Five (or Six) Go Mad In Somerset!

Well being the May half term, a couple of us from school decided to brave the Canal boat adventure again - this time the Kennet and Avon canal, which runs from Bristol through Bath and on to Reading, and boasts over 100 locks (we're not going to get to do all of those though!) and the famous Caen Hill locks, one of the "Seven Wonders of the Waterways" - a stretch of some 29 locks with 16 straight in a row!  It's going to be absolutely amazing!

Our intrepid explorers are - Erik (the "Chief Engineer" and general organiser of the whole thing), Q (the "Admiral"), Stella (the "Mutineer" as she will be leaving part-way through), Makeda (the "First Mate"), Michelle (the "Cabin Boy" on account of she has a complex about looking like a boy when she is soaked through from rain doing the locks), and myself (the "Pirate" on account of that was the only badge left!).

We picked up our boat, the Axbridge (from the AngloWelsh Boat Company), from Bath on Saturday afternoon and set off as quick as we could, off to cover as much of the canal as possible.  Unfortunately this canal is one of the more populated ones, and seeing as you can't go very fast at the best of times (and certainly not when going past other boats), we really didn't make much progress on that first day.  We didn't even make it to any of the locks!

But obviously the journey up from London and the bit of boating we did on the first day must've really taken it out of us all, because we slept so late the next day!  We didn't get underway til about midday, and it was raining, so it wasn't really very pleasant, but we stopped off at a lovely pub enroute for Sunday lunch, which was gorgeous.  The sun then came out, we made a bit of mileage, achieved a few locks, and generally felt very good about everything - until we accidentally hit another boat whilst trying to negotiate a narrow bit of the canal.  The woman from that boat came out, yelling and screaming at Makeda, saying "I'm gonna knock your teeth down your throat!".  Suffice to say we hoofed it out of there pretty quick!

Our boat is not the best narrowboat I've been on (listen to me, like a seasoned pro - although I've only been narrowboating twice in my whole life!).  It supposedly sleeps 6 - if 4 people don't mind sharing - and if 2 of those 4 don't mind having to set up their bed every night by folding down the table and all... And the electrics are rubbish.  If you don't rev the engine enough, or just motor slowly throughout the day (and remember you can't actually go fast as there are a lot of boats moored in this canal), then you don't have any electricity later in the evening.  It's pretty ordinary, actually.

Anyway, Monday.  We were up marginally earlier than Sunday and set off in two teams of three as the weather was really bad, raining very heavily (and at times even sleeting).  We accomplished several locks throughout the morning but then the wind came up.  It was blowing us all over the canal!  One bloke we passed advised us to pull up after the next lot of locks, as we were fast approaching the famed Caen Hill flight of locks - and there's just no way you can stop once you start them - they apparently take 5 hours to negotiate!

So we waited out the wind a bit and then decided to press on towards Caen Hill, in the hopes that we might actually make it up there.  At the start of the ascent, we stopped off at the ranger's station - and he told us we didn't have enough time to negotiate all the locks, we would have to moor up overnight at number 29 (some 7 away from the start of the sequence) as he was locking them all up for the night.

Which is exactly what we did.  We moored up, and then had to walk up past the 16 in a row which we would negotiate the next day, on our way to the Black Horse for our evening meal.

Moored up for the evening at Caen Hill locks

The flight of 16 locks at Caen Hill awaits us tomorrow (with another 6 at the top afterwards!)

The next day, Tuesday, the sun came out, we got up early (8am thank you very much) and then with another boat proceeded to make our way up the flight of locks.  I'm very pleased to report that as each lock was 'ours' (meaning that the lock level was at the level we were going in at - as opposed to requiring us to empty or fill the lock before we could go in), it was much quicker and we managed to do the whole thing in just on 2 hours!

We pulled off at Devizes wharf, at the top of the locks, said goodbye to Stella (who was making her way back to London) and headed off to do some shopping!

A much needed lunch break was taken after this - and now, as I write, we're heading off for our turning point - so we can turn around and do it all again - I hope not today though...

Procrastination Is My Passion

I'm supposed to be marking for the AQA so I decided to hop on blogger and post some meaningless ramblings.  Procrastination is my middle name after all.

I hate marking.  It really really REALLY SUCKS!!!  It prevents me from doing everything else in life, like, I don't know... something!  Anything but this!  I HATE IT!!!! (I will however love to get paid when I eventually finish it all...) 

And while I'm at it (my whingefest!), I hate that I'm not allowed to go to Thorpe Park tomorrow like everyone else.  The whole of Yr 7, 8 and 9 (excepting the naughties who have to stay back at school) are going to either Thorpe Park or Chessington - but because I'm not a tutor, I don't get to go.  No, instead, I have to 'help' load the kids on the bus (what am I going to do?  Hoike them up there in some sort of over the shoulder flingfest maneouvre?  Or just shove 'em into the bus like a Japanese train conductor cramming 'em all in in peak hour?).  And then I've got a whole day on my lonesome in the music department, 'supervising' those who haven't been allowed to go on the trip... bummer...

Roll on half term...

Murphy's Law

It's Murphy's Law, isn't it.

You see, I've been at Jean's for three or four months now, and I've been getting my mail redirected from Wavertree Road, because let's face it, sometimes you forget to give your address to someone / company that you really need to still get mail from, but in the heat of the move, you didn't inform them of the change.  That's why mail redirection is so good, because you can catch those odd few that you really want (and binning all the annoying junk mail, safe in the knowledge that when the redirection period is over, it'll keep going to your old address and annoying the new tenants there).

But a couple of weeks back I noticed that I was getting someone else's redirected mail.  Someone else from the same street I had lived in - Wavertree Road.   And not just the annoying junk mail stuff, no, I got her credit card bill and everything.  If I had been a wily criminal, I could've done some serious injustice with that information.  But no, I dutifully phone up some burke at Brixton Royal Mail sorting centre and politely (-ish!) voice my concern - especially as if I'm getting Ms V Rose's mail, then where is my mail going?

I wish now I hadn't.  Why?  Because of Murphy's Law...

You see, I got home today to discover a "redirected" letter  - and this time actually addressed to me - but alas, it was from the London Borough of Lambeth.  Apparently, on the morning of 2nd May, my car, Ruby, entered a so-called 'box junction' and stopped there when prohibited.  What?  What does that mean?

£120, that's what that means!  Or £60 if I pay it within 28 days.  £60!  And to think, if I hadn't phoned up Brixton Royal Mail, I might not've got the silly "penalty charge notice" and therefore could've got away with it!  But knowing that the redirection is now back in action, I'm sure the blighters would've been able to get through to me again (and that would've cost £180!).  Aaaaggghhh!!!

The real bum is that Ruby floppin' parked by a 'dropped footpath' (again, what on earth is that?) two weeks ago and cost me £60 then!  Seriously, if this car can't learn to behave, she'll have to go....!

That being said, though, they'll not get a penny out of me without a fight! I've looked at their "set of 4 photos", and if you check the time stamp in each one, no real amount of time has lapsed - which would've been the case had I stopped in the "box" for a while. It's only a matter of seconds - which is what you'd expect if I was driving through normally... so look out Lambeth, I'm comin' for ya!

Meanwhile, here's one of the lovely pictures they took to commemorate the incident... Annoying so-and-so's...

Now Is The Month of Maying

You may (or may not!) be wondering why the internet silence?  Why has there been a distinct lack of blog postage in recent weeks?

The answer is very simple.  It's May.

"Hmm," I hear you say.  "What's so special about May?  Isn't it supposed to be a time of joy and happiness at the onset of spring - you know, "Now is the month of Maying, when merry lads are playing, fa la la la la" and all that?  "Each with his bonny lass, upon the greeny grass"...?"

Ah, dear reader, allow me to enlighten you.  The month of May is the worst month of the year for the many thousands of secondary school teachers in the UK, for the simple reason that it is the time when all the coursework, all the marking, all the crappy paperwork for the GCSEs is due - or, if you are a KS2 (primary) or KS3 (up to Yr 9) teacher - you've got SATS exams to deal with.  And at the same time, some silly Burke in Parliament thought this would be a good time, every year, to hold elections - I swear, every year I've been here there've been elections in May, always on a Thursday (why? Like who can even get to a polling booth then, right?) and as many of the polling stations are schools, they have to close - so you miss a day (good for me, bad for the kids).  And at the end of May is when the SATS exams and GCSE exams start - which means frantic revision sessions with those students who think you should just drop everything and help them out now (when you've been trying to all year but they just wouldn't have a bar of it then), or even more frantic, panic-stricken revision sessions with those students who haven't done a scrap of work all year and suddenly realise the exam is today and they don't know anything!  So with 15 minutes to go before the exam is due to start, they're banging down your door wanting you to teach them how to do melodic dictation!

But before we even get to all that - the marking, I mean - you've got to get the work out of the kids.  They've had 2 years essentially to do the following:

1.  Compose (and record to CD / tape / Minidisk) a piece of music for a special event

2.  Perform (and record) a solo piece

3.  Perform (and record) an ensemble piece.

4.  Compose a piece of music in a given style (question set November 2007).

That's it!  And you don't even have to be able to notate the music you write, no sir, you can just do it all in Cubase or Sibelius and let the computer figure it out for you!  And you have almost 2 years to do all this!

So you'd think, with that amount of time, the kids would get the work in well in good time before the deadline.

Yeah right.  And I'm a monkey's uncle...

So lately, my whole life has been:  get up early, go to school, spend hours upon hours sitting with kids literally forcing them to finish their work, beg students to record something - ANYTHING - that could be construed as a performance of some kind, stay back late at school mastering to CD, recording performances and the like, come home, stay up late marking the bleeding stuff.  What a life!

And the problem is, there's a huge pressure on the kids to do well, of course - but most people don't realise there's an even bigger pressure on the teachers for the kids to do well - because if the kids fail, or achieve poor results - that gets reported in the Government's dreaded "League Tables" - and if you are below the Government's so-called 'Floor Target' - they could close the school!  So the pressure is really on...

And on top of that, I've done (yet again) something very stupid.  I do it every May - and every May I say to myself, "Not again, Kyles" - but alas, every May I still do it.  Exam-board marking.

Literally, its a huge pain.  The paperwork alone'll kill you if you're not careful.  It takes days, nay, weeks - six weeks to be precise - to do this work.  And they only pay some ridiculously low fee per candidate that you mark - its really not worth it.  But I do it every year because, hey, it earns me nearly £800 - and that's £800 I wouldn't have had, £800 I could spend on a trip - or my house - or something.  So I do it.

But this year has been completely ridiculous.  I have 44 schools' work to mark - and so far nearly every school that I have received has had huge errors in paperwork that have meant that I haven't been able to mark very much at all.  This is a real pain because the week after next, we're going away on the canal boat again - and I can't bring this marking with me to do (what a Nige I would be anyway if I tried to) as firstly, it's too bulky, and secondly, you're not supposed to do this work in public, for the candidate's privacy.  Like you could anyway, right?

So at the moment the bottom of my cupboard is full of these blasted purple packages, and I'm being seriously anti-social and just trying to get them finished before the deadline.  Suffice to say, I can't wait til it's all over... and you won't be seeing me much on here for now...

Ruby Finally Has A Win

Finally.  After so many trials and tribulations, Ruby has a win.

One of the many difficulties in driving a car in London has to do with the congestion and the narrow streets.  Drivers have to be much more courteous and willing to give way so that traffic can flow freely (well, as freely as possible).  This can prove very difficult in the narrow streets, where you have cars parked on both sides of the road, and really only enough room for one car to pass.  So what usually happens when two cars meet head on in this situation, is that the car that reaches a potential passing point, or gap in the parked cars, first, is the one that pulls off to the side to allow the other to negotiate a difficult passage.

The only problem with this is that in recent years, the level of intolerance and road rage in British drivers has been on a sharp increase.  This has particularly been the case in the male member of the species, especially when confronted with someone he perceives to be weaker.  This happened to me late last year, when I was returning home late one night from band practice.  I met a "white van" man head on, about 11pm, on a narrow road.  He came to a suitable pulling over place first, but blatantly ignored it, and pressed on - leaving me with no room to pass him.  I realised he had done this on purpose, and decided that I wouldn't move - why should I, he should've pulled over first!  He started f-ing and blinding, waving his arms up and down in the air, and I just calmly gestured for him to go back.  He then slams the van into gear and starts coming for me like a madman.  Of course, in hindsight, I should've just stayed there and called his bluff - would he really have rammed into me? - but this is England, the land of the yobbo (apologies to all those lovely English people I know though who aren't yobbos...) - and I guess in that split second I didn't really want to find out - so I gave in and reversed back.  Of course, as he passed, he gave me a few more salient words, coupled with appropriate gestures...

Then about 3 weeks ago, on my way home from school, I encountered a similar situation, this time with an African woman.  Again, she had the opportunity to pull over first, but didn't - and she refused to back up, and I refused as well - and she stupidly tried to pass, scraping my wing mirror in the process - and then pulling over to check the damage to her vehicle!  Fortunately Ruby didn't suffer on that one.

So last night, when I was on my way home from a night at the theatre with a friend, around 11.30pm, at almost exactly the same spot as the wing-scraping incident, the same thing happened again.  This time it was an African man - and rather than pull over at the first available place, he edged the nose of his vehicle just beyond the gap.  What an idiot.  Anyway, I don't know what happened, but I guess I just snapped - why should I have to keep backing back or giving way to these fools?  So I just sat there, and refused to move.  And so did he.  And I gestured for him to go back, and he didn't.  We were at an impasse.

So I did the only logical thing I could, turned off the engine and shut off my headlights (making sure the doors were locked in case the idiot got out of his car and tried to do something stupid).  And then a miracle happened.  The man gave in, and reversed back!  But the best moment was when I drove passed him - and he saw he'd lost out to a woman - he was not impressed...

One small step for man, one giant leap for courtesy and decency...

That's It - We're Going On Strike!

Today some 400 000 teachers went on strike over pay issues.  The National Union of Teachers (NUT) is arguing that the recent recommended pay increase by the Government, which equates to a 2.45% rise this year and 2.3% in 2009 and 2010, is below the rate of inflation and therefore equates to a pay cut.  As a result, the members of the NUT were balloted about strike action and apparently 75% of teachers voted to strike.

With about 65 teaching staff, 50 of which in the NUT, we managed to close our school today, like many other schools across the country.  This has actually been I think my 3rd strike since teaching in the UK - I think the other 2 strikes were about 'London weighting' (an additional sum given to workers in London to help compensate for the high cost of living) and I think about pensions, but I can't be too sure on that one.  Either way, in each strike we formed a picket line outside the school - we didn't actually manage to deter anyone from crossing our line (not that I'm aware of anyway) but we did manage to turn the garbage man around, so the bins weren't emptied today!

After our picket we went to the Lambeth Town Hall for a mini-meeting (plus breakfast) and then we marched through the streets of Brixton, waving our banners, before getting on the bus and heading up for the big march on Westminster.  I have to say, I have never seen anything like it, there were so many teachers there!  In fact, I had to whip off quickly to get some music for my kid's band rehearsal tonight, so I left the march at Trafalgar Square, ran up to Wardour St and went to the music store, came back with the intention of joining my colleagues later for lunch. Now if you know London at all, you'd know it would've taken me at least 40 minutes to get from Trafalgar Square to Wardour Street, buy music, and get back down to Whitehall - and the march was still going...! That's how many teachers took part in the march!

You can read reports about the strike here, or have a look at my little video presentation: One thing's for sure though, this is only the beginning...

An Open Letter To Cedar Road's Finest

Dear Graffiti Artistes of Cedar Road, Sutton,

I just wanted to write and thank you for the lovely new facelift which you gave my car, Ruby, this evening as I was out at the movies.

Think how absolutely delighted I was to return after such a wonderful evening - lovely dinner, clever, funny film, in the company of lovely friends - to discover your glorious workmanship. Such style, such finesse, such elegance - and all for free!  I wish I had your talents...

I know that Ruby only cost me some £700 to purchase, so I am truly grateful for the value your decoration has now given her in the event I need to move her on, especially after the high expenses she has incurred recently in passing her MOT and in the renewal of her registration.

I am so pleased with your work, which was completely unexpected and unrequested, that I feel I must share it with others. In particular, I think of my very good friends at the Sutton Police Station, who were equally impressed with your work. You really have outdone yourself this time!

I hope they are able to catch up with you soon and give you your just rewards for your efforts.

Thank you,

Sincerely

kmuki

PS My only gripe is that I think your work needs a teeny little touch up - but unfortunately the quote I've had to do this is £155 plus VAT.  Reckon you could spot me for it?

The One Where Kylie Pretends She Can Be A Drum Workshop Leader

So today I had to lead a drumming workshop for the Salvation Army at Sunbury Court. Yep.  Me.  African drumming workshop leader.

Yeah right!  More like, Oscar winning actress - if I could pull that one off!

Actually it was alright, we did a few rhythms that I usually teach the kids at school, and most people seemed to sort of get something out of it.  I managed to be a few pages in the book ahead of the participants!

The biggest hassle was getting the drums there - Ruby didn't know what hit her!  Oh and the bruises on my knees and fingers from loading and unloading the 25 drums I took along!  In fact I got my hand caught in some of the ropes on the djembe and my fingers swelled up terribly with like a blood blister...Youch!

When it comes down to it, there's no-one like Ruby to get the job done!

Check out the blood blister forming on my left hand index finger!

So now I have a new feather to my bow - Drum Maestro Kylie.... sounds kind of impressive...shame its a load of you-know-what!

Swannying About In Seville

Well after our long day of travel yesterday the last thing I really wanted to do, if I'm being perfectly honest, was spend a day running around like a headless chook sightseeing in Seville, but hey, that's what we were here for. So we slept in as long as we dared, then hit the streets of Seville...

We spent absolutely ages in the Cathedral, which was absolutely glorious. Apparently it is the largest Roman Catholic Cathedral in the world (St Peter's, Rome, is a Basilica) and also apparently its the largest Medieval Gothic building, but all that aside, it is really very beautiful, both outside and in.  We spent probably the best part of 2 hours wandering around looking at all the statues, paintings, stained glass windows... and the organs were pretty good too... Then we braved the climb up to the bell tower and were treated to a fabulous view of Seville!

After this we needed a spot of lunch, so we stopped off at one of the restaurants nearby.  Replete, we then headed off on a bit of a walking tour of Seville, and found ourselves at Plaza De Toros, doing our best bull fighting impressions...

We headed down to the river and took a boat trip to see the main sights.  Alas, our view of these sights was seriously disturbed by a middle aged couple obviously having a passionate affair, as they were unable to stop literally eating each other - seriously, I was lucky to be able to keep my lunch down!

Then we wandered around one of the main gardens near Prado De San Sebastian or something or other, checked out the times for the bus to the airport, and then spent the rest of the afternoon swannying about, taking silly photos on the way back to the hostel.

We got tidied up and then set off on a quest to find the best tapas in town, which basically required us to go to a few different places - but boy did we have some nice food!  My personal favourite was the croquetas we had at the last place we went to... yummy!

The next morning we had to set off again very early so we could get the 9.15 bus to the airport, but the problem is that Prado De San Sebastian is actually very big, and we were running a bit late (as we stopped off for breakfast) - and then we couldn't find the blinking bus stop!  We asked so many people, and they didn't know where it was either, eventually giving us directions to the old bus stop.  9.15 came and went, and we were still no closer to the stop, walking around in circles, when we saw a statue that looked a bit familiar (quite a feat in Seville as they have heaps of them) and with relief realised we had made it to the bus stop.  Alas, the next bus, 9.45, didn't turn up - and now we were in trouble as the flight was leaving at 11.15, and check-in closes 30 minutes before... so we had to swallow the costs and get a taxi.

Fortunately we made it, with about 4 people to spare as we were at the tail end of the queue!  Ryanair though have started this silly thing, that you have to pay for each bag you check in, and that you can only have 15 kilos max per person - and that your bag can not be more than 15 kilos.  So even though you can pay for your extra kilos, you have to have a second bag for them - thus incurring an additional cost to check that second bag in - geez they are blighters!  Fortunately my luggage was 14.4kg so I only just made it.

The flight back was pretty uneventful...

It had been an absolutely amazing holiday, one which I enjoyed very much!  Oh and by the way, you know how I was on the lookout for Benny's doppelgangers?  Well, I didn't find a Moroccan Benny, but here's Spanish Benny...

From Fes To Tangier And On To Spain...

Alas our time in Morocco was fast coming to an end.  After our wonderful evening the night before, we had to get up very early the next morning to get the train to Tangier, and then the ferry back to Spain.  So we got a petit taxi to the station and then just made the train with a few moments to spare... unfortunately though we had to change stations at one point - but there are no announcements on the train, and there only seems to be one sign - which of course Murphy's law dictates that our carriage would never pull up in front of so we could actually see where we are!  Fortunately the ticket collector checked our ticket just before we had to get off the train, and told us we were to get off at the next stop.

We had an hour or so wait til the train to Tangier, so we had a coffee and then watched Star Wars on the Zen.  We didn't have set seating on this train and everywhere was full!  We ended up in the very last carriage, which was actually quite comfortable - until someone got on at one of the stations with a chicken!  Luckily it only squwarked every now and then... when the train bumped a bit... so it wasn't as annoying as it might've been...

We got to Tangier and then had to get a petit taxi to the ferry port, but the bloke was being very difficult about the fare.  We told him we only had 20 dirhams, and he wasn't going to take us, but he eventually relented - although he drove around looking for another passenger to pick up too, to make up his fare - and then proceeded to chastise us the whole way to the ferry port for ripping him off.  To be honest, I was getting pretty annoyed by it, and thought it ironic that at the end he asked us what we thought of Morocco (my opinion had obviously gone down by this point because of his mini-lecture).  But we paid up and raced off to the ferry ticket office - and luckily made the next (fast) ferry to Tarifa!

This time the weather was good, and the crossing was very smooth.  From there we had to get the bus to Algeciras, but then we missed the bus to Seville and had to wait for quite a while for the next one.

We eventually arrived back in Seville at the hostel at 11pm, absolutely shattered...