• About

Candia Comes Clean

~ Candid cultural comments from the Isles of Wonder

Tag Archives: flugelhorn

A Man about a Dog

13 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Candia in Education, Family, Humour, Sculpture, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

4x4, Andy Murray, Border Terrier, Fatted Calf, flugelhorn, Philippe Johnson, Pritt stick, St Birinus

 An old one for Andy, the Border Terrier fans.  Incidentally, named

after Andy Murray.

MISSING!

REWARD FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO RETURN OF:

ANDY

Much beloved and sorely missed pet of the Willoughby family,

Willoughby House,

1 North Street,

Suttonford.

Tel: Suttonford 753799

starry-eyed@suttonworld.co.uk

A male, castrated Border Terrier, micro-chipped.  Friendly, slight

bladder problem, requires expensive medication.

Last seen Sunday, 16th January, 2013 in walled rear garden of above

address.

Brassie was just about to jump into her 4×4 to race down to St

Birinus Middle with her son’s flugelhorn, which he’d forgotten to

take with him that morning, when she noticed a puddle in the drive

and a rolled up piece of paper which was sticking out of her

letterbox.

She unrolled the scroll and read the following:

Hey, missus, have your dog back.  He just peed all over the van and

barked non-stop.  He’s a ***liability.

Look round the back garden.  He’s tied up to that funny metal thing

in the middle of the lawn.

Don’t try to fingerprint this as we always wear gloves.

Brassie was annoyed before the relief kicked in.  That metal thing

was a genuine Philippe Johnson sculpture that they had sourced from

his studio in Sussex!

Outdoor Sculpture Sculptures - Bell on Wheels by Chip VanderWier

But, Andy, darling!

There he was, looking none the worse for wear and licking her hands

continually while she struggled to unknot the hairy string which

bound him to the artwork.

She ran to the get the dog bowl at the back door which sported the

slogan:  Chien en Psychanalyse.  Clearly he was very thirsty.

Oh the relief!  She picked him up and placed him in the back of the

4×4 and put the dog guard in place.  She wasn’t about to let him out

of her sight.  The fatted calf would be slain this evening.  This dog of

theirs that was lost had now been found!

She would ask the school receptionist to put a note in Mr Milford-

Haven’s pigeon-hole, so that he could tell the boys the good news.

Then she would text Cosmo at work and would call in at the police

station on the way back home to report Andy’s return to the nice

constable.  She had better remove all those notices on High Street

and environs.  Thankfully they had saved on a reward.

Half way down to school, she remembered that she had left the

overdue Latin prep on the hall table.  Drat!  It had taken her an hour

last night.

Flugel-lhside-large.jpg

Leaving the flugelhorn in Reception, where it took up an inordinate

amount of room and caused Mr Snodbury to trip over it when he

came in to snaffle a few too many red pens and a Pritt-stick for his

personal use-  (to secure an unfranked Xmas card stamp that he

had carefully steamed off, I believe, but no matter..)- Brassie left a

note for the twins’ form master which concluded with the following:

Sorry about the prep, sed Mihi ignosce, cum homine de cane debeo

congredi , which, I believe, could be translated thus:

Excuse me, but I’ve got to see a man about a dog.

 

 

 

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Basic/Better/ Best

12 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by Candia in Celebrities, Education, Family, History, Humour, Music, Philosophy, Religion, Sculpture, Social Comment, Suttonford, television, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Antiques Roadshow, Basic/ Better/ Best, Blackberry, Border Terrier, breach of promise, Easter Island, Fiona Bruce, Flog-It!, flugelhorn, marimba, Miller Guides, Moai, Moorcroft, Polynesian figure, Quorn, Radio 4, Rocky Road, Sotheby's, Tesco, The Moral Maze

Some archival material which, I think, deserves a second airing!

ARtitle.jpg

There was an amateur Antiques Roadshow in Suttonford’s Community Centre on Saturday afternoon, on behalf of the charity, Curs in Crisis.  The organisers had asked local auctioneer, Hubert Wormhole, to give of his expertise and they charged £5 per valuation.  The queues snaked out into North Street, but thankfully it wasn’t raining.

Ginevra Brewer-Mead had donated a quirky, mystery object as a prize.  It was to raise fifty pence a guess as to its identity and use.  The winner would be allowed to keep it.  It was all good fun.

Ginevra had bought the ugly thing many years before, at a jumble sale.  It usually resided on her mantelpiece and her carer, Magda, had encouraged her to get rid of it, as it freaked her out.  (Magda was becoming more and more proficient in her utilisation of Slanglish.)

People were laughing as they wondered aloud which of their friends and neighbours most resembled the figure with the over-sized head.  Pollux nudged his twin and whispered: Caligula!  They both sniggered, but their mother, Brassica, reproved them and said that it was rude to make comments about their teacher.

Hubert had set up a table with Basic / Better/ Best cardboard signs, which was an idea that he had stolen from the real BBC show.  Three examples of Moorcroft pottery stood behind the labels.

Again, people were invited to pay fifty pence to guess the relative worthiness of the three items and, if they were correct, they were given a delicious cluster of Rocky Road from a Tesco bucket.

Brassica’s twins had been issued with their pocket money that morning, and, miraculously, still had some left.

Castor walked over to the table with the hideous figure and realised that he had seen it before, at Ginevra’s house, when he had been visiting with his mother.  He had been fascinated by it and had looked up similar objects online.  He knew that such figures dated from the Pre-Moai period, when Easter Island had been afforested.  A similar object had sold at Sotheby’s in the eighties for £100,000.

He was hopping up and down with suppressed excitement when he asked the woman on the stall, who happened to be Sonia, if he could borrow a pen.

Then he concealed his writing with his arm crooked, as he was wont to do in school tests, so that John, his partner on the double desk, would not copy his answers.  He wrote very carefully:

Rair deety Ester Iland

He appended his father’s mobile number.  Thankfully he was more numerate than literate, so there was a chance of the adjudicator being able to contact him.

He posted his entry in the cardboard box.  Sonia said, I think you might be a lucky boy.

Pollux usually did the Arts subject preps and he did the Maths and Science ones.  Between themselves, they did quite well.  However, on this occasion, he did not collaborate with his twin, nor did he inform him of his entry.

English: An example of a Moorcroft ginger jar,...

Some people were becoming annoyed as they had guessed the Moorcroft conundrum correctly, owing to an over-exposure of such ceramic art on Flog-It!  They thought that they should have won the best object of the three, but even the Rocky Road was unavailable, as it had been consumed by little boys with light fingers and sweet tooths, no, teeth.  And, in particular, by twins who had been feeding their Border Terrier who lay under the table, with the chocolate and marshmallow moreish morsels.

These small-minded adults had paid and guessed in vain and they were very disgruntled and said that charities should put humans before canines. They expressed other sentiments in terms which little boys should not have overheard.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Brassie was in her kitchen/diner, cooking supper and the twins had been finishing their flugelhorn and marimba practice next door.  She called them to the table.

But, mum, we’re not hungry, they complained.

That’s because you stuffed yourselves with Rocky Road, she lectured.  You know I don’t allow sugar treats and now you can see why.  All this lovely wholesome Quorn is going to go to waste.

The twins simultaneously eyed their Border.   They felt sure that he would oblige in any hoovering up operation to do with leftovers, even though he had consumed a fair amount of the sweet clusters himself.

Rocky Road

Darling!  She shouted up the garden in the direction of the observatory.  Supper’s ready.

Cosmo was already coming down the path, fiddling with his Blackberry.

Castor, he said, it’s Mr Wormhole from the roadshow this afternoon.  He says there has been a terrible mistake.

I know, dad.  They didn’t pick up on the Polynesian figure.

What? said Brassie. (The phone always rang at mealtimes).  I’ll take it.   She held the mobile up to her ear with one hand while she stirred the unappetising looking Quorn mish-mash.  Easter Island?  Rare?  Pre-Moy, what?

A similar figure went for an absolute fortune at a London sale of Tribal Art in the Seventies, said Hubert, suddenly very authoritative.  Naturally, Mrs Brewer-Mead had no idea what she had donated.  Even I wasn’t certain until I went home and referred to my Miller Guides.

But Castor guessed correctly, she insisted, amazed at her son’s vast store of knowledge filched from http://www.geekologie.com etc.

What’s all this about? asked Cosmo, confused as ever.

He says that Castor can’t have his prize as he spelled the answer incorrectly.  He’s offering him the best piece of Moorcroft instead, Brassie stage-whispered, holding her hand over the Blackberry.

We’ll see about that, said Cosmo masterfully.  He won it fairly and squarely, as far as I can make out.

No, they’ve had a lawyer on to it already and Ginevra seems to be within her rights to withdraw the prize and to offer a substitute.  Brassie was frantically trying to remember where she had seen the advertisement for No Win/ No Fee legal services. Mr Wormhole thinks that Mrs Brewer-Mead, I mean Ginevra, has already appropriated it, as it was not on the table at the end of the afternoon.

Mr Wormhole rang off, saying that they could discuss things further on Monday.

Now do you see the importance of spelling, you careless boy? snapped Brassie.

Castor’s lip trembled, but he rallied: My teacher says that you can still get an A* so long as she and the examiner people can make out what it is you are trying to say.

Well, now you know that that is a load of rubbish in the real world, stressed Brassie.  I’ll have to have a word with Ginevra on Monday about the EU and Children’s Rights and breach of promise.

Pollux tried to draw the blame onto himself-and succeeded; his father had more experience and kept a low profile.

 I’d have known how to spell the answer, he piped up.

Oh, shut up, Smart-Alec, they all said.

Pollux crept over to the Border’s basket to stroke his little, furry friend and as a tear plopped onto the dog’s wiry head, it looked up quizzically, and, as it did so, it gagged.

Give! ordered Pollux.

After a tussle, he forced open its jaws and a carved splinter of something very Moai-like shot out across the kitchen flagstones.

Mum! he screamed.

Andy, the Border, had evidently carried the figure home in his mouth and had been worrying at it throughout their music practice and Brassie’s meal preparation.

They all agreed to say nothing and to accept the Moorcroft gracefully.  However, Brassie could feel the discomfort on the back burners of her conscience.  She felt that it was the kind of dilemma that The Moral Maze would like to have grappled with on Radio 4 and she felt that they would not emerge smelling of roses.  She wished that Castor had never seen the wretched thing.  It must have emitted some evil power, as she could see how destructive its forces would have been in her family and community.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Think of all the Dewlap Gins I could have bought, said Ginevra, wistfully.

It freaked me out, replied Magda, her carer.  You only lost 20 pence effectively.  But you still have your friends.

Let’s drink to that, agreed Ginevra.  Bottoms up!

Gin and French

And Magda understood the expression, as her English and Slanglish was coming on.

Prost!

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

End of Term Reports

12 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by Candia in Education, Family, Humour, Literature, Music, Politics, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Andrex, Beach Boys, flugelhorn, George Formby, Hark! the Herald Angels Sing, Harriet Harman, Hawaiian shirt, Orwell, PHSE, St Birinus, The Calypso Carol

It’s that time of year again, when anxious Suttonford parents await brown

envelopes with the Xmas Letter from the Head, next year’s Calendar of School

Events AND the booklet of reports which, they hope, will validate the great

expense that they have poured into their children’s education and which will

somehow prove that a silk purse can be made out of a sow’s ear, if sufficient

funds have been cast in the right direction.  Bread has been cast on waters

which MIGHT return after many days.

It all depends, of course, on whether the precocious pupil remembers to

deliver the parentally-addressed missive from their backpack, so that an

inspection can be made regarding progress, or the lack thereof.

St Birinus Middle School                    December 2012

William Brewer-Mead (Bill)

Another hyperactive, but productive term for Bill.  His Attention Deficit

Disorder could be seen to influence his pick n’ mix engagement with

the broader curriculum.

His Geography project on sustainability lacked focus, but evidenced

the predilections of a polymath.  (Renaissance man was ever thus!)

If he could persuade himself of the value of physical stillness, he would

perform more consistently and with less impact on his peers.

Nevertheless, what was I saying?  Oh dear, I seem to forget.  Forgive

me.  It’s been a lengthy term.

A*

N. Milford-Haven.

English: Harriet Harman, British solicitor and...

Ferdinand Brewer-Mead  (Ferdy)

Ferdy’s PHSE essay: Ginger and Proud of It!  gave the class much to consider

regarding the school yard persecution of minorities.  His linguistic points on

gender difference: foxy lady (positive); ginger minger (pejorative) were

insightful and far-reaching. Cross-cultural relevance, an important assessment

objective, was achieved in the apposite integration of the Welsh proverb: os

bydd goch, fe fydd gythreulig.  (We will take his word on the translation.)

Political comment was pertinent regarding Harriet Harman’s cruel comments

regarding rodents.  Are rats our brothers? Orwell would have been proud of

him.

1st for Science-well done! A*

N. M-H (PHSE Dept.)

A photo showing head and shoulders of a middle-aged man with a slim moustache.

 

John Boothroyd-Smythe

John’s George Formby impersonation at the House Evening in November

was an example of ukulele playing at its finest.  Some of the lyrics were

somewhat infused with innuendo which may have been considered

unsuitable for some of the Juniors in the audience, as one or two irate,

though perhaps narrow-minded, parents were prompt to point out.

John shines in solo work, as his 25% extra time allowance can detract

from the musical experience of other members of the school orchestra.

Science: 3rd.  An admirable effort and a foundation which he can build

on as he contemplates future public examinations.

A*

N. M-H (Form teacher)

Castor and Pollux Willoughby- Dual report                    Dec. 2012

Always adept at blowing his own trumpet, Castor’s flugelhorn fluctuations

added a triumphalist tone to the descant of Hark! the Herald Angels Sing

at the Carols n’ Collection for this term’s chosen charity: Curs In Crisis, outside

B&Q.  He coped remarkably well when an inebriated member of the public

inconsiderately rammed a 2x roll packet of Andrex into his instrument.

Twin, Pollux, practised assiduously his marimba accompaniment to The Calypso

Carol for the Junior School Nativity play and showed that his sense of syncopation

and rhytm- (sic) is increasing.

His sporting of a Hawaiian shirt was interpreted as an attempt at ethnic

authenticity, but we beg to remind you that such garments do not conform

to our policies and regulations regarding school uniform.

PS- May I ask where one could buy one?  I am such a fan of The Beach Boys.

Thank You.

A*

Nigel Milford-Haven B.A. Hons., B.Ed.

The Beach Boys, May 29, 2012.jpg

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

For Whom The Bell Tolls 1

02 Monday Sep 2013

Posted by Candia in Education, Humour, Suttonford, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Caligula, deja vu, Evian, flugelhorn, marimba, Piglet, teachers' planner

Never ask for whom the bell tolls, sighed Augustus Snodbury, Senior Master

at St Birinus Middle School.  It tolls for me.

Term had only just begun and the first form time bell had sounded.  Gus

looked at the twenty five fresh-faced, newly kitted-out hopefuls who were

squirming at the tables in front of him.

An overwhelming sensation of deja vu swept over him, like a provincial

tsunami, and he opened his spanking new attendance register to call out the

boys’ names.  Next year registration would be electronic, so thank goodness

he would have departed ere that.

Boothroyd-Smythe, John?

Sir! 

Snod looked over the top of his spectacles.  The little blighters had been

known to call out on each others’ behalf.  Had there been a nuance of

sarcasm in the tone of the response?  Even the process of determination as

to who was actually in attendance could be a minefield.

Really, he had not wanted this particular form, but The Powers That Be had felt

that a known disruptive such as the aforementioned might be better contained

under the eagle eye of an old timer.  Caligula, as the Junior Master was

ironically known, had blanched, or even blenched, as Piglet was wont to do, at

the very thought of being responsible for such a mini-terrorist.

Piglet EHShepard.jpg

Snod scanned the seemingly endless blank pages in his Teachers’ Planner.

Half-term appeared to be galaxies away.  If only he could stagger on till the

end of October.  A nice little flu epidemic which would strike the boarders

would bring relief in the decimation of numbers, or maybe some hero would

organise a short trip, giving the rest of the staff some respite.  But it wouldn’t

be him-ah, no! He had achieved the full set of medals for that activity in his

considerable past.

The timetable was becoming increasingly difficult to deliver, as each pupil

seemed to have a custom-made schedule with certain periods devoted to

individual activities, such as Performance, Learning Support, marimba, or

flugelhorn lessons with those blessed peripatetics, and so on.

This year things were becoming outrageous.  Two boys had chillax sessions.

They had specially assigned ergonomic chairs and precious space had had to

be sacrificed to accommodate their beanbags, which meant that Snod had

been compelled to reduce the circuit of his classroom model railway.  I say his,

as no one was allowed to touch the track, or the carriages, except himself, as

one unfortunate new kid on the block had found out to his eternal detriment in

1986.

But a mini-bar, well-fridge- for emergency rehydration of students before

Assembly!  He really felt that was going too far,  Still, he could put some

bottles of gin and tonic in there for the end of the school day.  There might

not be room for a lime, but no matter.  He could squeeze the bottles of

Evian to the back.

EvianLogo2.svg

Castor and Pollux Willoughby- now they needed to be split up.  They were

of an age when individuation was appropriate to their development.  Besides,

he required a volunteer to partner John Boothroyd-Smythe.  The fact that

neither of the twins wanted to sit beside the thuglet was neither here nor

there.  He didn’t want to sit anywhere near him either.

Ah well, one year to go.  Soon it would be over and his forty years of ticking

off the days, weeks, months and years to retirement was almost at an end.

Drat!  He had entered Boothroyd-Smythe twice- once under B and then again

under S for Smythe.  What was it with these double-barrelled nomenclatures?

They took up so much space and time and made one’s wrist ache when writing

reports.

Now his pristine first page was desecrated and despoiled by the correction.

The bell rang again, shrilly and insistently.  Assembly!

Right!  Line up.  Boothroyd-Smythe, you lead the way!  This was a time-worn

ploy to get the difficult ones onside.  It never worked.

From now on, he determined, I’m going to address him as B-S.  No point in

wasting breath.  Conservation of energy is necessary to tide me through.

Antique Vintage Brass School Dinner Hand Bell with Turned Wooden Handle

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

A Man About A Dog

16 Wednesday Jan 2013

Posted by Candia in Education, Humour, Religion, Suttonford

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Border Terrier, flugelhorn, St Birinus

  MISSING!

REWARD FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO RETURN OF:

ANDY

Much beloved and sorely missed pet of the Willoughby family,

Willoughby House,

1 North Street,

Suttonford.

Tel: Suttonford 753799

starry-eyed@suttonworld.co.uk

A male, castrated Border terrier, micro-chipped.  Friendly, slight

bladder problem, requires expensive medication.

Last seen Sunday, 16th January, 2013 in walled rear garden of above

address.

Brassie was just about to jump into her 4×4 to race down to St

Birinus Middle with her son’s flugelhorn, which he’d forgotten to

take with him that morning, when she noticed a puddle in the drive

and a rolled up piece of paper which was sticking out of her

letterbox.

She unrolled the scroll and read the following:

Hey, missus, have your dog back.  He just peed all over the van and

barked non-stop.  He’s a ***liability.

Look round the back garden.  He’s tied up to that funny metal thing

in the middle of the lawn.

Don’t try to fingerprint this as we always wear gloves.

Brassie was annoyed before the relief kicked in.  That metal thing

was a genuine Philippe Johnson sculpture that they had sourced from

his studio in Sussex!

Outdoor Sculpture Sculptures - Bell on Wheels by Chip VanderWier

But, Andy, darling!

There he was, looking none the worse for wear and licking her hands

continually while she struggled to unknot the hairy string which

bound him to the artwork.

She ran to the get the dog bowl at the back door which sported the

slogan:  Chien en Psychanalyse.  Clearly he was very thirsty.

Oh the relief!  She picked him up and placed him in the back of the

4×4 and put the dog guard in place.  She wasn’t about to let him out

of her sight.  The fatted calf would be slain this evening.  This dog of

theirs that was lost had now been found!

She would ask the school receptionist to put a note in Mr Milford-

Haven’s pigeon-hole, so that he could tell the boys the good news.

Then she would text Cosmo at work and would call in at the police

station on the way back home to report Andy’s return to the nice

constable.  She had better remove all those notices on High Street

and environs.  Thankfully they had saved on a reward.

Half way down to school, she remembered that she had left the

overdue Latin prep on the hall table.  Drat!  It had taken her an hour

last night.

Flugel-lhside-large.jpg

Leaving the flugelhorn in Reception, where it took up an inordinate

amount of room and caused Mr Snodbury to trip over it when he

came in to snaffle a few too many red pens and a Prittstick for his

personal use-  (to secure an unfranked Xmas card stamp that he

had carefully steamed off, I believe, but no matter..)- Brassie left a

note for the twins’ form master which concluded with the following:

Sorry about the prep, sed Mihi ignosce, cum homine de cane debeo

congredi , which, I believe, could be translated thus:

Excuse me, but I’ve got to see a man about a dog.

 

 

 

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

End of Term Reports

06 Thursday Dec 2012

Posted by Candia in Education, Humour, Music, Politics, Religion, Suttonford

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Beach Boys, Birinus, Calypso Carol, Castor and Pollux, flugelhorn, George Formby, Harriet Harman, marimba, Orwell, PHSE, ukelele

It’s that time of year again, when anxious Suttonford parents await brown

envelopes with the Xmas Letter from the Head, next year’s Calendar of School

Events AND the booklet of reports which, they hope, will validate the great

expense that they have poured into their children’s education and which will

somehow prove that a silk purse can be made out of a sow’s ear, if sufficient

funds have been cast in the right direction.  Bread has been cast on waters

which MIGHT return after many days.

It all depends, of course, on whether the precocious pupil remembers to

deliver the parentally-addressed missive from their backpack, so that an

inspection can be made regarding progress, or the lack thereof.

St Birinus Middle School                    December 2012

William Brewer-Mead (Bill)

Another hyperactive, but productive term for Bill.  His Attention Deficit

Disorder could be seen to influence his pick n’ mix engagement with

the broader curriculum.

His Geography project on sustainability lacked focus, but evidenced

the predilections of a polymath.  (Renaissance man was ever thus!)

If he could persuade himself of the value of physical stillness, he would

perform more consistently and with less impact on his peers.

Nevertheless, what was I saying?  Oh dear, I seem to forget.  Forgive

me.  It’s been a lengthy term.

A*

N. Milford-Haven.

English: Harriet Harman, British solicitor and...

Ferdinand Brewer-Mead  (Ferdy)

Ferdy’s PHSE essay: Ginger and Proud of It!  gave the class much to consider

regarding the school yard persecution of minorities.  His linguistic points on

gender difference: foxy lady (positive); ginger minger (pejorative) were

insightful and far-reaching. Cross-cultural relevance, an important assessment

objective, was achieved in the apposite integration of the Welsh proverb: os

bydd goch, fe fydd gythreulig.  (We will take his word on the translation.)

Political comment was pertinent regarding Harriet Harman’s cruel comments

regarding rodents.  Are rats our brothers? Orwell would have been proud of

him.

1st for Science-well done! A*

N. M-H (PHSE Dept.)

A photo showing head and shoulders of a middle-aged man with a slim moustache.

 

John Boothroyd-Smythe

John’s George Formby impersonation at the House Evening in November

was an example of ukulele playing at its finest.  Some of the lyrics were

somewhat infused with innuendo which may have been considered

unsuitable for some of the Juniors in the audience, as one or two irate,

though perhaps narrow-minded, parents were prompt to point out.

John shines in solo work, as his 25% extra time allowance can detract

from the musical experience of other members of the school orchestra.

Science: 3rd.  An admirable effort and a foundation which he can build

on as he contemplates future public examinations.

A*

N. M-H (Form teacher)

Castor and Pollux Willoughby- Dual report                    Dec. 2012

Always adept at blowing his own trumpet, Castor’s flugelhorn fluctuations

added a triumphalist tone to the descant of Hark! the Herald Angels Sing

at the Carols n’ Collection for this term’s chosen charity: Curs In Crisis, outside

B&Q.  He coped remarkably well when an inebriated member of the public

inconsiderately rammed a 2x roll packet of Andrex into his instrument.

Twin, Pollux, practised assiduously his marimba accompaniment to The Calypso

Carol for the Junior School Nativity play and showed that his sense of syncopation

and rhytm- (sic) is increasing.

His sporting of a Hawaiian shirt was interpreted as an attempt at ethnic

authenticity, but we beg to remind you that such garments do not conform

to our policies and regulations regarding school uniform.

PS- May I ask where one could buy one?  I am such a fan of The Beach Boys.

Thank You.

A*

Nigel Milford-Haven B.A. Hons., B.Ed.

The Beach Boys, May 29, 2012.jpg

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Big Bang!

18 Thursday Oct 2012

Posted by Candia in Celebrities, Humour, Social Comment, Summer 2012, Suttonford, television

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Big Bang, Black Hole, Border, bottling, boutique gin, Brassica, craft gin, flugelhorn, FT, Horizon, Kirstie Allsopp, Milford-Haven, Nobel Prize, preserving, Volvo

Brassica was collecting the twins from St Birinus Middle School.  The Autumn term was frantic.  She had so much bottling and preserving to do in the afternoons, even though there was a dearth of some fruits after the rainy early summer.  It was also a real nuisance that EU legislation was making it very difficult to sell her jams and jellies in the table top sales on behalf of the Parents Who Care Association. What was the world coming to when a member of airline security had fairly recently confiscated her damson jelly, with its pretty calligraphy label, which she had specifically made for an ex-pat friend?  She felt as though she was being treated as a terrorist.

But it isn’t liquid- look!  It has set beautifully.

The security frisker had looked as if she should take the argument no further.

Hello, anybody!  Do you want a free jar of jelly?

There were no takers and she had to watch the jar being consigned to a transparent bin.  Privately she bet that, as soon as the shift was over, the staff would be having lovely jam on their airport croissants.  Or maybe they would be too afraid of being poisoned.  Really! She thought of the school bully’s nickname for Castor, but then put it out of her mind.

She had been out early that morning, walking the family Border and had discovered some hugely plump sloes, so she filled her mini-trug with them and hid them under a new packet of poo bags, just in case she met anyone else and it gave the game away as to the spiny bushes’ location.

By three o’clock, they had been pricked with a thorn; sugar had been measured and they were added to some cheap gin – not from Pop My Cork!  That would have been too expensive.  The bottles were now laid down in the cellar, awaiting festive consumption.

The FT had re-assured her that she was ahead of trend yet again.  An article discussed how gin sales had risen by 27% over the past year or so and, in particular, boutique or craft gins.

She had been puzzled by these neologisms, but then the penny dropped: these were the good, old hedgerow tipples that she had been making for years, to her grandma’s recipes.

She felt that Kirstie Allsopp would have approved of her thrift, but then she wondered why that should matter.

As she drove around the semi-circular school drive, which was one-way, she glared at John’s mother’s Volvo.  John was sticking his tongue out at the twins.

Is that boy still bullying you? she asked.

Yes-no. We don’t mind. Actually he is very funny.  He got into trouble today in Assembly.

Oh, why? asked Brassie, genuinely pleased.

He was singing:

All things wise and wonderful

The Big Bang made them all..

He had to write an punishment essay at lunchbreak, which he said violated his human rights, especially as he has learning disabilities, but Caligula, we mean Mr Milford-Haven said that it was, nevertheless, an A*.

A*! Humph! grunted Brassie, almost making contact with the car in front’s bumper, which just happened to be the same Volvo which we described previously.

John said that there was an expandable universe before the Big Bang and then it bounced, just like a cricket ball.  Then there was infinite expansion, said Castor.

Infinite expansion of that child’s ego! muttered Brassie.  He simply stole all of that from ‘Horizon’    I saw it the other night. Mr Milford-Haven should mention the dangers of plagiarism in his end of term report.

But sometimes boys that get very poor reports end up getting the Nobel Prize, do they not, Mum?

Don’t you two assume anything.  Daddy and I expect wonderful reports about you or else.. She couldn’t think of any sanction, but then.. or else, she repeated, no new cricket pads.

We are both second top equal for Science.

Brassie dumped their satchels in the hall, along with the flugelhorn case.

Who’s top? she tried to sound nonchalant.

Don’t worry: Ferdy.  John’s third.

There was a puddle in the hall which she had to step over.   Wretched Border!

Mind out! she cautioned and went down to the cellar to fetch a bucket and mop.

The twins heard a cry of dismay.  They climbed down the steps.  There had been a Big Bang in the cellar.  The sloe gin had exploded and there was glass and chaos everywhere.

Oh, Mum, that’s just what John said.  Infinite expansion, commented Pollux.

You should have left some room at the top of the bottles, lectured Castor.

Brassie could have consigned them both to a Black Hole.  She stepped back into the puddle:

Shut up and go and do your prep!

And that was because she was a Very Bad Parent.

 

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

Learning Difficulties, Bullying and other problems.

10 Wednesday Oct 2012

Posted by Candia in Arts, Celebrities, Education, Humour, Music, Religion, Summer 2012, Suttonford

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Brassica, Bullying, Castor and Pollux, Damien HIrst, flugelhorn, Frida Kahlo, Gerald Nabarro, Jedward, Julia Roberts, Keira Knightley, Learning Difficulties, Love of God, moustache, Road to Damascus, school orchestra, Shostakovich, Three Little Pigs

Frida Kahlo, Self-Portrait, 1940. See discussi...

Brassica was horrified.  She had her eyebrows threaded as she was beginning to develop a monobrow like Frida Kahlo’s.  The beauty therapist offered to do her moustache on the next visit.

Moustache!  What moustache?  She was peering into the mirror in her dressing room and yes, although not exactly a handlebar, or a Gerald Nabarro version, there was a shadow on her upper lip.

 I wonder how long I’ve been going around like that? she deliberated.

There was nothing else for it but electrolysis, so off she scooted to Suttonford’s Pride Knows No Pain beauty studio, where she subjected her hirsutism and her husband’s credit card to a series of expensive shocks.

Suddenly, everywhere she looked, she could spot moustachioed women.  Was that a tell-tale penumbra perched over Keira Knightley’s lips as she kissed Aaron Taylor-Johnson?  Whatever.  She had no intention of stealing Conchita Wurst’s thunder.

It was as if she was experiencing a post Road to Damascus revelation, where, sight returned, scales having fallen from her eyes, she saw everything more clearly.

For the Love of God by Damien Hirst (2007)

Julia Roberts might have been cool about hair in certain parts of her anatomy, but Brassica knew that she personally would wage war on any productive follicle.  Dermo-abrasion- whatever!  Should one dot be visible, she would stud her skull with diamante until she resembled For the Love of God by Damien Hirst.  Or she could wear a hoodie, balaclava, visor, diver’s helmet, burka or a World War 1 gas mask, asbestos or not.

Mum, why can’t you take us to school?  moaned the twins, Castor and Pollux.

I’ve got an appointment at the studio, she mumbled under the bandaging.  She simply couldn’t face the other mothers in the school yard.

But we don’t have to go with Rollo, Ferdy and that lot, do we?  They’re always late, so we will end up getting a detention too.  Anyway, Mr Milford-Haven wanted to talk to you about our school reports.

What school reports?  You didn’t give them to me. Are they still in your satchels?

Castor and Pollux exchanged guilty glances.

We were scared that you and Dad would be angry.

Angry? Why?

Because our form teacher wrote us a joint report which said that we had a glorious future in show-business as Jedward 2.

That is unacceptable and unprofessional, said Brassica.  I will have to have words with Mr Milford– what is his name again?-

We all call him ‘Caligula’, the twins interjected.

Well, whatever it is, I am going to see him about the bullying you have both been subjected to this term.

Bullying?  They looked puzzled.

You told me that that boy in the orchestra was calling you Bastard and Bollocks.

But John’s our bestest buddy, Mum.

Well, I am not having him copying your Latin prep when I spent so long looking up all those words on the internet.  He’ll probably end up getting the end of year Classics cup.  And, I saw his mother sniggering when you- she paused to look directly at Castor– were playing your flugelhorn solo in the Claustrophobic competition.

Shostakovich, mum, supplied Pollux.

John! Such a common name anyway, Brassica continued.  After all, he’s only on Grade 1 violin and you two are sitting Grade 5 theory at Christmas.  Hasn’t he got learning difficulties?

Probably, said Castor.  He is allowed extra time in the school orchestra rehearsals and he is always behind the beat.

Then, horror of horrors, just as Ferdy and Rollo’s mum’s 4X4 drew up and the horn was tooted, Pollux asked:

Do all mummies have hair on their chinnie-chin-chins?

Brassica shoved them both out of the porch:

Only when they have produced little pigs!

Very bad parent, she admonished herself as the children waved goodbye out of the window.  But not as bad as John’s mum.

She would soon blow her house down!  Now, where had she put these tweezers?

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook
  • Email
  • Print
  • Tumblr
  • Pinterest

Like this:

Like Loading...

My name is Candia. Its initial consonant alliterates with “cow” and there are connotations with the adjective “candid.” I started writing this blog in the summer of 2012 and focused on satire at the start.

Interspersed was ironic news comment, reviews and poetry.

Over the years I have won some international poetry competitions and have published in reputable small presses, as well as reviewing and reading alongside well- established poets. I wrote under my own name then, but Candia has taken me over as an online persona. Having brought out a serious anthology last year called 'Its Own Place' which features poetry of an epiphanal nature, I was able to take part in an Arts and Spirituality series of lectures in Winchester in 2016.

Lately I have been experimenting with boussekusekeika, sestinas, rhyme royale, villanelles and other forms. I am exploring Japanese themes at the moment, my interest having been re-ignited by the recent re-evaluations of Hokusai.

Thank you to all my committed followers whose loyalty has encouraged me to keep writing. It has been exciting to meet some of you in the flesh- in venues as far flung as Melbourne and Sydney!

Copyright Notice

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Candia Dixon Stuart and candiacomesclean.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Recent Posts

  • Art Deco House
  • Thames Pillbox
  • Coln St Aldwyn Flooded Field
  • Wedding in Sydney, NSW
  • Vertical Slice from my Previous Painting

Archives

  • February 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • December 2014
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • August 2014
  • July 2014
  • June 2014
  • May 2014
  • April 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • September 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012

Categories

  • Animals
  • Architecture
  • art
  • Arts
  • Autumn
  • Bible
  • Celebrities
  • Community
  • Crime
  • Education
  • Environment
  • Family
  • Fashion
  • Film
  • gardens
  • History
  • Home
  • Horticulture
  • Hot Wings
  • Humour
  • Industries
  • James Bond films
  • Jane Austen
  • Language
  • Literature
  • Media
  • Music
  • mythology
  • Nature
  • News
  • Nostalgia
  • Olympic Games
  • Parenting
  • Personal
  • Philosophy
  • Photography
  • Poetry
  • Politics
  • Psychology
  • Relationships
  • Religion
  • Romance
  • Satire
  • Sculpture
  • short story
  • short story
  • Social Comment
  • Sociology
  • Sport
  • Spring
  • St Swithun's Day
  • Summer
  • Summer 2012
  • Supernatural
  • Suttonford
  • television
  • Tennis
  • Theatre
  • Travel
  • urban farm
  • White Horse
  • winter
  • Writing

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

acrylic acrylic painting acrylics Alex Salmond Andy Murray Ashmolean Australia Autumn barge black and white photography Blenheim Border Terrier Boris Johnson Bourbon biscuit boussokusekika Bradford on Avon Brassica British Library Buscot Park charcoal Charente choka clerihew Coleshill collage Cotswolds David Cameron dawn epiphany Fairford FT funghi Genji George Osborne Gloucestershire Golden Hour gold leaf Hampshire herbaceous borders Hokusai husband hydrangeas Jane Austen Kelmscott Kirstie Allsopp Lechlade Murasaki Shikibu mushrooms National Trust NSW Olympics Oxford Oxfordshire Pele Tower Pillow Book Prisma reflections Roger Federer Sculpture Shakespeare sheep Spring Spring flowers still life Suttonford Tale of Genji Thames Thames path Theresa May Victoria watercolour William Morris willows Wiltshire Winchester Cathedral

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,569 other subscribers

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • Candia Comes Clean
    • Join 1,569 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • Candia Comes Clean
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
%d bloggers like this: