This week’s Friday weigh-in revealed I had shed a pound while one of my fellow dieters actually put on two. I am experiencing deeply unChristian emotions.
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The Pre-Prep deserve loud Yaroos from us all. They passed with distinction what can most charitably be described as a very detailed external audit. Distinction, but not perfection. Where did the Pre-Prep fall down? Gentle readers, I must tell you that the serving of fruit scored only 1 out of 7. That’s some pretty rubbish fruit serving if you ask me. 1 out of 7. Does this mean that our little ones don’t get enough fruit? How can this happen? OMG! What next? Scurvy? But I’d forgotten this is 21st century Britain. Mrs. Deval-Reed explained that if you serve fruit as we do with a serviette (how civilised) you score 1. Serve it on a plate and apparently you score 7. God’s own country.
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Bromsgrove Senior School staff are making even bigger strides than my fellow dieter’s tailor. A few are leaving for serious promotions at the end of this year and I offer my congratulations. Two, for example, are off to be house parents at well known boarding schools. Wonderful stuff. Now rumour (see below) can turn this triumph of professional development into something very different. The fact is, last year only one member of staff left the Senior School and I put that statistic on the School Risk Assessment. Seriously. I’m thrilled people like it here so much, but if schools do not aereate themselves, they become clogged and stodgily complacent. If every full time member of staff stayed ten years (which is a long time), we should have eleven teachers leaving each year from Senior School. So even a leave of fifteen, for example, would be perfectly normal for most schools this size. Some people here get shocked when it’s five. Chill. Every school has a place for Mr. Chips, but we need a fair few Fries-To-Go as well. Good luck to them.
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Rumour is a school’s anti-matter. Allow me to paraphrase and grammatically improve Wikipedia: The observable universe is apparently almost entirely matter, but do other places exist that are almost entirely antimatter instead, and what might be possible if antimatter could be harnessed? This week I have been told I have a new dog (I don’t). I have moved away from the School house (I haven’t). I am better (What? Spooky!). Anyway, I’ve decided it might be fun to spread a few stories myself to see if they get a run in classroom and car park. Incy wincy fibs made up by me for subsequent embellishment. A prize for any angry person who reports one of my own stories back to me as truth, and extra champers to anybody whose variant is barely recognizable from my original hare. Now then, did you hear that this year’s Commemoration Day will be sponsored by Tescos? No? Well apparently ...............
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Elsewhere on this website I have written a brief tribute to Roundy Rudell who died suddenly last week. Whether you knew Roundy or not, I hope you will find a minute to read it. He was an extraordinary man who gave much to this School and believed passionately in its young people. We will miss him.
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Site manager Jim is in charge of the sports section of the new build, and whenever academic staff walk round the new arena and satellite buildings, he rightly insists we don safety wear. But no safety helmet fits me properly. This is because I have a huge brain. (Well, that’s my take. Mrs. Edwards says my cranial issues arise from the fact that I am the only post-Neanderthal hominid not to have evolved away my occipital bun). Jim’s attempts to force the safety helmet down over my prodigious bonce saw a gleeful management team rejoicing rather too easily in my humiliation. Whereas the real builders look mean and manly in their rugged safety gear, I feel like a flour baby with a lego hat.
