I finally feel moved to put fingers to keyboard to celebrate the fact that today I drove to work with dipped headlights because...drumroll...it was almost light as I drove to the airport. My two-month vestigial hibernation is over - expect blogposts with more regularity from now on as I emerge, blinking, into the daylight. My two classrooms both have very poor natural light, and, as previously moaned about, I do 12-hour days, so for the past two months I have seen little daylight. Years ago, I played Mole in Toad of Toad Hall - I see it now as a rehearsal for life here. (But more of this in the next post, she added mysteriously.)
Last October, I was packed off on the first part of a training course that has enabled me to teach with considerably less effort than hitherto. Basically, I wind 'em up and let them go. It's brilliant. If anyone gives you the chance to do 'Critical Skills' training, take it. As a result, I now do even less work than I did before (hard to imagine, I know...) I have, however, written another play. Rehearsing this with the kids on Hoy is a strain but it is slowly coming together. Meanwhile, Stronsay is currently without a Head: there was a perfectly good Acting Head, but the council in their ineffable wisdom, decided to get rid of her and replace her with someone who couldn't start for several weeks. To steal a line from a pal who was working in a dysfunctional school, 'I just get my head down and pretend I'm self-employed.'
I will draw a veil over Christmas - Bill and I enjoyed each other's company but his brilliant idea of inviting his sister to spend Christmas with us was a disaster. I haven't actually spoken to her since. We did, however, manage to see The Nutcracker at the Colisseum, which was the highlight of our trip. If you live in London and have been wondering why we failed to so much as phone you, it was due to circumstances beyond my control.
Both Hogmanay and Burns Night were blighted by The Bug that has afflicted practically every inhabitant of Flotta. Dedicated readers may recall last January's Burns Night as one of the social events of my year: this year even young Graeme wasn't well enough to turn up. I repeated my error of last year and had three helpings of haggis, but there was no question of dancing anyway, as about 5 minutes after they cleared away the tables Bill announced that we needed to leave NOW and thus managed to make it home just in time before he was violently sick. It was nothing to do with the food: not only was I fine, but I also had haggis for school lunch that same day as well as for Sunday dinner. That's it for this year - haggissed out.
Thanks to those of you who posted comments - cheered me up no end. Pictorial offerings this time are of the oil terminal, the little settlement where we live and my Christmas present to myself. Those of you who admired 'The Snow Queen' as a child will understand how pleased I am to finally own a coat like the little Robber Girl. A lifetime's ambition realised! Excuse the apparent vanity of sticking two pics of myself on the blog, but as I couldn't see any of you over Christmas, I wanted to share my joy with you.
