Sunday, 25 March 2018

Dear Herod - Friday 23rd March

Dear Herod,

today is the last day of term.  It came upon me rather unexpectedly; I am usually counting down the days.  But today felt like another day.  And so it was. 

I remembered the cards I had picked up the night before.  The man on the driving licence did not appear to be on Farcebook or Twitter.  Google told me that the driving licence should be cut up and returned to the DVLA, and that national ID card should be returned to the Bulgarian embassy.  This seemed a nuisance, and did not solve the situation of the other cards.  So I looked up the company on the work card, and called the number, to find myself speaking to the unfortunate gentleman in question.  He was a builder and his van had been broken into the previous day.  He had lost a lot of tools and money.  He took my work address and turned up a couple of hours later.  He was palapably relieved to get the cards back, and most grateful.  I told him where they had been found, and he went off to check.

In the afternoon, several of the students were having a chat, and I sat down, and partly joined in.  Xxx was sating quite a few things that triggered the feminist in my, and I unwisely contributed a little.  At one point, he asserted that men didn't want to become primary school teachers because they were not allowed to discipline pupils, which OFSTED had proscribed.  I asked for the proof of this, and he pointed to the fact that there were so few male primary teachers.  The argument of the facts aside, I was irked that when I asked for evidence, I was provided with the result, not the evidence.  I doubt this particular student is on Farcebook, but it was obvious proof of the danger of fake news and dodgy statistics.  Such foolish use of rhetoric delivered Brexit to a deceived nation.

In the evening I watched an episode of Benidorm, a guilty pleasure I tend to keep secrets.  I am still smarting from Sister 3's assertion that I am like Gavin, and she imagines I would be just like him in Benidorm, despising the experience and offering acerbic commentary.  I smart because it is partly true.  I would loathe a holiday in such a place, but, unlike Gavin, I recognise that, for many, if not most people, it is what they would want.  I clearly need to cultivate a less curmudgeonly attitude.

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