Entertainment

Last night, for my first time in New Zealand, I attended an amateur musical entertainment.

My beloved had mentioned last week that she had been invited to accompany some of her older friends to a meal and a show in Upper Hutt. She had agreed, and of course I had to go along.



I had to hurry home from school, leaving lots of work undone, rush to shower and change, and then get out to meet at a new Indian Restaurant. The meal was nice, but the Indian waitress's eyes widened in shock when I asked for m meal "Indian Hot", not kiwi hot.



I've noticed over the last 7 years here in NZ, that you poor colonials just cannot take a good hot curry. I've been to many restaurants where a Kiwi friend has said "be careful of this one TSB [the Scotsman, not the arena] it's pretty spicy", only to find the meal rather bland and insipid. I grew up in Glasgow as curries began to make their way into the tradition of weekend drinking. It became de rigueur for a young chap to finish off an evenings entertainment with as hot a curry as he could stand. I proudly attained the stature of "Vindaloo Survivor". I can still remember the numbness of the mouth, the sweat running down my back, the exquisite agony of the abused tongue, and of course, the semi-contained screams the next day as the corrosive waste was excreted. I almost expected a hiss of steam as it hit the water.



But, enough on the food, onto the entertainment.



The music was mostly from the 60s and 70s, and the band consisted of the musical director on the piano (wearing I believe, the worlds first macramé tuxedo, with sewn in mirrors), base and acoustic guitars and a drummer.

The cast, my God the cast.

They varied in appearance and age from mid 30s to early 70s.

They varied from very fat to anorexic.

They varied in talent from merely adequate to "I'm going to blow my brains out if I have to hear her again"

The cast varied mightily in appearance and agility, and as tthey swung? through their acts I noticed:



The clang as two of the more elderly members tapped their copper anti-rheumatism bracelets together.

The voluptuous wobbling of a not unattractive young(ish) lady as she gyrated and leaned forward so all the audience could get a really good look down her blouse.

Gratuitous image to keep Fflur ticking over

The muffed lines.

The flat and sharp off-notes.

The way many of their voices faded away into nothingness as they attempted notes outside their vocal range.

The way some of their voices screeched into a higher register many times during a song

The casual re-adjustment of a colostomy bag.

The oxygen tank sitting at the side of the room.

The fixed grins on the cast's face.



To be fair they tried hard.

To be fair the musical quality was horrendous.

To be fair, they had some comic talent. I actually enjoyed (in a mild and restrained fashion) a couple of funny scenes, where timing, script and backing music worked, and actual singing was at a minimum.



They also awarded some prizes during the intermission.



As the cast withdrew to change for the next scene (a medley from the California flower power era, of such concentrated awfulness that I wanted to not only blow my brains out, but to do it retrospectively) one of the organisers appeared on stage and told the audience to go through a variety of commands. "Raise your right arm", "Wave it slowly about" etc. Being a grouchy anti-social bastard (my beloved's words, not mine) I sat there and did not obey the commands. The lady on the stage then told the audience (after a range of similar commands) to reach under their seats (with just a hint of sexual innuendo) and bring out what they find. After about 2-3 minutes of searching, with no excited shouts from us, the poor lady suggested that we should be looking for a "smiley face". More fumbling under seats, accompanied by muttered curses as fingers encountered ancient deposits of chewing gum. Still no excited shouts of triumph. My beloved gave me a gentle nudge (well it was gentle when compared with the Christchurch Earthquake of blessed memory) and after I'd managed to start breathing again I felt under my seat. Oh Shit. I had found the bloody smiley face. Waving it non-excitedly aloft (to the accompaniment of another of my beloved's elbow jabs) I was awarded with a wrapped gift box, of a fair size (about 0.5 metre long).



We then went through a series of questions based on James Bond (the previous closing number had been a medley of Bond film themes. I'll never look at Thunderball again in the same light, after I had watched one of the younger and slightly less fat-challenged male performers hit himself repeatedly in the crotch every time the word Thunderball was uttered by his colleagues on stage, carrying as he was a plastic water pistol in a very suggestive manner) and I won 3. it became embarrassing.

Which was the first Bond Film: Dr. No

Who was the "Bond Girl" in that film: Ursula Andress

What type of RAF plane crashed in the sea in Thunderball: Avro Vulcan

What musical was based on Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet: West Side Story. (I know it wasn't anything to do with Bond, but I think the organiser was desperately trying to get someone else to win at least one bloody question, and away from this obvious Bond Geek in the second row (me).

Ha.



I've won more trivial pursuits than any other member of my family. My sister-in -law refuses to play anymore if I'm playing. My beloved just hits me if I mention the game in her hearing.

I began to whisper the answers in my beloved's ear, just to spread out the prizes. We gave most of them away to our fiend sitting beside us, but i kept 4.

A box of Lavender Scented Drawer liners

A Ball of baby-blue wool

A packet of "Happy Tea" (My beloved said she was willing to bet her entire jewellery collection that it wouldn't make me cheerful)

A bottle of "Refined essence of various vegetable oils, suitable for the removal of stretch marks and wrinkles" (I felt like donating it to the cast. Their need for anti-stretch mark and definitely anti-wrinkle oil was much, much greater than mine.)



At last the evening of "Musical Entertainment" drew to a close (no encore for the poor sods, we just wanted to get out, get away, and consume large amounts of mind-altering and amnesiac substances)

Home



Whisky.

More whisky

Hot shower

Last whisky

Bed.

A Mad Scottish Boy

I came across this video on YouTube. 

It's about Mumu, a Scottish Fold Cat, living in Japan

Very cute and a bit Garfieldish.

Peaceful Intermission

I cannot spend much time on today's post, as I've got a huge pile of work to do.

So just to keep my record of a post per day, and because I think this montage of time delay photographs is well worth viewing, I've embedded it below.  There is a music track, but it really doesn't add to the images.

I came across this video on Mad Mike's America, quite an eclectic, well designed web magazine.

Enjoy.


Timelapse Montage from Mike Flores on Vimeo.

Quiet Sunday

All school work done, my beloved at church, and my son (over from Wellington for the weekend) making omelets in the kitchen while I watch the ABs thump Scotland on the TV.

It's warm and mostly sunny, and I've got the lawns to mow later, and maybe go for a swim this afternoon.

I can put all the school problems away to the back of my mind and just switch off.

I got an email from Whitcoulls in reply to my complaint about their marketing.  See Special Offer Stink and it looks like they'll make good on their implied offer.  We'll see.

Friends

Richard [of RBB] is thinking about Strings for The Gloria, Fflur is a domestic goddess, Nicola is getting back into the swing of teaching, Second comes and goes, MoE (the teacher not the ministry) is waxing all philosophical about fantasy escape, and The Curmudgeon is curiously silent.

All is well with the world.

Well it would be if Ringo would just leave me alone.
He want me to go with him on a visit to another school, to look at their approach to using "e-portfolios" and net-based research learning. 
I've already said no, no , NO and even NO.  But he wants me to think about it over the weekend.
I've thought. 
I've wrestled with all of the philosophical contradictions inherent in his paradigm.
I've researched it on the web.
I've decided.
I'm not going to say NO.
I'm going to say absolutely for the last time HELL NO

Guess

We were Hacked

It wasn't a virus.

I said on my last post that we had a computer virus in our school computers, but yesterday we found that was not the case.

I was pleasantly surprised to see our school system back up (well 80% of it anyway) yesterday morning when I got in at 7:30.  My estimate was in not really having a functional system until next week, because of the complexity of our system and because of the damage a virus can do.

By 2 pm, everything seemed to be working normally, so I went and had a chat with CH.  There had been a rumour floating around the school that a boy in Year 10 was responsible for the virus attack.  I know the boy concerned, and although he had been in a bit of trouble over misuse of the school computers, he wasn't malicious, and quite honestly I didn't think he had the knowledge.

CH now told me that although he had originally thought it was a virus, he had discovered while repairing the system, that we had been hacked.  Someone had logged onto our server remotely and changed many of the settings, causing the chaos of yesterday.  Whoever had done it had used an administrative logon and password.

I went and had a little chat with the year 10 suspect and his probable compatriot in crime, and while I discovered that he probably was involved in some way, he really hadn't done anything bad.  He wasn't the main culprit, although there was supporting evidence that he might have discovered the administrative logon and  password from a previous incident.  We sent him home (I use the word we here, as I had to get a DP to help in the interrogation questioning and sending home, as I don't have the authority to do so) to think what he had done, and to prepare a written statement for me on Monday.  I also told the boy that we had reported the incident to the Police (true) who would be investigating the incident (true) and who would be asking him questions next week (untrue) so he'd better get his story straight.

I went back to see CH to discuss the whole incident, and as he now knew it wasn't a virus, and as almost everything was back to normal, he had been investigating any changes to our system.  He then told me that he had found evidence linking one of our Year 11 pupils into the hacking attack.  This pupil is bright, very interested in computers, is in one of my computing classes and a bit devious.  He was a much stronger suspect than the original year 10 boy, and the evidence we now have is much more complete and objective than the rumours we had at the start.  I'm sure we've got him, and I've already banned him from the school network, and every member of staff has been sent an email with our suspect's name and picture, telling them not to let him near any school computer at any time.

The student involved is sitting an NZQA exam on Monday, so we'll pick him up when he finishes that.  He might even be reading this post, so here's a piece of advice to him. 

If you're going to logon to the school servers to change the security settings, don't use a school computer to do it, and don't use your real logon.  Every change is logged and we know who you are, where you logged on from, and when you did it.  Don't plan on gaining any more computer qualifications at our or any school, because you won't be touching a computer for the foreseeable future.

There's a good kiwi expression for what you now are.

Can you guess?

Here's a picture to help you.

Fantasy Intermission

Ah, we can but dream.

As the second part of this little fantasy episode, I enjoyed Richard [of RBB]s post on the unsolicited caller who was trying (I think) to convert him to Christianity, and the method Richard [of RBB] used to disuade him.

Here's another method, used on British Telecom.  You may have seen/heard it before, but I think it's great.  Especially the way the poor sod of a telesales guy keeps trying.  Pathetic yet brave but pointless.

That's Odd?

I don't like surprises, especially when the unexpected event occurs on my computer.  As I logged onto my office computer yesterday morning at my usual time of 7:10 (to get the relief set), my normal Windows desktop (a lovely picture of Mitre Peak) had been replaced by a full screen graphic of Wal-E.

Nobody should be able to change my desktop appearance, unless I had left myself logged-on.  But my computer was in a locked office.  Oh well, I'd figure it out later, then focused on getting the relief cover finalised.  Everything seemed to be OK though, the KAMAR program was working normally.

Now in the morning, my routine is based around communication.  Staff can let me know about sickness etc. via my mobile phone, my school phone (which has voicemail) or by email to me a the school. 
I checked my mobile, nothing.
I checked my voicemail on my school phone, nothing
I checked my email, nothing.  Actually it really was completely nothing, because my school email wasn't working.
"Huh" I thought, the email server's down again (it happens about once a month)

As I began to print out the relief sheets, some other staff were arriving, and I heard one of them complaining about her computer looking funny.

I went out to check, and lo and behold, Wal-E was appearing on every computer in the workroom.  More than odd.  Only our Computer Guy (Carrot Head) could do that, and I didn't think that CH was that much a fan of Wal-E. 

The only other alternative was a virus

I wet back to my own computer and checked.  No network icons were appearing on my explorer, which implied a network failure, but KAMAR was stored and ran from our networked server.
That's Odd.

We had a computer virus.  We were stuffed.

No printers, no photocopiers, no prepared work, no email to let people know what was happening.
Then the KAMAR program went down.
No rolls, no attendances, no timetables.

Pre-computer civilization

It began to dawn on the staff how dependant we had become on our technology, as we reverted to hand-written roles and lesson plans, and dug old class-sets of resources out of long-term storage.  Because we couldn't photocopy, we had to re-use old stuff.

Then of course the icing on the bloody cake, we were told that the year 10s were coming in, that the rostering-off industrial action had been cancelled by our useless union..

We got the first period sorted out the school lurched into its usual semi-chaotic state.  Then CH told me that the system would be down for at least that day, and maybe longer.

Holiday at the beach

It turned out to be a very strange day, with almost a holiday atmosphere.  Very few seniors about, about 16 year 10s, and our year 9s.  The kids knew very quickly about the computer system being down, and most of them being nice Kiwi kids, they accepted the problem, and didn't (mostly) cut up because they weren't doing their normal work (which was buried somewhere in our very sick computer system)

I'm going in now to set today's relief.  I've got all my lists on paper (I'm a computer scientist, I REALLY KNOW how computers can stuff-up, so everything I need for my relief job is also on hard copy) so I'm all set.  I hope we're back up to a minimum service today, but I'm not sure.

If I was a religious man, I'd pray.  But I'm not, so I'll trust in human ingenuity and also bring in a bloody big hammer.  Most technical problems can be solved by bigger and heavier hammers.

I used to like that silly Wal-E film.  Not any more.

The Peter Principle

No, we don't have a new boss in Nuova Lazio High called Peter.  I'm referring to the idea put forward by Lawrence J Peters in his book on management practices, which states that every employee tends to rise to their level of incompetence.

We've got Ringo.  Ergo Sum

He sent me an email yesterday, regarding the netbook project he's working on.  As I mentioned in my previous post there's nothing intrinsically wrong with the idea of using sensible computer-based learning and teaching techniques in education, but I honestly don't think we're ready, nor do we have the money.

But I'll say this for Ringo, he doesn't give up.  Apart from the lukewarm reception given to his ideas at the HOF meeting, the scheme's biggest weakness is Ringo's lack of technical knowledge.
He gets mixed up between laptops and netbooks
He casually refers to WiFi, but really means WLAN(wireless local area network)

Using a WLAN at the start

In the email he sent, he included a link to another NZ school who is running a limited WLAN, and he referred to "This sort of agreement".  Now we have two or three WLANs already in the school.  One in the staffroom, one in the workroom, and one down in our Social Studies block.  They're designed to allow teachers to use their laptops on the school network.  It works reasonably well, but the bandwidth isn't great, and the Systems Manager and I have great concerns over security.  Getting into a network requires that the computer using it is recognised by the network domain controller, and that various security protocols are established and password and network settings are correctly implemented.  WLANs are notoriously easy to hack into from outside.  So giving 30 of our little angels access to computers with the protocols set up gives us both the willies.
However, back to the email.  The link I mentioned before, took me to a page describing (quite well actually) how to set up a laptop computer on their school WLAN, no mention of a network agreement or any of the protocols we had been discussing.

Same person after using WLAN for just two weeks

Our Systems Manager (Carrot Head [CH]) and Ringo have visited a school (or two, I'm not sure) using netbooks (bought by the kids themselves, not an option in NLH), and discussed their usage with a very technical savvy Deputy Principle.  Listening to Ringo and CH  talk about their visit was enlightening.  Two very different stories.  CH described to me the problems the school was having with their netbooks (limited functionality, slow response time, saturated WLAN bandwidth, saturated external bandwidth, uncontrolled external apps and storage)  Ringo just talked about how cool it would be, how up to date it would be, how good it would make him look if it  was implemented.(no, I confess, I made that last bit up.  He never said that phrase.  I betcha he thought it though.

CH sent him a reply explaining basically that the information at the link was useless, just generic information.

But I don't think that Ringo grasps the basics.

Oh well, back to the grind.  Only 4 weeks or so left, and we've just been informed that as a measure of good faith, we're going to suspend the rolling action against our year 10s today.  Hope none of them realise that they're supposed to come to school today.

I think the PPTA is showing weakness, they should have intensified the action, not back down.  Refusal to mark NZQA exam papers would be a good start.

Days of Wine and Posers

Senior Pupils discovering the joys"of horticulture"at Nuova Lazio's largest Marijuana Plantation

Our Seniors had their prizegiving last night, and as we wish them adieu with a song in our heart, we can look back on a year filled with many delights, hard work and a hard core of little shits.

The majority of our kids want to achieve, are pleasant young adults, showing increasing maturity and good manners. I remember:
Students holding the corridor doors as you struggle past with an armload of books
Students spontaneously creating a Birthday card for me (She should have been making web pages, but bless her little cotton socks, it was just what I needed)
Students laughing at my jokes

Students laughing at their own foolish mistakes
Students laughing at my lack of hair. (I'm not sensitive about it, and it gives me the opportunity to laugh at their (often) bloody stupid hairstyles)
Students discovering a method in advanced programming to complete a task which was more efficient than my example method
Students developing a working semi-professional database, utilising techniques they had discovered themselves.
Students who take up part-time work to support their single parents and siblings, yet never spend money on themselves, and study and work really hard to make successes of themselves.
Students showing me a new shortcut, a hidden area I didn't know was there, a beautifully designed poster.
Colleagues who volunteered their time to cover someone else's classes, when the teacher was unexpectedly taken ill.
Colleagues who sent in work for their students when they were really ill
Colleagues who came in at the weekend/evening to help their students pass a major piece of work/assessment.

I also unfortunately remember the little incidents which make teaching an increadibly difficult job.

The student who threatened a female colleague with a firework because she hadn't won a prize.
The three idiots who decided to play football on our flat roof while lessons were on in the class rooms underneath.
The morons who turned up completely pissed out of their heads at a junior school disco. (And who threw stones at staff)
The unbelievably disgusting buggers who left bottles of urine and crap-filled pants in Richard [of RBB]'s music room.
The usual 5 - 10 kids who resolutely refuse to go to classes and roam the corridors, disrupting every class they pass by shouting obscenities and banging on the doors.  But who also refuse to leave school because they know that home is worse.
The very difficult student who swore at me because I was trying to make her do some work.  The same student who broke down and cried when she saw that we were really worried for her health and about her succeeding.
The countless kids who turn up to class stoned out of their tiny little skulls.
The countless parents who give their kids weed and booze without control.

Enjoy the beautiful late spring, look forward to a beautiful summer to come, look forward to the end of the bloody term.

Look forward to going back to visit bloody Scotland in the middle of the bloody winter, which was one of the main reasons for leaving the bloody place 7 years ago.

The Idea of WInter

The reality of winter

Out of Touch

My email's not working.

Did you hear me?
I SAID MY EMAIL'S NOT WORKING

This is serious.  The first I knew of it was last night about 7 when I started my email program and clicked on Send/Receive.
Instead of the usual dialogue box showing the completion of download, I got a little box asking me for my password.  It's been a year since I set up the system, and it's been automatic logon ever since.  I wasn't completely sure what my password was.  I tried my usual 5 or 6 to no effect.

Eventually, I phoned Telsta, my providers through Clear.net.  The reassuring automatic phone message said that I would have a wait of 17 minutes, then it said they're all busy, then it cut off.

Oh Oh.

Went to the Telstra web site and eventually (Why do they make it so difficult to navigate through their flashy web site to find the Network Problems page.) discovered that all emails using Telstra were down.
The technical bit at the end said "Telstra had lost contact with their servers"

Lost Contact?

What the hell did that mean.

Had they forgotten where they kept them?
Had the servers had enough and run away?

Maybe Telsra hadn't bothered writing to them often enough to keep them happy.

If the servers were female, we're really in the shit.

The star-level guesthouse deaf-mute special female server
(I kid you not.  From a 5 star  hotel in Shanghai)

With blokes, you don't have to keep in constant communication.  Blokes just don't have 3 hour phone calls discussing everything on Earth.  Like Aunty Doreen and what she did with that conniving bastard of a second husband, or the best lipstick available at the sales, or what everyone wore at cousin Ethyl's wedding in 1992 or (shudder) the latest gynecological problems.  I normally don't mind too much, I just carry on reading my book, or watching TV, or having a gentle doze on the couch.  But when they start discussing their plumbing, I'm off.  I don't care where.  Garage maybe, and saw a bit of wood, or bang in a nail.  Maybe the garden, lawns could always do with another mow.  Maybe even take the dog for a walk.

When blokes phone other blokes, the conversation is probably over inside 5 minutes max.  Unless it's something important, like coaching a computer novice in setting up their emails or anti-virus program or similar.(There is one major exception to this rule.  When a bloke is phoning a new girlfriend, especially one with whom he thinks he has a major chance of a score, then we can talk the hind leg of a donkey.  Isn't sex, or even the glimmer of hope of sex a great motivator?)

However, getting back to the main point, blokes don't need to constantly keep in touch.  There are some friends back in Scotland who I haven't seen in years, but I know if I phone and say I'll be over next month, and do they fancy a pint, everything'll be right.

Not so with the ladies.

For some strange reason they get a bit miffed if you don't phone or drop a card.  I can remember one girlfriend (long time ex-girlfriend just in case my beloved reads this) who wouldn't talk to me just because I hadn't phoned her for TWO WEEKS.  I'm sure I'd told her that I was off to Germany on a wee exercise with the Army, but she just hung up when I phoned after I got back to Scotland.  I even had to send a mate around to get my clothes.

So I sincerely hope that Telstra's email servers are blokes, probably with names like Morpheus, or Fred or even Bruce (Aussie jokes are still popular), because it'll be relatively easy to get in contact with them again.. Just suggest the Parrot and Firkin at 8 o'clock and she'll be right.

If however their names are Maureen or Gwendolyne or even Euphemia, then we're stuffed.  It'll take long extended negotiations to restore their hurt feelings, probably will involve flowers (lots of long-stemmed roses), perfume, lots of choccies and worst of all, long talks on the phone about "The Relationship"

I don't care how they do it, but I want my email back.  I need my email back.  Thank goodness Telstra's Internet Servers are still OK (probably called Dan and Ted), not being able to blog would be the final straw.

I've just remembered one major exception to the "Blokes don't talk for long on the phone" rule.  There was another time I was on exercise near Dortmund, and I had 36 hours off.  I phoned my then girlfriend (a different one) to find that she was on heat.  This resulted in the longest, steamiest phone call of my life, when she described what she would like to do (and be done to) when I got back into the UK.  I will spare you the sordid details, but I needed a very long cold shower before I was again acceptable by polite society.

Cold Showers
The Stoic's method of Birth Control

I want my email back

Virtual Me

Today all of the HOFs (Head of Faculty) have a cosy little get together and discuss items of importance to our faculties and our school. We normally discuss things like exam arrangements, changes in NZQA rules and regulations, ERO vists etc.  Anything which can impact on our students learning and our teaching can be on the agenda.
This meeting will mostly be about our class structures for next year; who's teaching what, in which room.
But there is an extra item on today's agenda.  Ringo is going to talk to us on Virtual Learning.

Some schools in our region are trying out the use of netbook computers for their students, where they are used to generate electronic portfolios of the student's work, allow access to research tools on the WWW and to participate in an electronic forum, to exchange ideas and concepts, ask questions and hopefully, get answers.

It sounds like a good idea, and there is nothing intrinsically wrong with it, but I'm going to oppose it.

Not because the idea is from RIngo, we're both (I hope) too professional to allow personal differences to intrude.  No, it's because I think it's a waste of money.

To set this up, just for one class we would have to buy 30 Netbooks at about $500 each, install a high bandwidth wireless network and develop some sort of security scheme so our little angels won't be tempted to nick the netbooks.  The whole thing would cost about $20,000 to set up and maintain for the first year.

We have no money in our budget for this.  We, like most NZ schools are so strapped for cash that we;
charge the pupils for their printing
charge the pupils for their work books
charge them for their ID cards
sell compulsory uniforms at a profit

We've just spent on new servers, switches and network infrastructure to the sum of $140,000
We're just about to place an order for 90 new desktop computers to keep our system up to date (about $850 each)
We're going to upgrade to Windows 7 and Office 2010
We've got a higher ratio of computers to students than most schools in the region, because we want our kids to get the best education we can possibly afford, and many of the newer courses (Tourism, CAD) are designed to be delivered via computer.  We really need another classroom of full desktop computers to allow our Integrated Learning classes from Year 9 to fully develop their ideas, and spending money on these limited use Netbooks seems wasteful to me.

Netbooks are great if all you want to do is access the Internet/WWW.  It has been argued that they could use things like Google Docs, or other web based tools, and they can.
But.
All of these web based applications originate on US servers, and the communications pipeline out of NZ and Australia is relatively narrow, and quite slow.  Our pipe out of Nuova Lazio is also narrow, and we don't get good bandwidth, so using web based applications isn't on for the next few years.

The rationale given by Ringo seemed to be that using these systems would allow our pupils to become familiar with social networking software and usage, and the forums would allow them to freely exchange ideas, and the e-portfolios would allow them to maintain a historical sequence of work and ideas.

Apart from the cost, why?
Our kids don't really need to be familiarised with social networking or forums.  When I'm teaching our Year 10s HTML tags, I was surprised this year how many (well over 75%) already knew how to use and create tags for HTML.  They use them in their facebook and other forum pages.
If they want to store historical documents, the current school network gives every pupil 500Mb of storage, which will expand to 5 Gb next year, so they can store documents to their heart's content and can recall anything they've made since they started in school.

I just think the whole idea is a waste of money and effort.  We should be focusing more on the basics, like attendance, class discipline, and even making sure our kids get fed before they come to school.



Just to keep Fflur happy, here's a picture of a blond without any clothes pole-dancing.

Enjoy

Special Offers Stink

My beloved bought me a gift card from Whitcoulls as part of my birthday presents.  Now I read voraciously, about a book every day or two, so it was a good choice for me.
She also brought back a special offer leaflet from Whitcoulls, saying one paperback at half price.

Excellent.  Nothing better for a Scot than a bargain.  So we went into Whitcoulls in Upper Hutt to get a couple of books.

Lo and behold, I spotted two books I wanted.  The new Lee Child and the new Ian M. Banks (Surface Detail).  I had especially been looking forward to the book by Banks.  They were both on some sort of special offer that Whitcoulls called "Hot Price", about $5 less than the normal price.

At the checkout I spotted a sign saying"Hot Price ticketed books were exempt from the half price offer.  "No problemo" I thought, I'd just ask for the half price against the normal price of the book.

The young saleslady said no Hot Price book was included in the special offer.

I explained that I understood you couldn't apply two discounts to a book, and I'd be happy to get it at half the normal price.

She said NO.

I could feel my face getting red, not from embarrassment, but from anger.
It was so illogical.
I dumped the books at the till and left without them.

As I stomped off to the exit, I noticed that about half of the books in the shop had the Hot Price sticker on them.  What a bloody rip-off.

I won't be buying from Whitcoulls again, and I'll do my best to stop the school buying the pupil's prizes from them or Borders (same company)

I had really been looking forward to reading those books

Belated Birthday Greeting to Me

Great idea Fflur.

Here we go

1952

Morning Sun - 1952 (Edward Hopper)

1952 in Scotland was a strange and alien place compared with New Zealand in 2010.

Everything appeared grey. 

The buildings, no matter the original colour, were a uniform grey/black, caused by almost a century of coal smoke.

People were grey.  You don't get a lot of sunshine in Scotland, and sun-bathing was not accepted as being quite proper.  Holidays in foreign climes, where the sun actually was strong enough to cause tanning, was only for the rich.

People were grey, they didn't wash much.  A weekly bath was enough for most.  Showers were virtually unknown.

The clothes were grey.  Or blue, or brown.  Men wore no other colours, except for their ties.  But wore grey coats.

The food was grey.  Everything was cooked thoroughly.  Vegetables were boiled almost to a pulp, meat was cooked well done, 'just to make sure.'  ( There were cases of parasitic infestation caused by eating beef and pork which were contaminated with worm cysts)

Everything appeared primitive to our modern eyes.

Deluxe model (note gramophone player underneath)

TVs were just starting to appear in middle class homes (Oh yes, the class system covers the country like a grey and cloying smog), were only in black and white, and the BBC only broadcast for about 12 hours each day.  Radio was still a very popular medium.

Phones were clumsy and made of Bakelite.  The rotary dial was great for local calls, but you had to use an operator for trunk calls to England and abroad.  Mobile phones just didn't exist.

All food was bought fresh.  Wives had to go shopping at the local stores almost every day.  Refrigerators were just coming into the price range of the upper working classes.  Food rationing was finally being phased out.

Chicken was expensive.  They were not intensively reared, and actually tasted of chicken.  A roast chicken was often the centerpiece of a celebratory meal, like Christmas.

National Service

National Service was compulsory.  The education system reflected the military hierarchical structure.  Classes were regimented, discipline in schools was very strict.  Religious services were also compulsory in schools. No excuses, you attended or else.

School leaving age was 14, although many stayed on.

State schools were divided into two types.  Grammar schools for the academically able, and Secondary Moderns for the rest.  Trade skills were pre-eminent in the curriculum of the Secondary Moderns.

Latin and Greek were compulsory in the grammar schools.

University entrance was difficult to obtain.  Only the top 5% academically (or the rich) went for a degree.

Cars were expensive.  Only the middle and upper classes could afford to buy and run them.

Air travel was only available to the wealthy.  A return trip to the USA cost about 3 years pay for a working man.

Smallpox was still a major killer in Asia and Africa.  Smallpox (and TB) vaccination was compulsory.  You had to produce a smallpox vaccination certificate for foreign travel.

Computers were very large, very expensive, and were found only in Universities, Major businesses and Government.  They used valves (transistors had been invented, but not yet in mass production), and could only be operated by trained personnel, using teletype machines for input and output.

It wasn't all bad.  There were some advantages to living in 1952.

No AIDS.
No antibiotic resistant bacteria.
No international terrorism.
Allergies and Asthma rates are very low compared with 2010.  It was a natural environment, with no massive influx of synthetic chemicals.
Polite behaviour was expected and enforced.
Any adult could discipline any child (within reason)
Corporal punishment was common in schools
Capital punishment was still used for murder
Unemployment was less than 3%


The reason I'm rabbitting on about 1952 is that it's very important to me.

58 years ago today, I was born in Scotland, in a wee town called Lanark

Have a nice day

Unfortunately I've got to go to work.

Unfortunately I've only received one bloody birthday card.

I don't bloody believe it.  58 years on this f*cking planet, and I get one, ONE card

From my dear daughter.

My beloved's in bed sound asleep, and I didn't even get a bloody card from her.
I'm pretty sure there will be one from her when I get home tonight, but at the  moment I'm wallowing in self-pity.

ONE BLOODY CARD

God help any kid who steps out of line today.  My self-pity is looking for a target.

Men and Naked Ladies

Fflur commented on my last blog that I seemed to have an uncanny ability to find reasons to place pictures of scantily-clad women in most of my posts.

A quick review of the last 50 posts gives a rate of about 30% of such pictures present.  Damn, I thought it'd be much higher.

I have a confession to make.

I like looking at pictures of scantily-clad pretty women.  Just about every guy I know likes looking at pictures of scantily-clad pretty women (I'm not sure about Ben, but I'm pretty sure he does as well).

I don't go looking for such images, but when I'm searching on the web for an illustrative image, my eye is always drawn towards such an image, and let's face it, there are an awful lot of such images on the web.

Why guys like looking at such pictures is beyond my ken.  We could argue about "hard-wired biological imperatives" or "evolutionary development of visual cues" or "Big Tits equal good child rearing capacity".
I just don't know, but I know what I like.

Women are so lucky.  Your bodies are (at least in the ideal) smooth, soft and curvy.  Blokes aren't.

Even at an early age I can vaguely remember a mail-order catalogue lying on a table in our home, and feelings of "niceness" when I was looking at pictures of ladies in bras and corsets.  Don't forget that this was the 1950s, so the ladies in these catalogues were a bit more robust than the waif-like stick figures seen in contemporary catalogues. 

The corsets were also much more substantial.  They looked as if they had been designed by the guy who built "The Hindenburg" and built by John Browns (Shipbuilders of Clydeside in Glasgow).

So I'm sorry, but if I find an image which might add information or character or beauty to a post, I'll chose the one with the pretty girl.

Don't be offended ladies, guys just can't help it.
W'e're crude.
Very crude.