Another new vocation

Yesterday, I was again invited to the house of the Lovely Catholic Family round the corner to a birthday party. In fact, I even got an early invite to spend time with the deep fat fryer and fry up various veggies into crisps, (one who is tired of deep fried parsnips is tired of life,) whilst the garden had been transformed into a party venue with a gazebo, tables, chairs etc. The weather was utterly perfect for Sept; warm, with a breeze right through the afternoon. The garden looked beautiful and I would have loved to play in it as a child.

Anyway, the birthday man, for now he is 21, had I hope, an excellent day. Certainly all the guests were having a very enjoyable time. Some climbed trees, some played with a guinea pig and some just chatted to each other, all whilst eating lovely food. (I was in the latter category, to be fair.)

As often happens in these parts, people squint at me, thinking we probably have met before and then I suggest that maybe I taught some of their children. Fortunately, it's always the parents of the children who you have plenty of good things to rhapsodise about, not the ones in Leutgeb's multi volume black book of 'teaching incidents I try to forget.' Moving swiftly on and getting to the point, someone I used to teach has entered a seminary for an order, not in this country, aged 19 and there he was in picture, beaming in a cassock. Believe me, when you get a list of leavers' destinations - university, apprenticeship, work, seminary/noviciate is not one of the boxes with a number in it. It's not even a box.

Impending tardiness

is my favourite phrase of the moment.

Spent another two lessons reading university application personal statements and gratifyingly one member of the form stayed up most of the night finishing a book so that he can write about it. I am minded to put that into the reference. He has got hold of the first year reading list and is reading through it and was complaining that the postal strike means that some of the books have not yet arrived.

The other boy has also read a lot so when I asked him what else he had read by Oscar Wilde apart from, 'The Picture of Dorian Gray, ' he rattled off a whole pile of stuff.

Now I must attend to me picture in the attic... after this week it's looking a little tired.

Trying to say the right thing

Spent much of this week talking to the Year 13 part of my form about the great unknown that is next year.

My favourite question is, 'What do your parents think?'

The ones who have to have the application in early are getting it together, the others have a little time. It's all sooner than they would like.

At the other end of the spectrum, I am for the first time reaching Year 6, who are, as yet very cute, but ask squillions of questions. They do at least wait their turn before telling you random facts. No-one left his bag, PE kit, lunch card, blazer in the room, so no tears so far. I just have to remain in gentle primary teacher mode and all will be well.

Mahler 10

was the soundtrack of the disater that was my U6th year at school.

I listened to it so many times that I nearly wore out my friend's tape and she was forced to buy me a recording as a present when I went to university.

When I arrived, I discoverd the score in the library, copied out the first page and sent it to her. I bought the same friend the score for her 21st birthday.

Mahler never finished the symphony, but he had sketched most of it in short score by the time of his death and Deryck Cooke completed it in the 60s and then revised it in the early 70s.

The Adagio first mvt sometimes gets played alone, but the whole symphony rarely gets an outing. Tonight is one such occasion, at the Proms with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra.

PS To the people who say that Mahler only converted to Catholicism to get the job at the Vienna State Opera, I say listen to the 8th symphony.

Leutgeb eats her greens

In between wowing the visiting schola on Tues with her Liber Usualis, TCD (The Choir Director, not Trinity College Dublin) from Brighton had a guided tour of my allotment. Having nurtured my kale from seed, it's looking quite perky, but not curly. I was waiting for curliness to set in but was informed, 'it's not that type.'

Dodging showers today, I was able to dash round, pick some any enjoy it for tea.

The kale comes via The real seed company, who save seed and then put it into little packets for you to plant. The kale comes originally from Sutherland, but is coping well with the tropics in the garden of England. Interestingly, listed amongst their seed providers is a sister from St Caecilia's Ryde.

PS When allotmenteers bore you going on about how fresh their food is, what they mean is that things like kale start wilting as soon as you pick them, so the ground to table time has to be short.

Front or back?

Through a window, I caught a glimpse of the benches inside the Church the other day, just before Mass was about to begin and the Church appeared empty, which seemed really weird. When I got into the Church, of course, it was just that the congregation were polarised. Nothing to worry about, just some people go for the front and some the back.

Given a choice I go for the back.

So, without one of those handy poll things, where do you prefer to be in the Church?

La Rentree

is just around the corner and this is the time of year when I get stuff organised at home.

So I've tidied the back garden and filled the brown bin with stuff, made a year's supply of jam, taken my winter coat etc to the dry cleaners, signed up to be on the elctoral roll, *cough* finally got round to updating my Driving Licence and filled the freezer with homemade stuff that can be brought out when I need one of Leutgeb's ready meals. Homemade tomato sauce from me own toms and herbs. :-) Mm might knock up some liver and bacon too.

I love my ready meals on days when I need to eat homecooking, but have not the time to do homecooking. Basically when I need my dinner now!

On to filling a bag for the charity shop... and deep cleanse the house.

It all makes me feel prepared to face the relentless onslaught, I mean deeply fulfiling work, which is teaching.