Envisioning Utopia

I’m sorry I don’t speak binary!

envisioningutopia — Sun, 27 May 2012 15:31:56 +0000

Okay, what is it with electronic equipment, that when you don’t really use it, it works fine, but when faced with a real emergency, it packs up. For the first time for months, I decided to invite some friends round for a ‘Fright Night’ film session. 3 days beforehand the DVD packs up. I mentioned it to the technical expert in our family and he showed no interest whatsoever.
‘Okay, if you won’t do anything about it. I will.’
‘No, no, no.’ he replied shaking in fear. Oh what power there is in being completely incompetent. You see he knows what will happen if he lets me loose in an electronic store like Maplin.
Yes I am that irritating person who goes in to the shop with what I want written on a piece of paper and wordlessly hand it to the shop assistant. I cannot speak in code. I prefer to use words. I do not like interacting with people whose idea of an intimate conversation is using e mail. One of most memorable interactions with a person in an electronic store, (excuse the stereotype but he did stink of body odour) was when I went in with said piece of paper. Hoping for no interaction at all.
‘Do you want a male or female?’ He asked.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Do you want a male or female one of these?’
I laughed because I thought he was joking. I really didn’t know that these techie types actually sex electronic equipment. I suppose it makes them feel as though they have some chance with the opposite sex (sorry that was uncalled for and bitchy). Anyhow, I didn’t know there were 2 sexes of these things.
‘I’ll have a male and a female. Then I won’t need to buy any more cos they’ll have babies.’
I could tell he wasn’t impressed.
Another time I had to take into account whether what I was buying was compatible with our computer. I said
‘ubuntu’ to the man, because that is what my husband told me to say. There was a lot of excited chatter amongst the techies. They obviously thought I knew what I was talking about.
‘Please’ I begged ‘I don’t know what your saying I just want the equipment that is compatible. I really don’t care how it works, so long as it does.’
They all scowled and I felt guilty for not sharing in their technical enthusiasm.
I have them well trained now. They take my paper. If they have questions I call my husband and they speak to him and they leave me alone. Needless to say the DVD had been replaced. I’m just hoping for the same success with the printer.

Pure dedication or just plain stupid? The Olympic Snail

envisioningutopia — Thu, 24 May 2012 16:58:39 +0000

What on earth? I hear you cry- or maybe you don’t really give a toss, but the attached photo is a picture of a snail on the window. So what? So the window is 3 floors up! And my otherwise occupied brain found itself being diverted away from students’ exams and the impending doom of OFSTED on to how on earth a snail got there and why. Well ‘why?’ in fact didn’t take very long for me to ponder, as I don’t think that snails think about things as deeply as humans, so there doesn’t need to be a why. Unless it was a record-breaking attempt or he just decided to do it for a bet. But the how has kept my singular brain cell occupied for some time. He could have slimed up the wall, but it seems such a stupid thing to do in the searing heat, with no prospect of food or water. Then we get into the whole area of the intellectual capacity of a snail and whether it thinks of such things as it climbs up the wall.
Andrew, who inadvertently got dragged into my ponderings, against his will, suggested that a bird might have dropped it. I suppose it’s a possibility, but think about it (I’m sad to say that I have). As it tumbled through the air it would somehow have to manoeuvre itself close to the window and stick itself on to it at some considerable speed.
Then I have the quandry of whether I should intervene. Play God as it were. Should I unstick it, at risk of killing it and take it to someone else’s garden to eat all the vegetables? (It’s certainly not going to roam free in mine) or do I respect its somewhat misguided decisions and its almost inevitable death?
In my musings I pointed it out to Tom. ‘Look Tom there’s a snail on your window.’
‘Yeah I know’ he said
‘Don’t you wonder about how it got there?’
‘No not really.’
Oh the disinterest of youth!

My Sanity

envisioningutopia — Wed, 23 May 2012 21:26:37 +0000

Walking or running, I know within minutes I will feel fine. The last walk that I did was in the Peak District, through Macclesfield Forest and up Shutlingsloe. It’s a beautiful and varied walk. You come across small tracks climbing steadily to a tiny village and then climb further to some woods. The woods are striking and foreboding and take you down to some very unpicturesque reservoirs. Despite this, and the walking book we were using mentioning paths that did not exist, it was a nice walk. If you want solitude, this is a not a good walk for it. There was a pilgrimage of walkers going up Shutlingsloe. I also met and got talking to an ex fell runner, who made me look extremely unfit, by running up the steepest edge. I was out of breath up the easy bit. (Note to self if there is another chance, I’ll come back as a fell runner).
Now it’s back to insanity. There are big changes at work and with OFSTED back for a visit, it can only get worse. So I’m running everywhere in a desperate bid to stay sane.

The pinnacle of my career?

envisioningutopia — Sat, 19 May 2012 19:24:59 +0000

Part of the GCSE Sociology exam requirement is for the students to write a 12 mark answer, which draws upon their knowledge of a unit of Sociology that we have covered. Like any self-respecting teacher, I have been trying to instil the importance of answering this well to my students. Up until this day the more positive comments that I have received are
‘This is boring’, ‘I don’t know anything.’ ‘I hate writing.’
In desparation I appealed to the scholar within them. ‘Listen, we should be living Sociology, breathing it. To be honest it needs to be life-changing or the education secretary will kill me.’ This seemed to appeal to them. (my impending death, not the breathing Sociology) This was my last attempt at teaching the 12 marker. I was prepared to feel suicidal despair.
I wrote on the board ‘Discuss whether females are more likely to commit crime than males.’ and got prepared to cry. I instructed them to get into pairs and write down any ideas that they had, then called on each pair to give me what they had.
‘Well,’ said one ‘ I think that I would look at it from a Feminist perspective.’ and she went explaining why.
‘How about the new right? actually the functionalist approach would be better.’ chipped in another. I pinched myself. Surely I was dreaming? One lad, who I had seriously been suspecting of being asleep came up with an amazing contribution and so it went on.
To be honest, by the end I was gobsmacked. I looked at the answer that I had, which was what the exam board would look for. They had surpassed all expectations.
‘You lot are wonderful’ I said. I felt quite emotional. They just looked embarassed. Yes I rode on a wave of pride for a full 3 minutes. As I did so I handed out the next activity.
‘Inequality? What’s that all about then.’ commented one.
‘Have we done this?’ added another.
So back down to earth I crashed. Oh well.

Grrrrrrrr!!!!

envisioningutopia — Sat, 19 May 2012 19:01:06 +0000

I am a bit strange in that I like to be in control of my finances. When I want to buy something I weigh up if I need it and how much it is. So it really annoys me when I get a text from Traffic TV welcoming me to my 30 day trial of their app and then informing that if I then don’t want to be charged then I need to unsubscribe. I didn’t want to be subscribed in the first place. Apparently it was simple all I had to do was go on the app and unsubscribe. However it wouldn’t let me! Not being a technical genius I got Andy to have a look and while he fiddled about I went on the internet to get rid of it from my Orange account. Guess what? I couldn’t do that either. Andy went on line to find that there were a number of incredibly pissed off Orange customers who were going through the same thing. The only way was to phone them. So after 15 yes 15 minutes of waiting for my phone to be answered I got through. By this time the red veil of anger had descended and I was beyond angry. The women (poor women) on the end of the phone took me through security and then made a suggestion about a service I might like. At which point I totally lost it.
‘I don’t want to know, I just want to be unsubscribed from Traffic TV.’
She then preceded to tell me that I could do it from the app. At which point I exploded and explained that as far as I was concerned it was a way of getting money out of Orange customers and that there were a lot of people on the internet who were about as irate as I was. She went very quiet and said she would sort it. I was on hold for 10 minutes. I was about to give up when she came back saying that it was sorted. And I did apologise to her for losing my temper. I do realise it is not her fault, but I find it unbelievable that Orange have done this and I would seriously reconsider giving them my custom again. All was well for 24 hours and then I received a letter from Santander, needless to say they are next in the firing line. This time I’ll be sending a letter.

My dirty weekend (literally)

envisioningutopia — Wed, 16 May 2012 21:08:10 +0000

Grandma had whisked off the kids for the weekend which meant Andy and I could escape to the Peak District. A habit we have got into over the last few years. We were staying at the Peak Weaver’s Hotel in Leek. Which is a gorgeous family-run hotel and they are always very welcoming. Also it is a stone’s throw from the Roaches, a large rocky area that looks like it has been dropped by a giant in the middle of the Peak District. It is one of my favourite walks because of a chasm it has and also the ludicrous number of cuckoos that seem to live there. This year however, we were going to do some different walks. Our sights were set on a 10 mile walk from Eyham. Eyham is a plague town. It has some plague cottages, where you can see plaques on the walls which tell you how many people lived in each cottage and when the plague finally finished them off. Nearby is a church yard, with a bizarre gravestone to an English Cricketer. It also has a very moving gravestone to two daughters who were killed a couple of years ago in a car crash. I know this because the last time I went there, I got talking to the youngest daughter’s friend (only 16) who told me all about them and the family.

So we trudged out of the town and off into the wilds of the peaks. Not really, we were squishing across cow fields mostly. There were gliders overhead and one looked like it had a person suspended from it! I suppose it takes all sorts to make the world. At one point we had to cross a style which was dedicated to a woman. I photographed the dedication.
It made me laugh. We only got lost twice and not for long. The walk was lovely and varied though not very hilly. We ended up down by a brook and then trudged across a heath, when it hailed for a bit. We ended up coming over a ridge and looking down on the town. We could even see the car in the car park (always reassuring to know that it hasn’t been stolen!)

Love them or hate them you wouldn’t want to eat them!

envisioningutopia — Sun, 13 May 2012 16:24:59 +0000

They sound like something you ought to eat with a bowl of ice cream and sprinkles, but the jelly fish is not very popular with me. My hate hate relationship with them started two years ago when I was on holiday just outside of the beautiful city of Venice. Like all the holiday makers about me, I was swimming along enjoying myself, when I saw what looked like a white film in the water, just ahead of me. The next thing, there was a really intense pain on the front of my shoulder. I waded out the water to see a livid red mark there. Then it struck me that I had just had an encounter with a jelly fish. I told Andy and the boys and they cheerily laughed.
‘But aren’t they poisonous? I might die.’
‘We’ll give it 10 minutes’ giggled Andrew. He was promptly hit with a bucket.
Ten minutes later I was not dead and though still painful, the pain had subsided. I decided to venture back in, but from another part of the beach, where loads of people were swimming (safety in numbers and all that.) The **** thing got me again. This time on the foot. What was worse was that Tom saw it and followed it and it swam away from him!
It took me a couple of days before I ventured in again. Tom and I were playing a diving game, when I saw the critter heading towards me. I confess to failings in my maternal instinct at this point as I yelled ‘jellyfish’ and threw Tom between me and the blighter. It swam round him and headed for me. (at this point I would like to add it’s quite hard to out run (swim) a jelly fish. Though I did. It was like something out of Jaws. It was a personal vendetta, as well as a big source of amusement to my family. Alex did offer at each stage to pee on me to get rid of the pain. Personally, I don’t trust his aim.
We decided not to go back to Italy. Our next holiday was in Cirali, Turkey. Where the water is warm and there are no unfriendly, nasty creatures. Or so I thought. My nemesis awaited me. He still owed me for escaping his clutches the last time. Three stings – surely he’d be satisfied with that!

you’re not helping mum

envisioningutopia — Tue, 08 May 2012 20:12:34 +0000

Sometimes it’s not helpful having a mum as a Psychologist. I feel for my children. If it makes them feel any better it was worse having a vet for a mum. If we were ill, she would say.
‘Now what would I do if you were a dog.’ To be honest, I had seen what she had to do to some dogs and I’m sure that I would have been put into care if she had tried it on me. If we were very ill, she’d always say
‘If you were a dog…..’
‘You’d put us down.’ We would chorus, then cough, splutter and choke.
It was only recently that it struck me how bizarre my childhood must seem to an outsider. Somehow in one Psychology class we got on to the subject of childhood experiences. (It was relevant). I told them how I remembered assisting my mum in the veterinary surgery. When I was seven, I used to hold the old animals, whilst she put them down. There was silence in the class.
‘You were seven?’
It never struck me as strange at all. Neither did it my mum, until I turned to her one day and accused her of killing a dog. She said that I seemed upset and then realised that it was perfectly natural for me to be so.
As a result I am aware of how I am with my children, though sometimes I get it horribly wrong.
The other week Thomas was talking about jet lag, as we were being tested by Alex as to the capital of Mauritius and countries that I had never heard of.
‘I wonder why jet lag happens.’ He said.
Off I went into Psychology mode.
‘Well it’s because your exogenous zeitgebers are not in synch with your endogenous pacemakers.’ I was about to enlighten them all about the role of the suprachiasmatic nucleus, when I noticed my audience did not look particularly interested, or impressed.
A few days later Thomas went into hormonal teenager mode. Apparently life wasn’t fair. He hated it. He wished he had never been born and it was all my fault. Eventually I narrowed it down to the fact that he had put his password into the computer and it hadn’t worked. A great example of catastrophising an event. Off I went into cognitive Psychology mode, wondering where his irrational thought patterns had come from. I would need to challenge them and then replace them with more logical thought processes. I could see Thomas looking at me as though I was mad. At least it took his mind the password problem.

It’s amazing what you can make out of a cereal packet!

envisioningutopia — Mon, 07 May 2012 15:07:13 +0000

So off I go back to the physio for an assessment of what I am doing with my foot. Apparently I’m not walking on it (in the way they define walking) I stand barefoot, with my trousers rolled up, as the Physio puts loads of blue dots all over them with a pen. I’m assuming this is not purely for his entertainment. Then he gets out a weird instrument, like something from a Maths class and informs me that my left foot is two time worse than my right foot. Bad left foot!
‘You need to try some temporary insoles and see if they work.’
To my surprise, he doesn’t get a box out of the cupboard labelled ‘Temporary insoles for people with bad left feet.’ Instead he takes out a box and rips a piece off of it.
‘Put your foot on here.’ I place my foot on the card and he draws round it. Interesting twist. It was something like Blue Peter, except he didn’t have one that he had made earlier and to my disappointment he didn’t have double-sided sticky tape. Next he stuck some foam to the card and secured it in place with a load of surgical tape. Ta Da! a make it yourself insole. I was pretty impressed.
So no more expensive equipment for the NHS. Just send your empty cereal packets to the Physios. The British debt will be cancelled in no time!

What do you mean you’ve lost the entire troop!

envisioningutopia — Thu, 03 May 2012 21:08:02 +0000

It was a long evening, when I went to quickly pick my son up from cadets. As I arrived at the cadet hut, I noticed that there was something missing – Cadets! The troop leader and his assistant were standing outside by their cars. The cadets had been dropped off in another part of the town, earlier that evening. Armed with compasses and OS maps they were navigating their way (in small groups) across town to the cadet hut. In theory.
‘What’s going on?’
‘We’ve lost them.’ said the assistant.
‘Lost them? How can you lose an entire troop?’
‘Well they’re off road and we’re in cars.’
‘Mmmm so you’re saying there are no adults with them, keeping an eyes on them?’
‘No’ piped up the troop leader irritably ‘ But we have mobile phone contact with each group.’
‘Oh so you do know where they are?’
‘Kind of.’
Confused? I was. What he meant was that he could ask the lads where they were. The problem was that they didn’t know! Fifteen minutes later, the first group arrived. Thomas wasn’t amongst them. He sent me a text to say he was going to be late, (then helpfully turned off his phone) It’s about now I am wishing that I hadn’t lectured him on not wasting battery power. Ten minutes later a number of groups come in. No Thomas! It is now around forty minutes after he was due and it is beginning to get dark. Not wanting to cause a fuss that my child’s group is still missing (presumed dead or badly beaten up by the local youths) I ask if there is a plan of action e.g. phoning them and asking for a street name. This suggestion is taken up.
‘The problem is that they keep moving’ said the assistant.
‘perhaps ask them to keep still?’ I suggested.
Then they didn’t have a road map – luckily someone had a sat nav. So off they went to collect the group by car. Whilst I sat willing Thomas not to refuse taking a lift from the stranger I had just sent to pick him up. It seemed like an eternity until they eventually arrived.
Later we looked at where he had been. He basically had to walk from west to east for 3 miles. What his group had done had walked west to east for 2.5 miles then walked east to west for two miles and then 3 miles north. All the leader could say was
‘I think they might need more practice with compasses!’ You think!