I'm going to the World Cup

This has been a very long and strange week.

Now fully recovered from the various bugs, ailments and sundry syndromes that have made my existence a varied hell for the last two weeks, I can return to the calm, sane world of Blogging with a clear mind and conscience.

The last week of school is always a bit weird and we seem to keep all the strange activities of the teachers and students to this period.  We've got kids and staff away on Kapa Haka (Maori cultural performance), Shakespeare day, where the Year12s and 13s put on various excerpts from the plays, MyTube, where the kids (and a few deranged staff) put on skits, sketches and musical performances and not forgetting Parents' evenings.

It all sounds great, but I've got to make sure all the classes are covered by at least one responsible adult (a difficult task in this asylum we call Nuova Lazio High School) and today (Shakespeare Day) is probably the worst.

Add in the end-of-termitis which always strikes teachers and removes them to self-medicated delirium, writhing in their sweat-soaked bedding, and tempers get a bit fraught.

Well mine does anyway.

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I sent out a mildly humorous email, referring to S*****, a pupil who has oft been a real pain-in-the-arse for these last 3 years.  It was his birthday, and he's achieved the great age of 16 years.  It's a great age, because it's also the age at which he can legally leave school, and I referred to this in the missive, sent to all staff as a bit of light relief.  It was pointed out at the morning briefing that such emails were completely unprofessional, and that we should be more careful in the content of such emails.

I didn't say the kid was a scrote, or an unrepentant malingering trouble-maker, merely pointed out that S***** had a birthday, and that he'd turned 16. 
Admittedly I did include the words "Glory Hallelujah ", and I think I asked what was the legal leaving age, but nothing too scurrilous.

It's about time some of our senior colleagues developed a sense of humour.

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Talking about humour, my beloved indicated that she would like to go and see one of the Rugby World Cup(RWC) matches being played in our beautiful country in September.

If you aren't aware of it, the whole of New Zealand comes to a grinding halt when the All Blacks play, and when the RWC is on the effect is greatly amplified.  This has caused even the school terms to be adjusted so that no teaching occurs during the Cup matches (not that there's much teaching going on anyway during the other times)

My beloved, an avid All Black fan hinted (well actually she said "When are you going to get off your arse and book us some tickets") that she wanted to see the All Blacks play beat completely stuff another country's pitiful excuse for a Rugby team.  But she didn't want to travel far, and hinted that a match in Wellington (close to where we live) would be preferable.

So I booked the tickets.

At $198 each.

To see what could well be the match of the century..


NEW ZEALAND versus f*cking CANADA.

It'll be like the British Army attacking Monaco, with Chieftain tanks and a battalion of the Black Watch versus two (Italian) policeman in a Fiat 500.



I ask you, where's the sportsmanship in that?  If we don't beat them by at least 100 points, the All Blacks should get shot. (If by some kind of black miracle, and the Canadians actually win, or even draw, it is well within the bounds of possibility that the populace will riot and take the ABs apart with their bare hands.)

My kind of match actually.  All the blood, guts and thunder of a professional Rugby Match with a pre-ordained result.


But $198 each?

Ah well anything for a quiet life.

PS
My apologies to my readers (if any) out there in cyberspace for the long gap in posts, I'll try and do better.