£30k turns up in the bank account. Janice spends it.

13/06/2008 by April First.

The head of careers - Jock Rutherford (known, for reasons I have never understood as Clive) - rushed into the office and demanded to know what I was playing at nominating him for the post of school librarian. He was far too irate to talk to so I picked up the copy of the Book of Admin Excuses from Janice’s desk, opened it at random and said, “The Republicans have taken Swindon and it seemed the best thing to do.”

After that he calmed down a bit and explained patiently and calmly (as if to a rather dim child) that Mrs Columbine had insisted I sit in on the interviews because no one else was available, that I voted for Carole Clarkson on the grounds that she was the only applicant who had ever read a children’s book, by Mrs Columbine didn’t like her because she had been divorced.

“Are you divorced?” I asked. Clive said he wasn’t. I thought that was a pity since I have always rather fancied him, but I let it pass. I don’t do affairs with married men.

“You could always tell Mrs Columbine you are,” I said. (I wondered if that would then allow me to suggest a meal out, but thought probably not).

“But I’m not married,” he said. His chances of escaping from the Library went down, my chance rose.

“Well do you have a caravan, or long earrings? Could you grow your hair long, very quickly?”

He said he thought all these were unlikely, adding, “John will kill me if I take on any more work – he says we never have time together as it is.”

“John?” I asked.

“My partner,” he said.

“You’re gay!” I said.

“I thought everyone knew that,” he said. “That’s why they call me Clive.”

I still didn’t get it, and tried to ensure that my disappointment at this unexpected outcome - and hence my loss of a date with an attractive and kind man - didn’t show. I suggested Clive should bring in a few books on alternative families as an opening example of how he would develop the library, and that his troubles would then be over.

On turning to other matters I found £30,000 had appeared in our bank account with no explanation. Janice used it to hire an English as a second language teacher and upgrade the computer network’s central processing system that controls our computers, telephone system, intercom and clocks. I asked if such matters shouldn’t be referred to the senior management committee, and Janice looked shocked. “It’s not their money,” she said, and I suppose she was right.

Later Mrs Marchmount exploded with anger over the daily failure of Constance Hopple to fill in Form 10H’s register accurately. For once I felt sorry for her (Mrs Marchmount that is – one could never feel sorry for Constance Hopple). Phoning a parent to enquire why a pupil is absent only to be told he is at school and find the teacher has got the register wrong is not my favourite occupation (which is why I nominated Mrs Marchmount for the job in the first place).

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