One thing always leads to another on the intertubes and this particular ravel started with my friend David Nice. David is a cultural critic and musicologist who maintains a wonderful blog – I’ll Think of Something Later – where he writes about music and travel and culture and all the life in between. In response to my last post he…
You too! can be a New Woman. Who knew it was this easy? And just think of the savings on the tonic and limes. Daily Herald Adelaide. 27th October 1921 BDC gin pills tin label. Made by the National Drug & Chemical Co. Ltd of Canada. Bilingual instruction on the bottom of the tin. (Thank goodness for that!)
Before the Nazis took power in 1933 Jeanne Mammen earned her living as a commercial artist, selling her work to film producers, fashion magazines and satirical journals. Her work portrayed the vibrant life of the big city. She chronicled the nightlife of Weimar Berlin capturing scenes from bohemian dives and proletarian bars to elegant cabarets and exclusive Lesbian clubs. This…
From George Orwell at the Café Royal : The coming of the Hitler regime in 1933 had a chilling effect on all the arts. Many writers and artists left, if they could, fleeing for their lives. Those who remained – and who were not Jewish – had to fit into the enforced Nazi orthodoxy if they wished to be published…
This is a follow-up to The Queen of Mean and one of a series about Headlands Grammar School and what I remember and learned in my seven year sentence. By the time I got to the sixth form I had learned to keep below Miss Jacob’s radar and anyway she had younger fish to fry. Hundreds of them – all…
When Senior Mistress Miss A. Jacob retired from Headlands School Mr.Magson had this to say in the school magazine: Two comments about that: While I don’t doubt the truth of Magson’s words, I didn’t know then, and don’t know now, any student who had a good word to say about Miss Jacob. There’s a little collection of some of the…
I’ve long thought that the word retreat should not be linked with strategic planning. It’s a bit of a misnomer for what should be a process of setting direction forward. There’s nothing wrong with “retreats” and often they are essential components – creating the thinking space for assessment and reflection. That kind of indwelling can contribute to the careful assessment…
Everyone who ever had Merv Comrie as a teacher at Headlands has a story to tell. Merv left an indelible impression on all those he taught. My own favorite moment came as he was taking class 4M through Macbeth explaining everything line by line – that time-honored English teacher way of ensuring students will not get any pleasure from Shakespeare.…
Before I learned to be afraid of Miss Jacob I was terrified by Miss Almond. First week, first form at Headlands. First history class. Miss Almond, in her academic gown presiding. She was one of those teachers who could see round corners and knew what you were up to even though she was busy writing on the big roller board…
The schools we attend and work in help shape the people we become. Seven of my sixty plus years in school were spent here – at Headlands Grammar School, Swindon. It is long gone and the site redeveloped. When people go into education as a career they sometimes seek to replicate the good experiences of their own schooling. Others dedicate…
Always fun to find half-remembered books. One bonus of this decluttering lark is that you find so many of them. What to do? Choices: Keep: The book has an enduring value. While there is no more room you just have to hold on to this one. It’s either irreplaceable or just a core component of your identity and emotional furniture. …
These days find me busy clearing and chucking, sorting and sifting, storing and saving. Three truck loads of stuff cleared by the junk removers, hundreds of books donated to the Poughkeepsie Library and wardrobes full of clothing to the Salvation Army. And still there’s more. As I clear out the clutter and crap and treasure and trove of decades, I…
A recent visit to Montreal found us at the MAC Musée d’Art Contemporain de Montréal Fortified with coffee and breakfast treats at Olive et Gourmando on Rue St. Paul, we walked up Rue Saint-Pierre and onto Rue de Bleury to Rue Sainte-Catherine. We managed to miss the entrance – even though it was right in front of us – but nonetheless…
It’s a late afternoon on a winter Saturday of my childhood. And that means the big Ferguson radio – the one that had the exotic place names on the dial – Hilversum, Strasbourg, Luxembourg, Limoges, Toulouse – is warmed up. The fire is lit, the coal scuttle is full and the kettle is on. And my father – who was…
When a re-wired, pack-rat educator takes a deep dive in the basement there’s no telling what she will find in those decades worth of edutrivia. (This post by the way is Part Three of “My Life with the Spirit People”. Part One is here. You may ask: “Where is Part Two?” Well – I haven’t written it yet.) Take this…