lesson on Compass directions....,
I give a whole schpeel about direction, and The Red Arrow Always Points North.
me: Turn our compass around a bit, let it settle and then watch the red arrow swing back to North.
Kid 1:um... mine points East.
Kid 2: No. South.
Kid 1: Yes, but we have different compasses.
Me: Okay, let's try again. Ignore the letters on the side of the compass, just look at the red arrow. Point where it's pointing. Good. Now, that's North.
Kid 1: East.
Me: No. North. The Red Arrow Always Points North. Ignore the letters on the side. We're only looking at the arrow. It points North.
Kid 1: mine points East.
*thunk*
Monday 21 November 2011
Friday 18 November 2011
Love story..
In 1949 right at the end of the War a young RAF pilot was admitted into hospital for observation. During his call-up he'd had to leap out of his plane twice and being the pilot, he had to go last after all of his crew. One of the times he'd jumped, his plane had been on fire. The doctors wanted him to be checked out medically.
At some point he woke up to find a young, tall, dark-haired nurse in his room. She was a trainee doing her rotations in the ward.
The first thing he said to her was "well, if we're going to get married I might as well know your name."
The young nurse was astounded at his audacity and left immediately. She managed to persuade a friend of hers to swap wards so that she wouldn't have to deal with him again.
But our dapper young pilot had other ideas and went on a hunger strike. The young nurse was ordered back to her original rounds. When she walked into his ward, the pilot smiled and asked if she had a boyfriend. She did, a man called Scott.
"Get rid of him," he said dismissively.
During the course of the day to two of them chatted and got to know each other a bit more. That evening, the nurse did, in fact, get rid of Scott.
Charles Daniel Mayger (Dan) and Ruth Caroline Philp began courting. One evening Dan took Ruth to a fancy dance. He was wearing a white dinner jacket and she, a light pink and white netting dress. She also wore a gold charm bracelet, a gift from her father, but the anchor charm kept getting caught on her dress while they were dancing. She slipped the bracelet into Dan's pocket for safe keeping but predictably forgot to retrieve it when she got home.
Three weeks later the bracelet was returned by post. In one of the spaces was a new charm, a gold heart.
Shortly after that Dan proposed, Ruth accepted. When announcing it to her family they were rather shocked by their reactions. Her parents claimed that she had been won over by the uniform, that she was too young to marry, that she had to wait until she was 21 and that she had to finish her nursing qualification.
They decided that there was only one thing to do - no, not elope as I thought. They had to get pregnant. Which, according to Ruth, took some practise! Eventually she got the chance to announce her pregnancy to her parents, thinking it would solve all the problems. Instead she was booked onto the next train to Johannesburg where she was to have an abortion. An urgent telegram was sent to Dan.
At the station, as she was being ordered onto the train by her father, Dan arrived, utterly furious at the turn of events. Dan and Ruth's father had a loud shouting match on the station platform. Dan won but Ruth was essentially disowned. Two weeks later Dan and Ruth were married in a court of law. Her parents and siblings weren't present.
Seven months later little Ian was born. And 4 years later along came Allan.
Dan and Ruth moved all round the country, watched their sons grow up, get married and have children of their own. They built their own house on a plot of land - and named it The Plot. They had picnics in The Forest - a few acres of msasa woodland. They grew old together.
Dan passed away in January 2002. A few years later The Plot was sold and Ruth moved into a care home where she ruled the roost. She grew veggies, read to three blind ladies every night, met up again with old school friends. In 2008 she moved to Lancashire, England to be closer to Ian and his family. She broke her hip, was operated on and learnt to walk again, but slowly got more frail, more arthritic, more brittle.
And now we wait. She's asleep with family sitting with her. She is 85 years old. She's sleeping with a picture of Dan and any moment now she will join him.
And Dan, Grandpa, is waiting. He's 25 years old again and wearing his RAF uniform. He's standing with his hands in his pockets, grinning - that grin where you know that he's planning something naughty. He's waiting. Any moment now Ruth, Gran, will enter wearing her white and pink netting dress. She will be standing tall, free of pain and osteoporosis. She will smile. He'll hold out his hand and she will walk to him and take it.
And together they'll walk away, leaving the world and it's cares behind.
At some point he woke up to find a young, tall, dark-haired nurse in his room. She was a trainee doing her rotations in the ward.
The first thing he said to her was "well, if we're going to get married I might as well know your name."
The young nurse was astounded at his audacity and left immediately. She managed to persuade a friend of hers to swap wards so that she wouldn't have to deal with him again.
But our dapper young pilot had other ideas and went on a hunger strike. The young nurse was ordered back to her original rounds. When she walked into his ward, the pilot smiled and asked if she had a boyfriend. She did, a man called Scott.
"Get rid of him," he said dismissively.
During the course of the day to two of them chatted and got to know each other a bit more. That evening, the nurse did, in fact, get rid of Scott.
Charles Daniel Mayger (Dan) and Ruth Caroline Philp began courting. One evening Dan took Ruth to a fancy dance. He was wearing a white dinner jacket and she, a light pink and white netting dress. She also wore a gold charm bracelet, a gift from her father, but the anchor charm kept getting caught on her dress while they were dancing. She slipped the bracelet into Dan's pocket for safe keeping but predictably forgot to retrieve it when she got home.
Three weeks later the bracelet was returned by post. In one of the spaces was a new charm, a gold heart.
Shortly after that Dan proposed, Ruth accepted. When announcing it to her family they were rather shocked by their reactions. Her parents claimed that she had been won over by the uniform, that she was too young to marry, that she had to wait until she was 21 and that she had to finish her nursing qualification.
They decided that there was only one thing to do - no, not elope as I thought. They had to get pregnant. Which, according to Ruth, took some practise! Eventually she got the chance to announce her pregnancy to her parents, thinking it would solve all the problems. Instead she was booked onto the next train to Johannesburg where she was to have an abortion. An urgent telegram was sent to Dan.
At the station, as she was being ordered onto the train by her father, Dan arrived, utterly furious at the turn of events. Dan and Ruth's father had a loud shouting match on the station platform. Dan won but Ruth was essentially disowned. Two weeks later Dan and Ruth were married in a court of law. Her parents and siblings weren't present.
Seven months later little Ian was born. And 4 years later along came Allan.
Dan and Ruth moved all round the country, watched their sons grow up, get married and have children of their own. They built their own house on a plot of land - and named it The Plot. They had picnics in The Forest - a few acres of msasa woodland. They grew old together.
Dan passed away in January 2002. A few years later The Plot was sold and Ruth moved into a care home where she ruled the roost. She grew veggies, read to three blind ladies every night, met up again with old school friends. In 2008 she moved to Lancashire, England to be closer to Ian and his family. She broke her hip, was operated on and learnt to walk again, but slowly got more frail, more arthritic, more brittle.
And now we wait. She's asleep with family sitting with her. She is 85 years old. She's sleeping with a picture of Dan and any moment now she will join him.
And Dan, Grandpa, is waiting. He's 25 years old again and wearing his RAF uniform. He's standing with his hands in his pockets, grinning - that grin where you know that he's planning something naughty. He's waiting. Any moment now Ruth, Gran, will enter wearing her white and pink netting dress. She will be standing tall, free of pain and osteoporosis. She will smile. He'll hold out his hand and she will walk to him and take it.
And together they'll walk away, leaving the world and it's cares behind.
Tuesday 1 November 2011
musings from the middle of nowhere....
Waiting. The hurry-up London feel abandoned out of necessity, sitting in a station seemingly alien from the norm. People walking too slowly, irritated by my rush, answers to questions unhurried, amused by my agitation.
Forced to wait in an unheard-of 40 minutes in the land of blue leggings and lilting accents,
watching the young man crisp-eating, gazing vacant,
the grandmother trying to disguise her age with too short dresses and hooped earrings nestled in the creases of her earlobes, pink-coated, green-shoed,
the smile-weary waitress apologetically serving cardboard tasting coffee in a chipped yellow mug, "woon fortay plays."
A strange comfort - I notice not a single set of earphones - in the unhurried grey. And I notice the friendly smiles of a stranger and the waitress,
and the singing of a lone coffee drinker.
Forced to wait in an unheard-of 40 minutes in the land of blue leggings and lilting accents,
watching the young man crisp-eating, gazing vacant,
the grandmother trying to disguise her age with too short dresses and hooped earrings nestled in the creases of her earlobes, pink-coated, green-shoed,
the smile-weary waitress apologetically serving cardboard tasting coffee in a chipped yellow mug, "woon fortay plays."
A strange comfort - I notice not a single set of earphones - in the unhurried grey. And I notice the friendly smiles of a stranger and the waitress,
and the singing of a lone coffee drinker.
musings from the London Tube
Tightly packed tube trains, personal space abandoned in the expectation of an earlier arrival, vomited onto the platform, stumbling over bags, feet, pushing through the over-eager rushing to find their places on the train, churned like butter with the crowds, down uneven helix staircases, along narrow corridors, stepping over buskers and their empty hopeful-hats, thrust up packed escalators .... and onto the next crowded platform.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)