as I attempt (for the last time this academic year) to achieve a long held ambition.

As well as letting the blogworld know I'm also rather keen to get in there and do really well so that they have little choice but to offer me what seems to be a fascinating position.

The image?

Lovely isn't it?

It popped up when I google imaged 'Deputy Head'!

Cup Final Day!

Yeah!
It's the holiest day of the year!
This picture (from 1987, the only Cup Final that I have actually attended) sums it all up.
Have a good'un!

Hometown and Sincity Mercury

That's the name of our local rag.

This week I got a letter printed on the letters page!

It was a slightly tipsy rant about unruly dog owners, sadly I am unable to find the letter either online or on my computer (which is really, really wierd) and I'm not going to rewrite it. Also sadly, the letter did little good as this week's paper headlines the fact that the path in question has been closed. You can read the article (And wonder why I even bother with the pretence of geographical anonymity) right here.

Also, I'm gunning for Cardiff in this weekend's FA Cup final (holiest day of the year!!)
I've always been an admirer of most things Welsh and simply cannot abide Portsmouth.

Welsh things I like.

David Lloyd George

Gavin and Stacey (half welsh I know)

Super Furry Animals

Ewan Roberts

Catatonia

The Gower

Glenys Kinnock

The amazing Welsh swearing friend of a friend I spent an amusing weekend with a couple of years ago.

Nye Bevan.

I dunno, there's lots to like about the place and good luck to them.

The weather. Oh, the weather.

Some people have been saying things about the English.

Fair enough.

I'd just like to share a spot of evidence that I may very well have reassimilated.

We have recently been enjoying some absolutely splendid weather, "Shirtsleeves weather". Temperatures in the high 20's centigrade (70's, almost 80's Fahrenheit), clear blue skies, calm air, simply wonderful.

Today it clouded over and tomorrow threatens a shower or two.

I heard myself say to someone at work "I'll be quite glad to get a spot of rain again".

I'm back.

The Johnson Treatment

So, I didn't get the job, the dream job, the job I really wanted.

So I made some enquiries.

It's brilliant, this next level of career, you can call people up and ask them stuff and they respect you enough (or pretend to?) to tell you stuff. I respect her enough to believe her, my unnamed source at the highest levels of the 'job I almost got'.

OK, I buggered up a deeply technical question about computers. OK, I'll work on that.

It was the other gossip that was great.

They were deeply upset that I didn't get the job because I had been the clear favourite. The source had detailed inside knowledge that there had been lengthy wranglings about ignoring some of the practical aspects of the interview (i.e that question and my ropey answer) and hiring me anyway.

A couple of the Governors (the two who had asked me the question ) were not impressed , OK, live with that.

Everyone else had been very impressed. Sheeeeet.

I need to sell myself a bit more in person. A bit less Gordon, a bit more Tony. My response? This is a very serious job, not a time for soundbites.

But I am the clunking fist of primary education!

There's an identical job going only two miles down the road, give them a call!

I'm meeting them on Monday.

I just love the networking and intriuge!

Yesterday I was so upset, then I understood, Frau Random Doubt and The Wee hen were both OK and laughing and giggling, my day will come.

Career travails in Democratic electoral defeats.

So, I went for another interview.

This job was amazing, the school was great, the teachers seemed nice, the job was big but I felt good about doing it.

And, oh, oh, oh.

I almost, nearly, nearly, almost.

But not quite.

Got the amazing, beautiful, challenging, well paid job that would have seen me not bothering the vacancies website for the next four years.

Damn!

And double damn because I could have, should have got this job.

I later found out that the difference between me and the successful candidate (nice guy, we got on well, good luck to him), the only difference was the answer to one question.

A day full of questions and it comes down to ONE question.

Sheeeeeeet.

If my last interview was a  Nixon McGovern this one was definately a Bush Gore.

Hey, I just want to reassure you, I will not be growing a beard.

(Or in English, The last interview was John Major in 1997, this one was Neil Kinnock in 1992)

In any language, this one hurt.

MAY!

Just crazy busy and my watch has gone French on me, instead of reading TUES 6 it reads MAR 6.

Will try and blog more after Thursday when the stars tell me that things should change, or at least get less hectic, which will in itself be a change I s'pose.

Crumbs!

I just returned from the Hometown beer festival and googled 'Boris Johnson' and got this.

What?

This has to mean the complete collapse of centre left politics in Britain.

I have the same relationship with Boris as I have with the Church of England. My heart says
"of course!" my head says "don't drunk blog because you talk shit, so sure as hell don't ever drunk vote".

C-C-Call the C-C-Cops!!!!

Hometown may sound like a picturesque haven of tranquility in the eastern shires, but I should tell you, it has it's crazy sketchy wild moments.

Take yesterday.

I was home in the afternoon as I'd had a meeting in the Bigcity in the morning and it's a long , long way back to school. My head had kindly agreed that it would just be easier if I did some paperwork at home.

So I park the car and I'm walking down our street in the middle of the day. There's a bloke looking at houses and he's looking shifty. Then he goes around the side of Big Dave's house and climbs into his garden!

My overtired midday brain sorts this one out in a heartbeat. 'He's a blagger and he's casing some gaff and he's going to nick some swag and get it to his fence and sell it to the kids and someone will get hurt and all because I never called the filth!'

So, er, that's what I did. I went indoors , peered through an upstairs window and called the cops! Not even the non-emergency community number but the real deal, 999 GETHERENOW!!!!! number.

And they came.

And in the 5 minutes that it took for them to screech into our street (although I felt they screeched appropriately, not too fast but with due haste and some caution) the blagger reemerged from behind Big Dave's house, went to his car, wrote a note, popped it through Big Dave's front letterbox. Then the evil slag of crime got into his car and drove away with all due respect for the Highway code.

Yes, that's right. Raffles had left a note in Big Dave's letterbox. The bastard! Leaving a cheeky fucking calling card! It probably said something like...
..."You've been turned over by the evil bastard of crime, light fingered Tony! I hope you'll never sleep easy in your violated home again! Suckers! catch me if you can!!!"

Or...

..."Alright Big Dave, I popped round at lunchtime but you were out. I just hope no overimaginative, paranoid, police state, nosey parker fucking neighbour with nothing else to do calls the cops just because I'm a bit scruffy. Love Tony".

Gulp.

So then the cops arrived. They were fascinated by the whole scene and quickly made the neighbourhood safe again (Thank God!). The best bit was when they screeched up. My slightly bonkers neighbour who yells alot came rushing out of her house and yelled at the cops "WHAT IS IT? I DINDOIT!" To which the policemen responded with a smile and a laugh "It's alright Lou, we're not here for you. Not this time! Ha!"
Then the three of them all stood about and had a bit of a chat and a laugh at me.

So the cops asked a few questions and cleared off.

And I had that sinking feeling that some poor sod in a black VW was now getting pulled over and given the third degree for the crime of popping round to see his old mate Big dave in the middle of the day.

Later on I took the trouble to pop round to Big Dave's house and tell them what had happened.

You know the rest.

It had been a friend.

He was a bit scruffy.

He was not the evil slag of crimeland.

I apologised but Big Dave and his wife were really pleased that "people in this great street look out for each other. It makes me proud to live here." They are possibly the nicest people in the world right now.

I'm not allowed to use the phone without asking Frau Random Doubt.

Our street and the future of humankind.

Our street taken early morning during a recent bizarre spring blizzard.

I love our street. So does my wife. For that matter, so does the wee Hen, in so much that he can't actually talk yet but does enjoy exploring it with his mommy or daddy or auntie or uncle who love around the corner.

There are a number of very good reasons to love our street. Let me list the ways.

Firstly, it's about a five minute walk to the centre of Hometown. the centre of Hometown contains a bakers, chipshops, pubs, a Woolies, some banks, quite a few historic buildings, an ancient abbey and lots of proper Norfolk folk who do stuff like wait for buses and stand about gossiping. You always bump into someone you know and it's often a hive of activity and conversation.

Secondly, and this is absolutely crucial, Our street is a dead end. That means we have no through traffic. No hustle and grind of quickly moving internal combustion engines.

Thirdly, there's a bunch of kids aged between six and nine who take complete advantage of the dead end/lack of through traffic situation and spend every possible moment outside in the street whizzing about on bikes, skateboards, scooters and generally running about, messing about, playing games, having arguments, making up, kicking balls about , singing stupid songs and living the kind of life many kids can only dream of. They also whizz about at the back of our house (connected to our street by some passages and an alleyway) and create a wonderful atmosphere of kid related mayhem.Then their mums call them in for their tea and they all go running home, sometimes leaving bikes and toys in the middle of the street only to reappear to collect them before they are allowed to eat.

Fourthly, the people are nice, some are a bit mental, one can only communicate with her son by yelling at him, one dresses as a mediaeval foot soldier in reenactments of the Wars of the Roses (he has a real longbow!) but on the whole they are an agreeable bunch and we have even got a bit drunk with some of them at Christmas time.

So that's it. I just wanted you to know that our little house is a happy place, in no small part because of the groovy little street it's on where the kids run about making noise and the neighbours are OK.

Snuffle....

How's this for a bit of Trade Union zeitgeist?
I wonder how many people about to go on strike then get a raging cold which pins them down to their sofa and laptop and prevents them from storming the Winter Palace?

That's right. Full on Manmonia.

The day before the strike.

(although to be honest we had negotiated a 'no supply teachers-no picket line so there would have been no actual presence at the school gate anyway, Any school with a picket line out front must have had a near fatal communication breakdown between Head and the teachers, but hey, that's not the point!)

Book learning #41

Never Again. Britain 1945-51 by Peter Hennessy.

Ah, the gentle aroma of Clement Atlee's pipe permeates every page of this engaging history of the immediate postwar period.
The account of Britain's struggle for survival , economic, diplomatic and imperial makes you realise how close the country came to collapse during those years and puts a perspective on the Labour landslide election of 1945 (such a victory but such a massive job to do!)
It's jammed with details and anecdotes about the problems and solutions of the period and it should be pointed out that the Sterling crisis left me cold (despite placing the current credit crunch in perspective- there were no homes to mortgage in 1945, thanks to the Luftwaffe!)
I loved the stuff about India, it would have bankrupted Britain to keep it on and the job was to persuade the still Imperial minded public that India should gain independence without letting it slip the real reasons why. Indeed, the book is full of the arguments, economic and political about the deeds of the Atlee government.
The attempts to join a fledgling European Economic grouping which was stymied by the French and Germans who didn't want the Brits involved, spoiling their ideas.
The situation over the first West Indian immigrants aboard the SS Empire Windrush "Don't worry, they'll never last the English winter" said one Cabinet minister!
The first scirmishes of a new Cold War, negotiations with America over the reconstruction of Europe. You get the impression alot of the freeflowing goodwill of WW2 was due to the bonhomie of the Roosevelt-Churchill friendship, there's a great bit when Truman gets his hands on the chequebook and the money dries up almost on the spot causing the British to hastily renegotiate a series of loans at decidely unlendleasy rates!
And of course, the National Health Service.
Nye Bevan's proudest achievement, the jewel in the crown and still standing today. The marvel is that amidst the finacial carnage of the late 1940s that it happened at all! Oh I could go on, really I could. The Beveridge report, George Orwell, The BBC, improved schools for all. Just thinking about what the Atlee government did in those years makes my brain ache and my heart grateful.
There was also a very good analysis of the 1950 election and the strategies employed by the parties in the pre television age.

Oh, the things you find when tidying up the classroom. Part Two in a series of two.

Theo has opted for the old favourite, putting the 'F' into 'art'. A classic move I'm sure you'll agree.

Oh, the things you find when tidying up the classroom.

I'm pretty sure I know who wrote this.
I don't know who it was sent to.
It made me laugh after a very busy day.

T'Cup

What would you say if you discovered that your Dad had convinced his son in law to open up the home of a friend who happened to be away so that said Dad could watch the FA Cup semi final on the massive widescreen telly?

Road rage

I almost ran the same teenager over twice.

TWICE I tell you!

The second time I politely pointed out to him that in future he might wish to look where he's going.

His reply as he whizzed off on his BMX?

"Farkorfffff!!!"

Pretty much exactly as I would have done in 1988.

High tea

While I'm on the subject of truly great reasons for Norfolk in the spring, here's an aerial picture of a stupendous afternoon tea that was recently served up to us by our dearest chums, the chesnuts of the shire.

We will shortly be hosting them and serving homemade burgers a'la 'Bonnies' of Fifth Avenue.

This one's for Weasel

Sunset at Hempstead, near Holt.


Early morning at Sheringham.


Brilliant gloom at Hempstead.

Some shots of a few days in gorgeous North Norfolk (only 45 minutes flying time from Amsterdam)

My Birthday

I'm now officially the same age as Listmaker.

Politically unreliable

Hey, each to their own, but when a coworker publicly praises Oswald Mosely and Enoch Powell.

I should be concerned shouldn't I?

J ' Gagne!

I won the Teacher's section of the school Easter bonnet competition!!!!!!!!

I have no pictures of my splendid creation but imagine if you will, a Napoleonic style hat covered in brightly painted cardboard bunny rabbits (I've had a thing about bunnies since reading Watership Down)

The children had to vote by a show of hands in front of loads of parents and all the other teachers.

A public vote.

And I won!

It was like being a Communist Dictator and I loved it!

Yeah!

In the children's section the kid in my class who treats school as an optional debating club won. He's a practising Pagan, intensely competitive about religion and was delighted to win "the Christian Easter thing" adding "I'm only here today because I know there's chocolate somewhere". In another category two other Pagan kids won! It's a church school but, like, whatever!

Oh did I tell you?

I won!

And I had an acceptance speech in my pocket.

Crap job interview

I should have known when Mr Golden Wonderful Amazing Fantastic Superb Marvellous walked in the door.

I also think I got on the interviewer's nerves.

In case you were wondering, no I didn't get the job. Stupid job.



That's me on the right.

Art lesson

Gues which kid hates Mr Mondale.

Internet crack

AM ADDICTED TO FACEBOOK.

How to distract teacher

Comments overheard after the class noticed what was going on just outside the classroom door.

"Are they?"

"Jordan's cat is going to have kittens"

"Get a room!"

"Cat's don't get rooms, they get bushes"

"That poor lady cat"

"Is that legal?"

"This is even worse than the hares." This refers to the wildlife video we watched which began with frolicking hares and ended in bunny porn.




The most amusing thing was this show carried on, the two cats in question indulged in their sexual adventures outside the door, a few minutes later outside the window (the blinds of which I attempted to close but they jammed which attracted the attention of the whole class. Again). After break they were at it agin, on a picnic bench by the peace garden. Nice.

I'm alright Jack.

Five years away from the Union.
Five years spent realising how valuable they are.
Now this.

Book learning. Crisis point.

It's time for a novel.
Something light and funny.
Let me tell you why.



I began this book last February. That's right, 2007. I got halfway through, was enjoying it, in the way that one does enjoy an examination of perspectives on mental illness and nineteenth century cultural values. Then I left it on a train (Arrgh!! The eternal romance of leaving books on trains!) So I purchased another copy which I then left at my parents house (I was still living in New York at that time). During the summer I picked it up again and was delighted to discover that I had completely lost my train of thought. It's still by my bed. I really should pass it on. But to who?




Crumbs! This one almost took off. I absolutely loved Roy Jenkins's biography of Winston Churchill and have always been interested by W.E.Gladstone. You'd think this would be easy. Right?

WRONG.

Gladstone used to disappear from London for months at a time. He led an astonishingly slow paced life and he wrote excrutiating letters to people who I care little about. I tried to see the bigger picture and was desperate to get to the juicy bits about Ireland and Disraeli. But not desperate enough to wade through page after worthy page about economic conditions in 1859 or his unease about the different strains of nonconformist thinking at Oxford University. A good read for some, but alas, not for me.




I still love Lyndon. I can't understand why anyone wouldn't. But this book was just too heavy.

No, I mean it weighs a great deal. I am not able to read this at night, in bed, as it hurts me.
I was given the hardcover edition as a birthday gift a few years ago. A couple of years later, Listmaker gave me a paperback edition.

I really, really wish I had kept that paperback edition.

One of the big things I miss about New York is the ammount of reading that takes place on public transport. Listmaker always used to say that he got some of his best reading done on the subway. Damn right. Until I fix my ridiculous commute I'm not able to read half as much as I used to. I would have almost certainly got on with any of these great books had I been able to hop on the Q to Union Square a couple of times a week.

It's not all doom and gloom. I've just stolen something interesting from the shelf at my parents house. It's quite thin and looks like it could be fun. We shall see.

Showers

We are into day 342 of not having a shower. I'm certain that all truly dull bloggers have blogged about their bathrooms at some point or another, and truth be told I don't mind the 'two litre jug of water method' but a working shower and a tiled bathroom would be realy freakin nice right now.

We have a shower, it's been fitted but the plumber (that's another story) had to leave it unplumbed because the boiler people had not connected something to something else.

My poor wife has to deal with all these people and make all these calls while I work all day, a very long way away.

It's almost March isn't it? They put an extra day in this year just to put summer one day further away.

But we still have no shower.

EARTHQUAKE!!

Gosh.
That's what woke us up at 1am.
For real!

The Honorable order of the Market Cross

I've just been awarded the Market Cross!
This is the highest award that Norfolk can bestow upon one of it's citizens. In the 15 years since the order was created only four have ever been awarded. Rather like the US Presidency it's always gone to white guys of non jewish ancestry but hey, we're working on that. I got the award for my part in furthering the cause of all things Norfolk in the USA but especially because I met theEngland team in New Jersey in May 2005. A fellow winner on friday night was current Norfolk President Mr Wood who managed to organize a kickabout for all his friends at Carrow Road in 2006.

I am massively proud of this recognition and I dedicate the award to all Norfolk Americans, You know who you are and you deserve it.

Gert lush cup run!!

The Gas are in the bloody Sixth round!!!!!

Bollards update!

You may remember this post from a few months ago.

I thought you might like an update.

Someone has stolen a bollard!

Oh joy unrestrained!

I'm guessing that it's one of the local youngsters who take such delight in obscure and sometimes amusing acts of vandalism.

let not a word be said about the antics of today's youth!

Cemetery Lane

The cemetery in this old town is quite beautiful. When walking through it it's easy to lose all sense of it being tucked between a railway, a highway and some factories.

Middleton street, 10am.

Out for a stroll when I chanced upon this timeless scene.
Two old fellas stopping for a mardle.

Radiators

The trouble with talking about our new central heating system is that people misunderstand me. They think it's a replacement for the 'old' central heating system.
No, It's a new one which replaces the aged gas wall units we had, until today, heated our home with.

To be without central heating in 2008 is a bit like being without a telly or a phone.

People are shocked and bewildered.

We are warm and happy.

Obama '08

It's all been said before, If you want realtime insight you would be advised elsewhere.
This is from the gut.

I had wanted to write something before Super Tuesday, to place my bet ahead of the race. It's not been easy following this amazing race from this distant place, to be honest I've more intimate knowledge of David Cameron's composting habits and Gordon Brown's snarl. Such is the way of the transcontinental political junkie.

It is interesting to note that unlike any other US race in my memory (back to 1984 when school chum Matt Solomon asked me if I thought Walter Mondale would win, he thought yes, I thought no) this one has impacted UK popular culture at such a reasonably early stage. Not just the highbrow late night BBC radio politics shows but real, early morning popular stuff. Ordinary people texting the DJs with jokes and questions. It is perhaps more of an event than we realise. real zietgiest.

So why Obama?
It's less about policy than persona, less track record than possibility.
I strive hard to not be a cynic, I aim constantly to rise above the beast in the field in almost everything I do.

But it's hard.

And politics is hard and dirty and mean.
I'm not looking for the shining knight and I'm pretty sure he's not out there.
I just want someone to do the job and do it well.
But there is something about the momentum, the way the race has been regained and turned into a nailbiting competition. After months of assuming that Hilary was the shoo-in Obama came back and took a bite.

I like that.

As it is for the sports fan, for the political junkie it's all about the sport, the excitement.
Will he lead without division? I doubt it.
Will he make no mistakes? No.
But does he represent the opportunity for the optimist?

Yes.

Does he offer something for the hopeless romantic political junkie?

Yes.

Is he the most interesting thing to happen to politics, any politics, for ages?

Yes.

There will be a time for close analysis, scrutiny and criticism, but not quite yet, let's enjoy the race while it lasts.

Shed.

Everybody needs a good shed. Perhaps you just don't know it yet.


Old shed. Small, full of snails and spiders , a tumble dryer, freezer and lots of tools and 'stuff'.


Mondale and Silverfox dismantling old shed.



Old shed on it's side. "it's the only way to get the roof orf" said Silverfox. As it's about to become his shed I go with his advice.



The entire procedure was watched intently by the wee hen whilst he nibbled some chickpeas and tangerines.


The ugly underbelly of shedlife, years and years of garden detritus and crap.


The roof is gently prised from the four walls using a subtle combination of crowbar and subtlety.



The Silverfox gathers his tools, He's the proud new owner of a rather old shed. "There's nothing wrong with it, perfect for the allotment".


A few days later the new shed arrives! Double the size, brand spanking new and soon to be full of Tumble dryer, freezer, bikes and 'stuff'.

It's almost February already?!

Goodness gracious me! Where has the year gone?
'The Gas' have reached the fifth round of the cup!


We will be getting a whole new central heating system! Next week! Farewell old fashioned gas heaters!


I successfully (and discreetly) managed to confront odd next door neighbour about the ammount of dogshit in his backyard. At the moment we have a 4 foot fence (a new, 6 foot fence will soon be installed).
He was very nice and promised to clean it up and 'keep on it'.


A curious turn of events. A few years ago I bought a gorgeous steed, a TREK 4500. This piece of wheels was my delight until I moved to the US when I sold it to my dad. He rode it twice, didn't like it and passed it onto my brother in law. This weekend my lady comes back home! I'll get her serviced at the local bike shop and miles of cycling joy will soon be mine!

Field trip.

I will find time to update you all on the amazing school trip.

How I took 33 kids to the edge of the world and back.
How we spent our days in freezing sunshine with force 8 winds a mere formality.
How we survived on chocolate and strong tea , not to mention lots of baked beans and potato wedges.
How we team built and overcame fear through bizarre feats involving mud, rain , heights and darkness.
How noone ended up in hospital and all returned with smiles on their faces and hugs from their mums.

I need a shave, I need a beer, I need some sleep.

Ouch.

We have invited my parents round for tea tonight. We've done this because they are kind, they are generous and they live nearby. Mum is babysitting tonight and, well, occaisonally we have to suck it up and actually talk to them.

I was preparing a speciality of mine (and Delia's) the shepherds pie with leek and cheese topping.
Whilst chopping two medium onions I began to sense a slightly odd feeling in my tear ducts, this grew rapidly to become a really, really intense sensation of "OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCKISHAPPENINGMYEYES!!!!!MYEYES!!!!"

I'd got a bit of onion wedged between my spectacles and my eye.

Operation Residential Field trip

Don't be fooled by the picture. It was taken in June.

On Sunday I take 30 odd kids to an activity centre on a beach/cliff thingy.

FOR A WEEK.

IN JANUARY.

I've done this before. For three days in June.

Plough Monday

Today is Plough Monday.

Today I escorted 28 children to a freezing, windswept country lane to watch other children and some adults dance jigs. The police had closed off the road specially.

Then we followed the brightly dressed dancers (and a plough) into the local church where there was more dancing, some hurdy gurdy music, a re-enactment of a murder and a hanging, some prayers and a blessing of the plough (the plough came into the church as well). The Vicar was a newcomer to the village and to make things more interesting he was from the industrial north. He was very much bemused by this service full of dancing children, hurdy gurdy music, Molly dancers and a plough.

Then I was interviewed on local radio.

My life could not be more different than what it was a year ago.