Sorry I lost count - of course it's thirty two!
The Tamla turn didn’t. Turn up that is and we got a substitute duo from North Wles who were very good. I started off with the best of intentions with a pint of diet coke but then Bash bought me a beer and that was the end of my good intentions.
I was just thinking last night about all of the reactions of people on cancer back up. Denial? Why me? Well I don’t ascribe to any of that. I have got bowel cancer. No question. Have I caused it? Possibly. I am overweight, have been known to eat a lot of fried food and drink a lot of beer like many males working in heavy industry. Would I have changed my life style? Well I certainly would not have piled on the weight like I did but everything else I would probably do the same. Why me? Well why not. I had a college lecturer in electrical engineering who used to run up seven flights to his office, never drank or smoked, grew his own vegetables organically because he was very wary of chemicals on his food. He died of cancer. So I try to look at things philosophically. It’s me because it’s not someone else. But that is ridiculous because actually it’s me along with thousands of others. The only way through it is “pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start again, and maybe again and again.” I suppose many will say that is easy for me to say. Some of us have got better odds than others and some are in a desperate situation but all we can do is work our way through it, take any help that is offered and bloody fight! Some of us have got better support than others so those of us who can support should.
Not really much else to report on the Ratso front. Bum still sore. Still being tired. Kept my self clean(ish) – some of the creams make a fair mess of yer underclarts but Irene has got a system. It’s all a bit mundane really until I go for my blood test tomorrow so what can I talk about?
My father was a bit of a gypsy and we moved many times. I went to four grammar schools, two of which were fabulous and two that were not so good although the last one I went to that was not so good but was mixed and it nearly ruined my life after a lifetime of all boys schools and going there when my sap was well and truly rising! I think part of the problem with my education was that the teachers did not seem to take enough time to understand me, I certainly understood them! Expecially Mr. Crowtther the music teacher at Aberdeen Grammar. He was a complete sadist and for some reason had an intense dislike of me. Every music lesson with him I got the strap. We had to learn the chanter for the pipes and while we were playing he would walk up and down and then say “Somone’s playing flat, Wilkie come out to the front of the class” and I would get belted. But I had a cunning plan! One music lesson I mimed. Crowther walked up and down and again pronounced that some one was playing flat but that he couldn’t find out who it was. The delightful child behind me put up his hand, “I think it’s Wilkie, sir.” Another leathering and I couldn’t even prove it wasn’t me! Some sweet revenge was enacted in the playground.
I suppose my biggest claim to fame was Hove County. We were in assembly and I suppose I was messing about. The deputy head shouted out, “Wilkie, there are four hundred boys in this hall and they are all waiting for one idiot!” At that juncture the headmaster stormed in gown flapping and jumping up on the stage. “And he’s just arrived! ” I responded. The hall erupted into anarchic laughter.
My father certainly didn’t laugh when he was summoned in front of the governors to plead for my continuing at the school. I was immediately suspended and was actually threatened with exclusion. Happy days.
FormerMember
all we can do is get on with it, but some days are harder than others.
Sorry you bum is still sore, it will get better - it has too.
hi drew i was also educated by a a couple of sadists also funny enough one was a music teacher maybe they are failed musicians who couldn't handle their failure .ours was a miss gaunt the woman scared me to death many a time.one day when i was aged about eight we were having this singing lesson which we had to put both hands with the tips of our fingers on our heads she would play a chord on this thing that looked like a round harmonica [im not musical at all can you tell lol] & we had to sing nooooooooooo in that chord while moving our hands up & outward back down to our sides not sure what that was for . well never was one for singing can't reach the high notes anyway so because my note came out like a strangled robin [we were in groups the nightingales ,thrushs & robins ] she thought in her wisdom that if i pursed my lips & she hit me with a ruler across the face at the same time that would enable me to sing the correct note wrong it made me say ooowwwwwwwwwwww not nooooooooooooooooo still not in the correct note either. i had this ruller imprint across my face all day . another time myself & the lads sat either side of me [we sat boy girl ] were messing about in class so we were made to stand on the huge window sills with our hands on the tops of our heads on one leg one of the lads who sat next to me had a brain tumour & he died a year later i must add nothing to do with the window sill incident but even so she did know he was ill at the time we were seven years old .can you imagine the uproar if this kind of thing happened today . well keep blogging i enjoy reading of your exploits take care love theresa xx
School can be a really traumatic experience. I was a real braniac at school, very extra-curricular and was in the debating society, head of the school council, drama club etc. However, still got treated and spoken to like shit by a couple of real asshole teachers.
It resulted in that when I began 6th form -studying 4 A-levels and the useless "General Studies" and having one free period a fortnight - yet a couple of months in I was still treated like something they scraped off their shoe I threw in the towel and went and got a job chambermaiding !! (My Mother has never got over it)
I never even went back to collect my GCSE certificates. They were all like, "Oh please come back you're such an excellent student" and I couldn't have cared less.
The school showed zero interest in my education, my future and appeared be be partially staffed by sadists. Without doubt it affected my future and the career I should have had. I also have a chip on my shoulder about being disrespected.
Of course there were 2 teachers that were incredible, Mrs Ruth Wedge and Mr Ian Copson (Theology and English respectively) both passionate people who inspired me and I have subsequently written to both of them to say thanks.
