Z pokes her head over the parapet

I hardly like to report that the day has gone quite well, but then I’ve always been a woman to tempt providence and not touch wood.  I mean, pfft.  If it’s going to happen, not mentioning something won’t prevent it and vice versa (or possibly not, I’ve been getting so bound up in multiple negatives recently that I sometimes am not quite sure what I’ve actually said).  So – today has gone quite well.  Barry took us in to fetch a vehicle, which turned out to be the Sage’s, because we couldn’t get my car going again (it turned out that something had got dislodged when an attempt had been made to jumpstart the car, Mike sorted it out later), several items turned up in the post that I’d been waiting for and I didn’t forget Meals on Wheels.  Well, that’s not true.  I would have forgotten if not for the reminder that comes up on phone and computer. But I delivered, that’s the point.

I visited Kenny again and hope to take Gus in to see him tomorrow, all being well.  I spent the afternoon in Year 9 Music, doing, um, remashing.  I’m able to help reasonably well when there is any problem, can advise on keys, tempo, synchronising the beat, fading in and out and cross-fading, adding echo and so on, but on a purely technical level.  I don’t feel any confidence in myself.  I get on well with the pupils though, they’re great.  They’ve settled into a (slightly teasingly) respectful friendly manner with me, not quite the same as with a teacher because I’m not, but we’re all comfortable together.  I love it that my job enables me to feel at ease with teenagers, in a way that many people of my age with grown-up children wouldn’t be.  They need to know that people are on their side, life is quite tricky enough for them.  Far more so than when I was their age.  Blimey, it was the ’60s then, when we were all hopeful and didn’t know anything.  But nostalgia tells lies, there’s no such thing as a golden age (that’s a stiff upper lip thing, we all know that there will never be anything like the ’60s, in truth.

8 comments on “Z pokes her head over the parapet

  1. Z

    Dear hearts, read again. “Help reasonably well … advise …” – and these are 14-year-olds doing it for the first time.

    Cranford was written by Mrs Gasket wasn’t it, Rog?


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