This is where you stick random tidbits of information about yourself.
Delphi
Friday, May 23, 2003
HI ! It's FRIDAY 23rd
This morning I started my day at the local nick having my fingerprints taken. But itās not what you think. I did it voluntarily.
Yesterday, Thursday, I was woken around 3am by the sound of hushed voices coming from outside. A manās voice was saying, "Hello, sorry for the noise but weāre locked out and everyoneās asleep. Weāre just trying to get in."
Now in the past, Iāve often had to ask the students next door to keep their voices down and usually theyāre OK about it so I thought they were just being cool letting me know they were bladdered. I turned onto my side, stuck a finger in my ear and tried to get back to sleep but I was woken again by the sound of what I took to be crunching wood.
Could it be a wooden jemmy?
This time I went into the bathroom and looked out of the window. I could make out two figures below me down in the yard and they were definitely interfering with one of our windows. I ran downstairs into the kitchen and was amazed to see a man of about twenty-three or so standing outside opening our side window. He was very calm when I asked him what was going on. "Sheās been locked out and Iām trying to help her get inside." He said. This was surreal. A perfect stranger opening our window at three in the morning and chatting to me like it was the most normal thing in the world.
I was a little irate. "Not in here you arenāt. Where does she live? Why are you trying to break into my house?" I put the kitchen light on. He exclaimed, "At last. Some light. Now I can see what Iām doing." A girlās voice said, "For fuckās sake weāre not trying to break into your house." Thatās when I saw the rubber suckers on the window pane. "What on earth are they?" "Iām a glazier. We use those to fit glass panes." He then went on to explain that the various bits of plastic that heād removed were called packing and he even gave me the makerās name and told me not to worry, he knew what he was doing! I was growing a little edgy by now and told him I was going to call the police and for him to start putting my window back together before getting off my property. I went into the next room to get a pen and some paper. It didnāt occur to me then that he could have run off while I was out of the room. He didnāt but the girl did. He started apologising, did a lot of smiling and promised to be gone any second. I asked for some ID and he gave me a name, the name of his firm and their phone number. Again he said he was a glazier from a town about twenty miles away. "So you drove all this way drunk?" "No. I drove over here about 5pm and went to a club. Thatās when I got drunk." I put the yard light on and as I expected he took this as his cue and skidaddled. To think I actually believed his story!
It wasnāt till I woke up that I realised how bizarre the whole episode was. At 830am I reported the incident to the local police. I checked outside. Around the window were dirty marks and finger prints. In my yard was a shattered plastic garden urn, one I have hated personally ever since I set eyes on it; and to my surprise, a tool box containing the rubber sucker thing. Evidence! I put it indoors.
I went home at lunchtime and dialled the number the burglar had given me. It was a Bed and Breakfast place in a tiny village about twenty miles away. The firm of glaziers had never heard of him and thatās when it struck me for real that Iād confronted a real live burglar. I'm five foot four!
When I got back to school, a police Detective was waiting to get the gist of what had happened and to make an arrangement to come and see me later for a proper signed statement. He arrived around 3.30pm and so far heād found out that all the info Iād been given by my burglar was surprisingly false; the B&B number was ex-directory although the name did belong to a glazier who lived in the same village as the B&B and there was another glazier chappie living close by. Investigations were proceeding accordingly.
Last night before we went to bed, Sandy asked me to drag the backyard bench across the gate to at least alert us should anyone enter the yard during the night.
So that's why this morning I gave the cops my dabs.
During first lesson, my mind rewound and replayed the incident over and over again. I was trying to get a handle on the full picture from all the clues and I could hardly concentrate at all during the Science lesson. Luckily my chum, Marcel Kellog is a good science student and he did all the work. I couldn't believe that guy was a gangster. He wasn't the type. But then what's the type?
By the time I skived off school at lunchtime, the cops had been in touch again and told me they had found the burglar and would contact me in the afternoon to give me the lowdown.
The policeman phoned around four and told me he had interviewed the baddy who seemed genuinely sorry and felt like a real idiot and a sucker. It seems he picked up the girl at a local club and sheād invited him back for a chat (?!) but she was a bit confused.
You can imagine it canāt you? "Can I take you home" "Oh, OK. Buy me another alcopop while I try and remember where I live."
Mr. Policeman said my discription was spot on and from it he could have picked the guy out in a crowd. I do love a little flattery. The chap has offered to replace the urn (hooray!) and to put right any damage to the window. Iām waiting for him to call because he can pay for Sandy and me going out for dinner tonight.
So allās well that ends well. Iāll keep you informed of what happens next.
So remember, when you damage someone elseās property, itās not the cost of what you damage but the damage you do to your personal integrity that can break you. (Contact me if you need a sickbag.)
Silly boy: The supply teacher had no eyes. I called her ĪThe mushroom ladyā and the new music teacher says he gets his clothes from Dorothy Perkins and he drives a beach buggy.
I love the madness and I swear it happened just like this...
Thursday, May 15, 2003
Hi THURSDAY 15.05 Itās been exam week. Iāve been invigilating. My first one today was IT (One hour).
8.30am. In the corridor outside the exam room the noise is swelling. Some Year Elevens are bullying their mates into signing their Year Book (america, thatās another thing you have to answer for) but the Īinā thing for the Īcoolā set is to wear a tight white t-shirt and get it signed in sexy places. I put a big sign up outside the exam room that reads,
ĪEXAMINATION IN PROGRESS ö PLEASE BE QUIETā
Standing next to it is the Head of Year mindlessly calling out to a girl down at the other end of the corridor, "AUDREY, ARE YOU GOING TO THE PROM?" I give her one of my looks.
10am. Second exam is English (2 hours). Itās to be held in room 5 but the teacher explains that she has had enough moving about without notice so would we mind going into room 7? Just after start of the exam, two scallys wander in through the door to take a short cut into the computer room to research some porn. I complain to Head of English so he locks them in. (?!?!) Somehow they get free when theyāre ready, and leave the door wide open. I go round and lock it. After about half an hour of comparative silence, all hell is let loose by a class of demented Year Eights who have learned how to create chaos out of nothing whilst waiting in the corridor to set fire to their teacher. I read them the riot act but they seem to have heard it all before because they just keep nodding and apologising. The teacher arrives, sees the look on my face and keeps her head down whilst shepherding her flock into its pen. Sheās prettier and a bit dizzier than other teachers. The kids love her. At the end of the lesson, the teacher comes round to apologise to the boy I,m supposed to be helping. The boy Iām supposed to be helping, grins shyly at the floor and shuffles his dandruff.
Room 49? Iām confidently informed by an 11 year-old that Room 49 is somewhere on the lower ground floor. But when I get there, I notice that none of the rooms have numbers. Using my indefatigable powers of detection, I find a door with a piece of A4 sellotaped to it that reads ĪRoom 49 Year 11 now in Room 44ā and has an arrow pointing down the corridor. So this is the right room. But itās locked. Iāll have to rush back to the staff room and find my head of line. On my way to the staff room I pass the boy Iām supposed to be reading for standing by the front door looking nervous. I tell him weāre locked out and to wait. He's a bit jumpy. I sweep into the staff room only to discover that itās empty. Back on the ground floor, again I find the boy Iām supposed to be helping and we return to the lower ground floor in search of someone with a key. I find the kitchen assistant, who asks me, ćWhat room do you want?ä ćRoom 49ä ćI donāt think weāve got a Room 49 down hereä ćWell thatās what it says on a piece of A4 sellotaped to a door along the corridor.ä ćOh, well. Weāve got one key for two rooms on the right and one on the left.ä ćBut Room 49 is on the leftä ćThat must be it thenä. ćI promise to return the key to you and not to lose it.ä ćItās the only one weāve got for all these classrooms.ä I take the key and return to Room 49 dogged by the boy Iām supposed to be helping. I try the key and it opens the lock. I put the key carefully in my pocket. In we go and weāre six minutes late for the start of the exam. After a few minutes someone is knocking at the door. Itās the Head of Food Technology and she needs to collect the TV from our classroom to show a video to her class. She apologises and leaves with the TV. A few minutes after we settle down again, thereās the rattle of many keys and in walks the Assistant Head like the sheriff entering the saloon accompanied by A Visitor. ćThis is an examä says I. They leave without a word or apology. The siren goes for end of normal lessons and a crowd of kids use the corridor outside our room to play 'Noise at Full Throttle' because itās raining in our part of Cornwall. Outside, one kid knocks on the window to wave at us. The boy Iām helping is doing well in spite of my help and only leaves one question, albeit a rather important one. But hey, is this supposed to be taken seriously? When heās finished, heās finished. So we leave. I lock the door and return the key as promised. My boyās not taking the next exam, Key Skills, so I wonāt see him until tomorrow for his 2 hour English exam, 10am until noon. My next exam today is the Geography exam at 13.15 this afternoon. Canāt wait.
The school seems to have made no provision for access to classrooms, or for peace and quiet during the so-called exams. Glad Iām not taking any.
Yesterday when I sat down in the History class, I couldnāt believe that the class were being so quiet. We sat waiting for the teacher to arrive in a sort of hippy haze. (a natural high) Suddenly he came through the door like Bush to the podium. "Good Morning. How are we doing?" Silence. He looked around the room. "Is it just me or are you being unusually quiet this morning?" Silence. He grinned nervously. "Sorry. Iāve got a sweet going on here" pointing to his cheek. Silence. He pleads with the students, his students. "Have I done anything to upset you?·.say anything. ·Anyone?" Silence. Why is it so quiet?" Nothing. "Iāll put the light on. Bit of exercise." the full grin. Silence. When the light goes on he says,"Hey!" like a magician and conversations break out like little bush fires. "Letās talk about exams. Theyāre next week." He prattles on in a friendly manner interjecting with jokes and funny voices. "The exam is really important." No reactions until the Afghan calls out to no one in particular. "My sisterās going to see Christina Aguelera." "Do you know any of the questions, Sir? Go on, tell us." "No but hereās a clue." He makes a few amusing gestures and more funny voices. Then he does a few impressions. By now he is clearly desperate to get their attention. "Youāre going to have to get familiar with Witchcraft for the exam." A very dodgy suggestion if you ask me. Pirin takes out a chocolate bar and deftly unwraps it in silence. Well practiced hand lifts it to his mouth and I hear a delicious crunch. The boy Iām supposed to be helping turns up twenty minutes late. I ask him why heās late. He explains, "Got lost". Heās almost completely silent. Unusual for him. "Say again, I wasnāt listening", itās the ever-daring Afghan. The boy I'm helping looks at me as though Iām a stranger because heās almost asleep. The teacher asks "Why is everyone so quiet?" Silence. The Afghan passes round some photos under the nose of the teacher who asks, "What were the aims of Kettās Rebellion?" Silence. The boy I'm helping lifts his head off his forearms, yawns, stretches and glances sideways at my watch. Right on cue the siren screeches Īend of lessonā and thereās an immediate mad panic to be the first told to come back in. And theyāve gone. The teacher looks at me, a little rattled. "Am I flogging a dead horse here today?"
Friday, May 09, 2003
Hi again. Friday 09.05.03. 09.10 First Lesson. Science. Year 10
"Why do you keep scratching your head?" "I donāt know. It canāt be nits. My dad checks me every morning for nits. Weāve got a special comb."
"My brotherās got a motor bike tank in my living room. Itās been there for so long, motherās started dusting it."
"Howās your back sir?" Nice·.
"Please donāt write on these old question papers. Use your work books or a piece of paper." "Sir!··Sir!··Sir!" "Please donāt write on them." "Sir!··Sir!··Sir!" "Donāt write on the old exam papers." "Sir!·Sir! SIR!" "No need to shout. What do you want?" "Sir, got an exam time-table?" "The answer is no." "Sir? Got any exam time-tables?" "NO!"
The Mouth is rummaging through the teacherās personal pencil case then goes through his desk drawers. He tells thatās a private area. "But what am I going to write with?" She has a rummage evry week but he doesnāt notice.
The Fishermanās son is chatting up the 15 year-old beautician with the twenty-seven year-old boy friend. His hand rests welcomed on her thigh.
One boyās head is almost entirely covered in black wavy hair. I can just make out his nose where it pokes through the hirsute curtain. Below that is what I take for his chin. He puts his tea cosy on and is immediately told to remove it. He successfully ignores this instruction.
The classroom noise level is reminiscent of that in the theatre just before curtain up.
"What sheet are we on", the Fishermanās son. Heās silver tongued today. Heās hoping to trap the beautician. "Youād drop Īem for me wouldnāt you?" he asks like a doctor, low toned, confidential.
The Presenter asks a question then as the teacher turns to deliver his reply, she opens her mouth so wide and yawns so sweetly that I feel we are all invited to inspect the quality of her fillings.
Roughly a third of students played truant yesterday in order to go Drilly Day. You can tell which ones ö they have bright red sunburn.
Pretty Girl calls me "agro midget" in response to me calling her a slut in front of her friends. She feels all grown up now and gives me a really beautiful smile.
Two girls arrive 40 minutes late without a word to the teacher and snacking, wander over to their seats with all the sense of purpose of hung-over, early morning shoppers.
The teacher announces that pregnant mothers who take any drugs directly effect their unborn babies. Right on cue all the girls stop talking.
The siren wails for end of lesson.
The Fishermanās son gives the beautician a hug "See you after break". She flutters luminous azure blue.
I swear this is all true, just the nameās have been changed to protect the little innocents.
Monday, May 05, 2003
DRILLY DAY monday 5th .......... HELLO Today I received a cheque for one hundred and sixty-six pounds from my insurance company for loss and damage to goods. Not a great amount but better than suffering in silence. What a day! Drilly day took me to tears and back. My back still is stiff but it's getting batter. We had fish and chips for tea and it is so expensive, we probably won't be having it again until next Drilly Day. Now that Drilly Day is over, I think I'll water my crooked Hazel. I wonder if Sandy would like a holiday if we ever sell our house? I can't stop sneezing. I think it's the emotional after effects. Perhaps some more wine and an early night is what I need. Goodnight Ibid.
Hi! Guess what? Already I have received a Rail Travel Voucher for twenty pounds as a result of filling out the complaint form at my friendly Truro Station.
Also, yesterday I received another lengthy apology and explanation with plans to carry the investigation further and just when I get the feeling that my bullshit detector gauge is flickering on overload, out of the blue this morning comes another letter from the Customer Relations Executive.
This one offers expressions of regret, further apologies, notification that copies of my correspondence had been forwarded to their Airport managers in both Gatwick and Athens and, to my surprise, the offer of one hundred and fifty pounds in compensation as a gesture of goodwill with the hope that perhaps my confidence in the Airline and travel company might be restored. So I signed the `Release and Discharge` form and now await the cheque.
Very often all the boring procedures for complaint seem so complicated and time consuming that the majority of us give up. But I think it's the moral and legal responsibility of the big comparties just as much as us, as the consumer, to honour the contract to the best of our abilities. Why should we have to suffer? The successful corporations wouldn't be successful if they were as weak as we are sometimes.
So, whenever you sense someoneās taking the piss or feel any other sting of injustice, whether they are large companies or just market stall holders, keep your head, gather all the relevant facts and details, be totally polite, then hunt out and contact the one at the top and persist.
