Graduation Day

This is a picture of me graduating from Sheffield last Friday. We had a really good day and at the end of it I was awarded an MA in Imperialism and Culture. As the course was distance learning I didn't know anyone so I was nice and anonymous. It was very different from the last time I graduated way back in '96. There was not the same sense of climax/ anti climax. Instead it just felt like closure on a very challenging but essentially worthwhile period in my life. I especially liked flouncing around in the cap and gown pretending to be Batman. Although I suppose it should be Darth Vader , afterall "I'm the master now".

Borat made a surprise appearance

Brendan's Birthday

On Saturday we headed south to help Bren celebrate his birthday and a great time we had too. The thing with Bren is that he doesn’t really change. The site and situation may alter, even the waistline, but he is still essentially the same now as he was when we first started knocking about back in 1991. A bloke from one of Barnsley’s less auspicious areas (of which there are many) with a wicked sense of fun and a huge appetite for life in general. Its still strikes me as strange then, that he seems to have found himself a perfect niche within the confines of the public education system. While class guardians may gasp and educationalists frown, if Saturday night was anything to go by, public schools are the ideal place to be.

After one or two drinks in the house we met up with a number of his colleagues and took a ride down to the local canal. Initially the clipped tones and boundless enthusiasm of these private educators felt quite intimidating; they all knew each other, they had shared interests and they were out for a good time. In addition they were all in fancy dress (we hadn’t been informed). Due to the miraculous properties of alcohol however, it took only a few more drinks to steady the nerves and open up the first flowering of social interaction; hands across the class divide. In hindsight all this us and them nonsense seems ridiculously unnecessary as everyone we came across was really nice, open and welcoming. (It is possible that this is a ploy by the bourgeoisie to keep the lower classes down – by killing them with kindness – but I’m inclined to think it was genuine). We had a wine fuelled trip on a canal boat followed by loads of food in a pub. The locals were nice and the drinks kept on coming. Gill and I even met an Irishman with a bar in New York that he invited us to visit when we are in the States. The return boat journey built up into a variety show of dreadful jokes, songs and turns. When we reached the other end we were welcomed until after hours into a local pub sympathetic to our needs.

Chucking out time at the pub, one would assume, might be a sensible time to go home but instead this was when our public school system really came into its own. You see the staff have access to a very plush set of rooms that act as a recreation area complete with its own bar. I have to admit that the evening’s drinking was already taking its toll on me but I do remember that it was here that some of the wilder Bacchalian antics took place. We were invited to engage in timed races around the building as well as trying our luck at indoor rugby scrums lubricated as always by a seemingly endless supply of beer. I have to admit these people certainly know how to enjoy themselves on top of which parents are paying thousands of pounds for the privilege of having them teach their children. (Fortunately we were spared the ordeal of smacking bare arses with a canoe paddle on this occasion.)

Which brings us back to private education. Love it or loathe it in abstraction, in reality it is a different kettle of fish. I actually spent a short amount of time on teacher training at a private school and I loved it. It was the smaller classes as much as anything. For every story of the top university places going to pupils at these schools there are the less told tales of students who, after eating up over £50,000 in fees, leave school with one GCSE (often in Business Studies). It doesn’t really matter what system you’re educated in, work in or live in, there are idiots and kings everywhere. I think we should take a leaf out of Brendan’s book; be yourself and if that is a good place to be, don’t change – let the world fit in around you.

Resignation

Handing in my notice.

We’ve been dreaming of a trip like this ever since we first met but it is only this year that circumstances have conspired to make it possible. From January to July 2007 we plan to circumnavigate the globe in order to see and experience many of the places we have always wanted to visit.

It’s all well and good planning these things but quite another putting them into practice. This is especially true for a confirmed pessimist like myself. Where others will complain that the glass is half empty I will add that the liquid therein probably tastes of dishwater anyway. So despite all our preparations I was never 100% convinced that we would actually go through with it. I felt that maybe some last minute hitch or sudden surprise might render our plans obsolete; perhaps, in the darkest corners of my mind, I secretly wanted this to happen. I was, you understand, born in the Chinese year of the tiger although I am most definitely an animal of the paper variety. However, last week I finally bared my claws and reached the point of no return, the final piece of the jigsaw; I handed in my resignation.

In fact it came as no surprise at all to those who mattered but even so it was still a significant step to take. You would think that such an act would be like second nature to me. After all I have quite a record of resigning from various employment in various ways. At Murphy I think I simply stopped coming in and left it to my dad to sort out. At Abbey National I announced with undisguised glee that I was leaving the mortgage administration business and at Amy Johnson School my resignation came with both frustration and relief. However, in terms of time and commitment these jobs pale beside the six and a half years I have spent at my present position; which made the final act of resignation a little odd.

I typed and printed the letter, signed it in black biro and folded it into thirds with the address facing up (a skill I had been taught at Abbey). I hand wrote the headmaster’s name on the envelope and carried it to his post tray in the staffroom. On my way I had to pass briefly outside between two buildings and as the rain poured down (as it has a tendency to do in these parts) I secreted the envelope inside my jacket in case it got wet. Once inside in the dry I found it difficult to remove the envelope again. I suddenly became all paranoid; to take it out would be a sure fire admission that I was deserting the place, but to leave it hidden would suggest that I was uncertain in my actions and that I didn’t want anyone to know. Not for the first time in recent weeks I gave myself a metaphorical slap around the chops. I really do think too much sometimes and after all this little envelope held the key to our adventurous future.

I placed the envelope carefully in my employer’s tray and was slightly disappointed that there was no fanfare or dramatic incidental music as I did so. In fact as usual, the staffroom was a hive of activity and my great act of departure went completely unnoticed. I vanished back into the throng of hungry adolescents charging towards the canteen. On the surface nothing at all had changed but of course I knew everything had, and from this point on there was no stopping us. Our great adventure is just beginning and the world truly is our lobster.

Introduction

Hello and welcome to our blog.

Having decided to leave teaching for a while and go travelling round the world, Gill and I thought it might be fun to chronicle our adventures using a web log. Under the circumstances, we decided, it might be judicious to start the blog before we go for two main reasons; the first to get some practice in and secondly because it might be of interest to read about the planning and preparation that goes into having a joint mid life crisis at the tender age of thirty two. To this end we’ll try to update the blog at least once a week to keep you up to speed with how we are progressing.

We know that the blog will be read primarily by family and close friends keen to keep an eye on our progress, however, because of our jobs and the manner of our departure it is possible that less familiar acquaintances may also wish to view our escapades. With this in mind I am going to write in a style neither too formal nor too familiar in order to cater for all tastes. Although I imagine that when Gill posts a message, it will tend to be more chatty.

This is of course our first attempt at a blog so you’ll have to be patient with any glaring limitations on our part. If you find it in any way interesting, informative and/or entertaining then I think we will have succeeded in what we hoped to achieve here.

Until next time

‘be seeing you.