I have decided to become unfathomably gorgeous for Commemoration Day.
“Come, come, Headmaster”, I hear you say; “how can one improve on perfection?” And I thank you for that. But maybe – just maybe - I’m a teeny bit overweight. By three stone, say. Anyway, after an abortive first diet over Christmas (I know, I know..), I am now in a weight losing competition with both fellow blimps and more streamlined models who erroneously think they are tubsters. I have already told Senior Staff to strike me if they see me eating desserts. My ribs sting. But at least the lady who hit me found my ribs. My competitors have set themselves ambitious target weights. As for me ... I’ll just be happy if well meaning people stop rolling me back into the sea when I’m lying on the beach.
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Terms have rhythms, and the Royal Wedding is not the only new syncopation. The International Baccalaureate examinations are underway. We are not used to the public examination season beginning so early. Indeed, results will be out and university destinations known just after Commemoration. So, the Senior School is not going through the late spring phoney war period to which we have been accustomed. It is now and it is for real. We wish all our IB candidates every success.
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Readers may recall that as we broke up for Easter I was heading off to London for the launch of Lord (Digby) Jones’ new book: “Fixing Britain.” I’m not in the business of plugging all Old Bromsgrovian’s books, but think of this volume as the antithesis to Princess Beatrice’s hat. (I initially thought –honestly - that some of the Abbey’s masonry had fallen on poor Princess Beatrice’s head and that she was stoically soldering on). Whether you agree with Digby on every issue or not, this hugely entertaining trip round the bay is paradoxically a ludicrously sane account of national problems and solutions in Asia’s century. The chapter on UK education is searing. And as far as I’m concerned, anybody calmly advocating policy delivery via a technocracy rather than leaving it to the vicissitudes of career politicians deserves to be heard. Anti-establishment and highly recommended.
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I went and got some Factor 50 suncream in my left eye over the holidays. Sadly this happened just as the doorbell rang. I don’t know if any of you have suffered from directional issues when squirting the Factor 50, but I promise you, Hieronymous Bosch could not have dreamt up the torment I was going through as I answered the door to a stranger. I started yelling and clutching my face as she said “Hello.” Blistering agony then compelled me to bang my head against the porch and howl. For my finale, I staggered into the drive groaning and flailing like Dr. Jekyll after a drink. She ran off. Those of you plagued by cold callers, take note.
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While the holiday saw mighty and very visible progress in the multi million pound developments in the Senior School, we should recall a quieter moment that took place over the weekend in the Prep School. The untimely death of John Ormerod, who as Headmaster led the Prep School into the twenty-first century, was a sadness to all who knew him. I did not know John, but was moved by Saturday’s ceremony attended by his wife Jane and family. The new Prep School cricket pavilion will be known as the Ormerod Pavilion. John apparently loved cricket beyond measure and even –according to Jane - banned football in summer break times, insisting the boys practised their batting and bowling instead. The building will have a special place in many hearts.
