Thursday 31 May 2012

the cutest thing in the world....

...is watching Rosie stand by the back gate waving goodbye to me as I cycle off to school.

Wednesday 30 May 2012

Postcard Wedding by Theo

It was, as Dom commented the following day, a postcard wedding. The bride looked lovely, pulling off the traditional white lace look with aplomb, the groom dashing and surprisingly sober, and the weather absolutely superb. Warm and sunny, with the Cotswolds looking and smelling incredibly fresh and lush after April's rain, it was the perfect day for a wedding. And we so nearly didn't make it.
 The wedding was on a Friday and due to my timetable there was never any way we were going to make the afternoon ceremony, but we planned to try and get to the evening do for 7.30pm after leaving Rosie with my parents for the night. However, as we madly packed the car in Bristol we realised that the wedding invitation with the directions for the reception had been accidentally recycled. No need to worry though: I knew it was in Northleach, which is pretty much a one street town. We'd find it.
 Upon getting to Northleach and asking in a couple of pubs and some passers by, it became increasingly obvious that if the wedding was in Northleach then is was a stealth wedding and an extremely well kept secret. I'd been calling and texting old school friends I thought might be at the wedding all afternoon to try to find out exactly where it was, to no avail. All dolled up, no place to go, it looked like Kate and I might have to turn the car around.
 Then Thom suddenly called (and not long after Dom and Beans): the wedding was just up the road in the picturesque and fabulously named Lower Slaughter. Heartened we cruised up the road, followed the signs, crossed the little mill stream, pulled into the 'car park' (the father of the bride's paddock) and were met by Beans, Vicki and Ian bearing an as yet uncorked bottle of bubbly. Perfect!
The reception was incredibly stylish, with a gorgeous teepee that I'm sure was a stage at Glastonbury in 2007 set up in the bride's family's back garden. We made it just in time for the cutting of the cake and the first dance, and well before the buffet and piles of charming cupcakes. As Kate remarked, it was incredibly tasteful, and a lot of fun. Phil - the groom - and I went to school together, and a dozen of so of our former classmates and their partners were there. It was fab to see them all, and it naturally made us all wonder why the hell we don't get together more often. It was an excellent evening, especially as being, being a Friday, we had two days to get ourselves together again afterwards!

Sunday 27 May 2012

Holding a torch for history by Kate

 "Why do you want to go and see that?" asked Theo incredulously when I mentioned my desire to watch the Olympic torch on a portion of its journey through Bristol.

Patriotism and anything approaching it has never been Theo's thing.  Even his concern about how England/The British Lions do in their various football/cricket/rugby matches rarely extends into actual support as such. Detached yet critical interest would be closer to the truth.

As for me, I'm more than happy to do a bit of cheery flag-waving when the occasion calls for it. Well, maybe waving an actual flag is a bit further than I'd go, but I'll happily engage in National Events when they come along, providing it's a case of harmless team spirit rather then Xenophobia-tinged tub thumping.

My argument to Theo went like this:
1. When is the next time the Olympic torch is likely to come to the UK?
2. When is it next likely to come to Bristol?
3. When is it next going to pass the top of the road where we happen to live?

In the end, the glorious evening weather enticed the still-muttering Theo to join Rosie and I for an al fresco supper in the local park before edging into the throng lining Church Road to see the torch relayed through.

The mood was upbeat and expectant as the cavalcade of various branded buses and trucks formed the vanguard for the torch. The Bristolian sense of humour made sure the unintentional inclusion of a local recycling lorry with the parade was greeted with the second biggest cheer of the night.
Given that we were standing a little way back from street, when the torch finally came, we only just managed to track its passage past us and towards the City Centre. Possibly a teeny bit of an anti-climax. But who cares? We came, we saw, we cheered a bit (or made cynical remarks, in Theo's case) and tootled off home, pleased to have participated in a tiny bit of history.
 
Look very closely and you'll see the torch.
Clue: it's to the left of the dark haired woman's head...

Saturday 26 May 2012

Cotham Hill by Theo

There should definitely be more of this kind of thing, especially if this glorious weather is going to continue: street parties.
Last Sunday one of our favourite streets in Bristol, Cotham Hill, closed itself of for the day to host stalls and live music. Lined with charity shops, the organic food shop Earth Bound, plus several delicious coffee bars (including the Tinto Lounge where we had our first meal together) it's been a favourite haunt of ours for a while, so it was really nice to see it so thronged and busy. We even bumped in to a couple of friends; Susy from Glis Glis and Bob, the former landlord of the pub where we first met (The Junction on Stokes Croft). Rosie was pretty content being slung on our backs for the most part, although she had to be mollified with biscuits when the fruit smoothie we offered her wasn't up to her standards!

However, as much as we like browsing on Cotham Hill, the real reason we were there stepped on stage at 5pm: The Hinkley Veltones. Part Rock n'Roll, part Country, and all great, they are one of our favourite bands, so we seized the chance to get to see them without having to arrange babysitting. 

They'd added a forth member since we last saw them, which just made them rock even more. Kate in particular had a good boogie to them, with Rosie stoically putting up with it in the back carry. Their first album was one of the few CDs we actually took with us on our grand European honeymoon, and we were very pleased that they squeezed in some of their 'hits' from that - 'Baby please don't leave me' and 'Man of my intentions' still sound awesome.

More of this kind of thing please!

Sunday 13 May 2012

Summer placement - by Theo

The University of Bristol PGCE course involves 3 teaching placements in schools: 7 weeks in the autumn; 12 weeks in the spring, the whole of terms 3 and 4 effectively; and 4 weeks in the summer. A grand total of 120 in a school setting.

As I began my final placement I was in two minds. I couldn't decide whether the final placement was; a) a bit of a pointless add-on, appended to the end of the course to ensure trainees achieve the statutory requirements for time spent in school or b) the true test of a trainee, which sorts out the outstanding from the mediocre. Let me explain.

Much like Ofsted, the course ranks students on a 4 point scale across various criteria - very good, good, satisfactory and cause for concern. So far I've been judged very good or good in all categories, and so, in my case, it seems as if I've got nothing to prove and everything to lose - I can only really be judged worse! This fact seems exacerbated by the stipulation that we are to use the 4 week placement to work on any areas of weakness and to extend ourselves by teaching year groups and topics we have yet to cover.

Yet it is precisely this which, I suppose, is the true test of us trainees as teachers - can we, in 4 weeks, go into a new class, already 3 weeks into a scheme of work and take over instantly, making a difference to these young people (or, at the very least, not doing any damage to their education). While I seemed to have had little trouble doing this in a Year 12 AS class last week, taking back my old Year 9 class and seeing that all my patient work on behaviour the past two terms had come undone during my brief absence was a short, sharp shock. Taking on a Year 7 class with extremely low-literacy levels and learning to differentiate and personalise accordingly in such a short space of time is going to be a real test.

So while (like most of my fellow trainees it seems) I've got one eye on September and my first post, and the other on my final assignment, it seems that I really should be taking this placement a lot more seriously. Glad it took me a week to figure that one out then!

Sunday 6 May 2012

Cesar Jalon 1967-2012 by Theo

October 2008. We'd been sitting in our campervan in a Repsol Garage just outside San Sebastian de los Reyes for about 30 minutes, cursing the fact that our mobile batteries had died and wondering whether we were in the right place. We were due to be spending the night with Belen, our new Madrilena friend, who had long since overtaken us on the road to Madrid in the Pueblo Ingles coach. Suddenly, just as we were about to head off in search of a public phone an Audi snaked its way across the forecourt and pulled up alongside us. "Kate and Theo? Hi, I'm Cesar, Belen's partner." So began our friendship with the irrepressible, warm, funny, enthusiastic and helpful Cesar Jalon, a friendship all too sadly cut short yesterday when Cesar lost his fight against the pancreatic cancer he'd been diagnosed with over a year ago.





Cesar was at the centre of our world in Madrid. A Spaniard raised in Nambia and South Africa, English (Afrikaans, German and French) was as natural to him as Spanish, and so he swiftly became our translator, both in terms of culture as well as language. When not guiding us through paperwork he helped us unblock mobiles, jump start cars, get backstage at Africa Vive, and jump queues at clubs. Our efforts to repay his and Belen's kindnesses really were painfully inadequate - we often wondered how we would have managed in Madrid without them.

When we made the decision to move to Madrid we had no idea where we would live; we arrived on Jan 5th 2009 after a 36 hour drive from the UK and checked into a bland travelodge outside Madrid, despondent and just a little depressed. At 11pm that night we were woken by Cesar's voice on the phone: "Where are you? In Alcobendas? That's ridiculous! Come here immediately!" Our relief and gratitude were indescribable: in that one conversation we suddenly both knew that life in Madrid was going to work out.  

Cesar was the first person to visit us in Hospital La Paz after Rosie was born; if we'd been the sort of people who have godparents for their children, Cesar would have been top of the list. As a regular visitor to the UK (his brother lives in London) we'd assumed he'd be able to follow her as she grew up. If his death is a tragedy for all those who knew and loved him, it's an even bigger one for those who, like Rosie, never really got to know his warm and playful heart. Our love and condolences go out to Belen and all his family.  

Adios amigo.

Friday 4 May 2012

Bonnie Prince Billy & Trembling Bells

Listening to most of Bonnie Prince Billy's recorded output, a first time gig goer might be forgiven for expecting a quiet, reserved man, singing just barely above a whisper, with a rapt crowd hanging on every well placed silent pause in the music.

How different then the reality. Perhaps Will Oldham (aka Bonnie Prince Billy) is in fact a shy man, but he certain has no hang ups when it comes to dancing like a loon in love with the music in front of a few hundred people. As for pauses, well, apart from an acapella version of the folk traditional 'My husband's got no courage in him', there was barely a pause as Trembling Bells fully filled every track with a veritable wail of sound screaming out of their guitars. To be honest this was, in fact, more of a Trembling Bells gig as 'Riding' aside, nearly all the songs were written by TB's drummer Alex Neilson, as are most of those on their joint album 'The Marble Downs'. (He's clearly a prolific writer Mr Neilson, as he and his songs also featured in the support act - the lovely and entirely acapella group 'Muldoon's Picnic'.) Despite this BPB couldn't help but be the centre of attention with his madcap gyrations and incredibly distinctive vocal style. Also, while practically every song was a duet between Will and TB's Lavinia, he also seemed to get more than his fair share of memorable lines, to wit:
"As I rode out to Beachy Head,/ My live was a suicide note to Johnny Walker Red" or " I used to be your universe/ You're not even my Birmingham."

An utterly awesome gig.