Monday, February 27, 2006


The assignment has been handed in and the kids are getting through the pox. Lent starts on Wednesday and I won't be drinking much. So I am working on a bottle of wine.

Since the last update on the assignment ("a bloody good start") I have, as ever, struggled to find the time to rewrite and polish. 3,000 words is a hell of a lot - haven't done anything like since I was at university 20 years ago, and not much then to be honest. Drama wasn't that sort of course. Very practical (though less acting than you would think). FUnnily enough bumped into the executive director of theNational Theatre on Satruday in my favourite bike shop - Edwardes of Camberwell. Desptie the fact aht we were buying a tagalong bike so that I can take him to school in the Autumn, Thom was less than impressed. He was wearing a zebra pattern hat, a purple chenille scarf and some (Timmy Malet-esque) rainbow sunglasses - this is what the fashionable CBeebies man is wearing this week. Whilst I held Gal (in large fake fur white coat - very Hollywood) and talked to Gary, the shop boss and all round great bike seller, Thom was doing his "I'm so mature I'm a moody teenager and have lost the use of my arms" act. A man, looking at bells and whistles, honked a horn at Thom who disregarded him with a certain amount of disdain - I think its called "being cool", though Thom is very keen on "being a policeman" and helping people. The man looked up and I found myself in one of those "who'd have thought I'd bump into you on the 68 bus route" moments say8ing "Are you Nick Starr".

I recognised Nick because he has recently been a speaker on one of the management courses that we run at the V&A and Tate Gallery. Very nice man indeed. And a possible convert to the two wheel hegemony (dont know what that means, just like the word).

Working on Masters course days tend to start at about 9pm as that is when the house falls quiet - unless of course our lodger the mouse appears. The missus is known to run through brick walls at the sight of a cockroach (don't even say the word in her presence, because I am not exagerrating about her running skills!), but tones things down for mice. Just a few minutes of screaming "Akbar! Akbar!" which is hebrew for mouse (I'm just just guessing, but it seems like a good bet). There is also the pause for the "I just have to check my email" moment which always lasts longer than foretold and usually has a large grumpy sigh which signals my reincarnation as London stylee TH and another half an hour goes down the proverbial.

I worked Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights to re-write the assignment - providing an informing structure, mapping the events and giving a fuller explanation of my understanding of Argyris and Schon's Model OII learning model - who says study isn't secy.

Finished it at 2am this morning. Sent it off this morning after a few typos were found creeping back into the text under the guise of Portuguese spellings - a clever ruse, but somewhat defeated by the complete lack of use of Portuguese as an informing language construct throughout the first 4,539 words.

The boss is away and so is my guilt for being 5 minutes late each day and leaving, sometimes, 15 minutes early. It is all a hangover from managing orchestra recording sessions and having a Calvinist granny.
So I spent the first hour of the day re-tyring the bicycle and then retubing them as the inners kept popping under pressure and pinching.

My reward is the droopiness of the tired man, someone who doesn;t kow what it is like to watch a DD from beginning to end, who thinks 11pm is an early night, and who can argue that Walkers shortbread does fulfill the need for each of the five fod groups in an unhinged diet.

I've grown a beard as well - more a goatee and tache set. My dear chum the Nederlander (not so obscure reference to SE London musical dictatorship) trombonist says he can see me going grey now.

Tomorrow is Shrove Tuesday and, of course pub quiz night (so far this year we've had 2 unplaced, 1 first and the rest second place) so I shall be imbibing for the last time (except for pub quiz nights and the 3 days at Ashridge for the Masters) until Palm Sunday or the beginning of Pesach, whichever is soonist.

i might give up biscuits as well


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