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Tag Archives: model railway club

Resume

06 Sunday Jul 2014

Posted by Candia in Architecture, Education, Family, History, Humour, Literature, Music, Romance, short story, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Bonnie Prince Charlie, Bosphorous, clarsach, communion chalice, Head Teachers' Conference, hypogonadism, Inklings, lacrosse, Land Girl, lost Faberge egg, model railway club, National Trust, Pele Tower, seamed stockings, Simon Bolivar, Snodland, St Birinus, St Vitus

Candia: You think it would be useful?

Brassica: Well, a lot of people have come in on the action

mid-plot, so-yes- why not offer them a synopsis?

Candia:  Okay- they can skip it if they have been following

since Snod’s story took off.

Here it is, folks:

SYNOPSIS: Snod’s Law

Augustus Snodbury, Senior Master and Acting Head of St Birinus’ Middle School

is ripe for retirement. He loves comfort food, the Model Railway Club and Latin.

He is a role model for Junior Masters, but a bête noire for other staff.

For his entire life, he has taken for granted that he was the product of a liaison

of socialite and erstwhile Land Girl, Berenice Snodbury and A N Other.

Berenice’s sister, Augusta, took on responsibility for the child when her sister

ran off to Venezuela, following romantic dreams inspired by her hero, Simon

Bolivar.

The original Augusta, the girls’ mother. had not set them a terribly orthodox

example, as she herself had run around the Bosphorous with an itinerant rug

seller.

Snod’s lonely, institutionalised existence is interrupted by a climactic revelation

that an affair which he conducted with the ‘lax’ (lacrosse) mistress of a

sister establishment many moons ago engendered a child. That ‘child’ is now

a Housemistress at St Vitus’ School for the Academically-Gifted Girl, the school

in which her mother originally taught. (In fact, Gus has unwittingly met his

daughter on a number of occasions, at joint educational functions.)

The reason that his relationship broke down was owing to a Hardyean

twist of fate. A missing communication which contained his marriage

proposal now re-surfaces during re-furbishment for a school let. Diana,

the retired lax mistress, is exposed as having been deceitful.

She married ‘on the re-bound’, foisting her child on Murgatroyd-Syylk,

picture dealer and restorer. The pair subsequently divorced and now

Syylk is completing a restoration project of a Pele Tower in the Borders.

UNC Lacrosse.jpg

Drusilla, the Housemistress, attempts to encourage her parents to meet.

Will their romance re-ignite? Initially, it is a damp squib.

On Berenice’s death, a mysterious package arrives at school. It contains

a signet ring which Augustus’ apparent half-brother was asked to send

over to England. It bears an insignia associated with Wyvern Mote, now a

National Trust property.

Drusilla and Gus visit Great-Aunt Augusta and take her out of Snodland

Nursing Home for the Debased Gentry for the day, partly to introduce her

to her great-niece, and partly to investigate Wyvern Mote. There they see

a photograph in the schoolroom of two of the original heirs, with their tutor,

Anthony Revelly. The facial resemblance is clear: Gus is his offspring; Revelly

his father, rather than Lord Wyvern.

Lady Wyvern had had the child by her sons’ tutor on the death of her

husband. The tutor was permitted to live in a grace-and-favour apartment

in the stable block, for life, when the property was handed over to The

National Trust.

Berenice, who had been a Land Girl in the vicinity, had been paid an

undisclosed sum to acknowledge the child as being her own. A good time

girl, Berenice had tired of the responsibility, eventually absconding and

leaving her sister to arrange his schooling at St Birinus. Augusta had

once been Head Girl of St Vitus’, so knew of the boys’ prep school

establishment and its reputation.

Now Hugo, in Venezuela, has to be disabused of his belief in his

relationship to Gus.  They decide to leave Aunt Augusta in the dark.

Danish Jubilee Egg.jpg

The latter gave her ‘great-niece’ a present of what resembles one

of the famous missing Faberge eggs.  It turns out to be a fake and

yet, Dru’s visit to her step-father in the Pele Tower makes up for her

disappointment, as she is promised a communion chalice which Bonnie

Prince Charlie used before his fateful final ride south, on Syylk’s decease.

(The Pele Tower turns out to have been in Lady Wyvern’s family in the

past, so there is a neat circularity about Drusilla’s future inheritance of

the restored property, as Murgatroyd’s sole heiress.

The Head Teacher of St Birinus’ had an unfortunate ‘turn’ at the Christmas

Eve Midnight Service and was diagnosed with hypogonadism. His mid-life

crisis leads to him taking time off in order to make a motorcycle trip across

The Sahara, much to his wife’s relief. Unfortunately, Gus has to ‘stand in’,

but when his previous boss decides to abdicate, he does not apply for the

permanent post. Nevertheless, a position of Deputy Head is created for him,

in order to boost his pension. Poskett, Milford-Haven and Drusilla Fotheringay-

Syylk apply for the Headship, but are unsuccessful. Will the latter two decide

to throw over their careers and try to make a musical success of their lives

together?

Drusilla has shone in various musical concerts, by playing her harp for both

schools. She has been the focus of attention from Nigel Milford-Haven, the

rather wimpish Junior Master who is beginning to sing solo tenor in some

school productions and Geoffrey Poskett, Choirmaster. She seems to favour

Nigel, since she has asked him to come to the Borders with her in the school

holidays, to stage a concert for clarsach and voice.

She hopes to raise money for Murgatroyd’s roof repairs. Nigel is nervous, as

his mother usually draws on his decorating expertise in the school holidays

and she is not going to be too pleased at his bid for independence.

Meanwhile ‘Snod’ has settled into a friendly relationship with Diana, the mother

of his child, who has sold her cottage and moved back to the Suttonford area,

in which both schools are situated. However, his attention has been attracted

to Virginia Fisher-Giles, the widowed seamed-stocking-wearing PA. An invitation

for coffee chez elle after she has run him to a Head Teachers’ Conference

turns out to be more intimate than either anticipated.

Will he succumb to a projection of future domesticity with Virginia? Will he

resurrect the corpse of his relationship with Diana, or will he continue his

‘Inkling’ existence of bachelor bliss?

The lure of retirement is like an ever-receding pot of gold. He has a year

or two to serve as Deputy Head under the new regime. Will he be able to

preserve the old ways, or will the introduction of a new system create a

tsunami of bureaucracy that will threaten to engulf him?

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Demiurge or Biological Urge?

13 Tuesday May 2014

Posted by Candia in Education, Family, History, Humour, Philosophy, Politics, Romance, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Alastair Sim, Alistair Ross, Anglocentric, Article 26, biological urge, Board of Governors, Brittanic Celtic language, Cloacae, Conchita Wurst, cultural norms, demiurge, Furry Dance, geiger counter, Gwer, hirsutism, Institute for Policy Studies in Education, Kernowek, Lapsang, London Metropolitan University, minority communities, model railway club, national minority group, nepotism, pasty, phoenix, piskey, pluralism, positive discrimination, scubmaw, St Endellion Festival, Tate St Ives, The Beatles, tin mining, Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Hmm, it’s interesting that Geoffrey Poskett has got nowhere in his application

for the Headship and he is a Yorkshireman, said Dru.  It was her free afternoon

and she was sharing her thoughts with her mother and Sonia in Royalist

House .

What’s that got to do with it? asked Sonia.

Everything, replied Dru.  You see, various institutions, even in the independent

sector, feel that they are not attracting enough staff from minority

communities.

Yorkshiremen- or should I say Yorkshire people?- form a fairly large

gene pool, remarked Sonia.  I should think that his rejection is more

likely to be down to ageism, rather than Lancastrian bias.

Well, you’ll never guess who has been put on the short-list? Dru teased.

Go on, I’ll never guess, said her mother.  Not that young chap who sang

in the concert?

You’ve got it! Dru was perturbed to be in competition with Nigel.  She

twisted the gold harp on its chain-the one he had sent her after their

performance.  His name is Nigel Milford-Haven.

He looked about nineteen! Diana expostulated.  But, then again, I think

all young men do and not just members of law enforcement agencies.

Nigel is their ideal candidate, said Dru ruefully.  You see, he is half Cornish

and half Welsh.

Presumably his father was Welsh with a surname like Milford-Haven? Diana

deducted.

I assume so.  He said something about going to his mother’s house when

he was at the St Endellion Festival-the holiday when he had to paint her

bathroom!

He is tres gentil, but Father hinted that his classroom management

leaves a lot to be desired.  She hoped that she was not being disloyal.

Sounds like he’s in with a chance then, remarked a jaded Diana.  It was often

those who couldn’t teach who sought promotion out of the classroom.

Well, he is offering extra curricular skills, such as ‘manning’- and I use the

term deliberately- the model railway club.  Even the boys are not allowed to

lay a finger on the locomotives.  To tell you the truth, we have exchanged

views on our joint success thus far.  The poor guy is mortified to be

standing against me, yet thinks nepotism may rule the day, whereas I

think the Board of Governors will be very careful about my having put

myself forward while Father is Acting Head.  I expect that they are

worried that I might accept the post and then go off on triple maternity

leave!

Well, it would serve them right if you did! said Sonia.  I think you should

get pregnant immediately!  After all, she remarked a little unkindly, you are

leaving things rather late.  Let me look at your tea leaves and I’ll see if there

is anyone in the offing.

Dru blushed.  She had drained her Lapsang and Sonia was becoming

excited.

I think a nice young man may be appearing on your horizon very soon.

Great timing! replied Dru.  You wait for a decade or so and then he

materialises just as you are attempting to further your career.

Anyway, Nigel is sure to be the victor.  To be Cornish is to be recognised as

hailing from a national minority group.  He will probably put the Furry Dance

in the School Assembly.  Pluralism is all nowadays.  Article 26 of the Universal

Declaration of Human Rights, 1948, advocates it. Positive discrimination is

the order of the day.

There was a reference in the press to a paper by Alistair Ross from some

Institute for Policy Studies in Education at London Metropolitan University,

Diana agreed.

What did it say? asked Dru.

Wait!  I’ll find it in the re-cycling basket.  She disappeared into the utility

room and returned triumphant.  It poses the question: does it matter if the

teaching profession reflects the ethnic composition of society or not?  He

thinks it does.

Dru looked as if she thought that the powers-that-be would concur.

Nigel will be seen to bring to his work a variant set of cultural norms,

appropriate for the diverse multi-cultural population of England.  He will

reflect that range in his subconscious behaviour and attitudes, as they

stipulate.

Oh, stuff and nonsense! said Sonia.  Forget the subconscious!  And that is

coming from me as a retired Headmistress and a clairvoyant!  It is what you

consciously transmit that is important in the classroom.  Children don’t

analyse your subconscious, except to detect weakness when you say or

threaten something that you really do not intend to carry out.  We always

used to talk about flagging things up.  Making things explicit.  ‘Do that once

again and you will be waiting behind after school, sort of thing.’  They didn’t

need a geiger counter to pick up our meaning.

Now their mothers refuse to let you detain them, said Dru.  Parents have

to do the school run and pick up younger siblings at other establishments.

They refuse to be delayed. One has very few sanctions.

That’s the whole problem, stated Sonia.  But there aren’t any Cornish

children at St Birinus Middle, are there?  So whom would Nigel be

representing?

He is to make a stand against racism.  Some children were heard calling him

The Pasty and The Piskey, as well as using his main moniker: Caligula, which

isn’t Cornish, obviously. 

You see, said Sonia.  if you forbid one thing, they will just adapt their

impertinence.

The plan is to change some of the signage in school to reflect the status of

the Cornish language, Dru broke in, and to teach them respect for other

cultures.

The canteen are offering Hoggan and Scubmaw on Thursdays and Pesk on

Fridays. The Geography teacher is formulating a module on tin mining and

the Art teacher is taking a little trip to Tate St Ives.

Surely that is discriminatory against Tate  Liverpool? argued Diana.

Apparently not.  That department justified its choice by stressing that

Scouse culture had been over-represented in the past.  The kids had all

heard of The Beatles, clarified Dru. 

But Kernowek, the South Western Brittanic Celtic language was

extinct by the nineteenth century, Diana added.  Mind you, they still

teach Latin.  Maybe they could put up some Classical language signs-

you know, ‘Cloacae’!

Oh, no doubt that would be to represent any families who descend from

Roman deserters who jumped the wall and ran off with local girls, I

suppose? Sonia said cynically.

Yes, well, they want minority languages resurrected like phoenixes, Dru

pointed out. They have already added a sign on the door to the Gents’,

saying: Gwer Privedhyow.

Hmm, Sonia said.  Maybe phoenix  is the current buzzword.  If you grew

a beard you might represent something like that Eurovision person.  You

could stand for all gender variations. You’ve actually got a little bit of a

moustache already!

Dru ran a finger over her upper lip.  It wasn’t that noticeable, was it?

She still intended to turn up for the interview day.  Nigel had better

not exploit the agenda by claiming to object to Anglocentric

curriculae.

He had been taken seriously.  So had she.  But she did hope that

she wouldn’t be confused with Conchita Wurst, in spite of hirsutism

raising its stubble.  There had been headmistresses in the past who

favoured drag- Alastair Sim, for one, but she hoped that she could be

rise to the top of the greasy pole in her own merits, and without

gender being an issue.  And it wasn’t a lap dancing pole.

20140321 Dancing Stars Conchita Wurst 4187.jpg

She suddenly wondered if she could conceive, or whether the moustache

might be a sign that she should heed Time’s winged chariot.

Was the expression of biological urge more important than the desire

for a role as demiurge?  Maybe she and Nigel should dispense with the

Platonic and get a life together?  Or make lives together?

 

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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.

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