Health & Safety

I remember, back in Dartford days, when everyone would be saying around this time "I've been back a week and I don't feel as if I'd had a holiday at all." (Actually, one hadn't really HAD a holiday, seeing as the run-up to Christmas consisted of marking A-level coursework and one started the 2 inch thick pile of GCSE marking on Boxing Day.) Thus I can gloat: I've been back a week and scarcely feel as if I've done any work. I do, however, feel pretty ropey and, as 'news' is generally 'bad news' this at least gives me something to write about, seeing as it's dark here mainly, and days are grey and cold.

A most pleasant holiday in the company of those I care for, nearly all of whom managed to be ill, or have been ill, or were about to be ill. But not me! she shouted, Lennie-like, something I put down to being under-worked.

I flew down and back, just as well, as the ferries were cancelled and roads very dangerous. You only realise what that means when you come back several days after New Year and find the supermarkets devoid of fresh food. Somerfields had one Savoy cabbage that appeared to have crawled in there to die. That was it. I wouldn't fly if I could help it, though. You don't get fed, even though it's BA, and the security is tedious. I had 2 pots of homemade jam with me and they made me throw them away. You can no longer wheel your case from car to check-in at Kirkwall's tiny airport, as huge concrete blocks now block the access (presumably because they are expecting attacks from terrorists no taller than 9 inches and who lack climbing skills.)

I have put in a full week this week, as I am now the stand-in for the County Drama Advisor (note use of capitals to make this seem impressive) every Thursday. Wednesday's trip back from Stronsay was less than pleasant: it took the best part of two hours to get home. It was a surprise to see the plane, which appeared from an entirely different direction than usual, as it was so windy. Once airborne, it was so buffetted by the gale that we were at an angle of 45degrees, first one way, then the other. It was like being in one of those war films starring Kenneth More. I was so cold when I got home I had to go to bed to warm up. I had a rehearsal that evening for this one-act play I'm directing and walked out into the sort of rain that soaks you instantaneously to the skin. Even cuddling my little hottie, HW Bear, failed to warm me through by morning. But a trip to Hoy always cheers me up, especially as I was being paid a day's supply to do nothing.

The idea is that the entire school will put on 'Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat' at the end of March. Somehow, this ghastly Lloyd-Webber farrago has passed me by and I knew nothing about it, so I spent part of the day watching a dvd featuring Donny Osmond as Joseph and Joan Collins as Potiphar's wife. You don't know the meaning the term 'cheesy' until you have seen this film. It was truly dreadful. Then we had a staff meeting to decide on a modus operandi. I had assumed that I was expected to direct the show, until it was pointed out that I wouldn't be there for much of the rehearsal time. So who IS going to direct it? We're too busy announced the acting Head. (There are only 2 fulltime teachers at the school and the non-teaching Head is off on long-term sick leave.) So a proper show, in a theatre, with lights, sound and costumes is going to be directed by - er - nobody? Hmm...

The week ended on a high note, as Friday's lessons on Hoy went really well - a first - and I let them spend the last lesson attempting to teach me Scottish dancing. Me dancing - always good for a laugh. As for why I want to learn to dance, that'll have to wait till a future post. There was a beautiful sunset as I was leaving - photos above. It was just as frosty clear on the last day of term, when we had a fun day. I let the boys out to let off steam and they put me on the zip-line: they were laughing too much at me screaming to take a photo, so I include one of Ryan on it instead. The calm one was from the ferry that same morning: you can supply, in your imagination, the Viking longships that once sailed these same waters, gazed at the beautiful mountains of Hoy and, with that innate sense of the poetic with which those soulful Scandinavians were blessed, decided to call it 'High Island.'

So I was in a good mood and had jolly plans for a nice long frosty walk today, but walked out the front door and slipped on black ice on the concrete path, so I now feel achey and bruised and generally wretched. Curses be upon Orkney Islands Council and their bloody penny-pinching council house design: massive long sloping path with no safety rail and facing north so ice, once formed, never melts. I've hurt my back, my neck, an elbow and a wrist, so once I've finished this, HW Bear and I are crawling back into bed with a hot whisky and a nice book.

Happy New Year, one and all. May 2008 bring you health and happiness and, for those among you in the teaching profession, less marking.