29/06/2008 by April First.

An escape indeed - Havoc Blythe as always coming up trumps on the organisational front, although that doesn’t mean he endears himself to me any more because of that.

Ludlow turns out to be a lovely small town with impossibly small streets and half-timbered houses that must date back 300 years or more (we didn’t pick up a history so I don’t know for sure).  There’s a castle, a river which floods, a bridge that fell down over a year ago and still hasn’t been repaired, thus causing streets and streets to be shut, houses that look as if they are about to fall down, parking chaos in the main streets and plenty of space on the side roads which nobody uses.

We stayed with friends of Havoc Blythe on one of the main streets (how could he possibly manage to organise all that within such a short space of time?)   Lovely people - all of whom said that they “worked for the government” but wouldn’t elaborate.  Another mystery.  They seemed on very close terms with HB - as if were one of them, rather than a maths teacher.

Friday night we went to what should have been the Humphrey Littleton Band - except “Humph” as we jazz fans call him died a few months back, so instead we got a tribute band.  I expected a night club, dingy lighting, lots of smoke (although I know that’s illegal), lakeloads of drink…

But in fact it was a courtyard outside a pub, with a temporary roof and seating.  Yes, a jazz concert with seating!   And the average age of the audience was 130.  We were by far the youngest there and got strange looks from everyone else in the audience, and suggestive comments from members of the band who were old enough to be my grandfather.

It started at 8 and finished at 10.30, and although there was drinking, that was mostly by members of the band.   Apparently the concert had been sold out on the first day tickets were issued.  How DID HB get us those tickets???

Saturday saw us all at Ironbridge.   After seeing the bridge, and a couple of museums we had lunch at a cafe opposite the bridge itself and had what must be the worst pastie I have ever had in my life, served by the rudest woman it has ever been my displeasure to meet, who also had no idea how to handle money.

HB suggested we might write a book on the cafes of England.  Binky said it was amazing that they had not only built the first iron bridge, but that they had chosen to build it in a town called Ironbridge.  What, she wondered were the chances of that?

Saturday night saw us at another jazz concert.   I thought it excellent - but after 20 minutes a trombonist turned up.  Apparently he was a member of the band and should have been there from the start, but he had had too much to drink at lunchtime, and had woken up late.

Later I saw the man who was organising the whole festival, fast asleep in his chair at the front while the band were still playing.  I suppose this is what jazz is all about - I drank modestly, but I did enjoy it.

Sunday saw us do more sight seeing, followed by a great lunch, and then the journey back.  No sign of Berlosconi, no messages on my mobile, nothing.   It was just a lovely weekend.  I can face school tomorrow, full of confidence, bravado, and the certainty that our headteacher will not get me down.

I march into the future with confidence.

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29/06/2008 by April First.

Friday: a calm and quiet day compared with recently, until midafternoon

Ms Hopple managed to turn in a register that, as far I could ascertain, bore some relationship to reality.  A number of parents of children not at the school telephoned and offered us money.

The backlog of people with toothache is starting to decline and one of the dentists brought Janice and I a nice bunch of flowers each - infinitely nicer in fact than the rubbish the head bought me when trying to express his mangled feelings.

One of the NQTs asked if he could sit in the office for a while, where he cried quietly for much of the day.

But of course it couldn’t last and ultimately it was the head who derailed an otherwise quiet and normal day. I have noticed that he has taken to getting into his car, and driving around the carpark while smoking, throughout much of the day. On his way out he puts his head around the door and says he’ll be back shortly, and on the way back he announces he is back. A strange ritual and seemingly harmless.

However today on seeing the Latvian’s flowers he sidled up to my desk in that annoying sideways way he has, leaned towards me with the sort of frown that makes one think he is practising for a part in a WH Auden lookalike contest, and said that he absolutely, totally, completely must see me this weekend.

I said it was overwhelmingly, astonishingly and utterly impossible. He said it was vital - for the well-being of the school - which I find hard to imagine. I said I was being measured for a coffin in case I died on saturday, but he would not take anything slightly resembling a negative for an answer.

Eventually he meandered off luck a duck trying to paddle without realising it is on dry land, and wouldn’t you know it, within seconds Dr Havoc-Blythe was in the office asking if there was a problem.

Not even bothering to wonder how he manages to do it, I told him what had just happened, and he instantly suggested that Janice, Binky and I join him for a couple of nights in Ludlow to witness the annual jazz festival. I have no knowledge of jazz, nor do I know where Ludlow is, but Janice and I agreed in a trice.

HB would pick me up at 5pm at my house, and by then would have all arrangements made. As he left the office I looked at Janice. She smiled and shrugged. Whatever it was going to be like, it would not be worse than being stalked by the headteacher.

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