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Tag Archives: Pastoral Care

Pastoral Care

10 Friday Jan 2014

Posted by Candia in Education, Fashion, History, Horticulture, Humour, Literature, Psychology, Romance, Social Comment, Suttonford, Writing

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

allotment, Bourbon biscuit, child benefit, Cincinnatus, dibbling, harrowing, in loco parentis, internecine, open question, Pastoral Care, ploughing, Polar vortex, Protestant reformation, seamed stockings, smallholding, spyware, toga, Type 2 diabetes, William Morris Willow Bough Minor, work ethic, yoke of oxen

 

Gisela Boothroyd-Smythe and her newly ex-husband, Maxwell,

sat at opposite ends of the William Morris Willow Bough Minor

upholstered sofa in Acting Head, Augustus Snodbury’s study.

He had called both warring factions into school for a review of

their delinquent son’s Autumn term.  The emotional temperature

in the room reflected the physical Polar Vortex being experienced

elsewhere.

Snod opened the large file on his desk.  Gisela rubbed her heel on

the rug, exacerbating the hole which had been initiated many

parental meetings before.  She twisted the wedding ring which she

now wore on her right hand.

Maxwell sat with his legs splayed, trying to make himself appear

bigger.

Attendance…hmm..almost perfect.  Maths and Science very good.

Arts subjects: ‘a facility with words’, as his form teacher, Mr

Milford-Haven has so succinctly put it in his summative report.

Everything seems to boil down to John’s problematic attitude to

authority and his lack of empathy towards his peers.

He is a bit of an individual, Maxwell broke in and his ex-wife scowled

at him.

I understand that both children are now boarding, Snod re-directed.

He felt that this was one of those open questions, couched in a

declarative which might open up discussion.  He was surprised to

hear himself employing the technique.

Ye Gods Above! I must have been inadvertently listening at the last

Training Session, he silently marvelled.

Gisela cleared her throat.  Em, yes.  Juniper feels that she has more

freedom at school.

That’s because you set up spyware to find out what she was up to,

interrupted Maxwell.

Maybe, but you didn’t have to inform the Child Benefit people that she

was not with me sufficiently to merit a payment, recriminated Gisela.

Now, let’s stick to the point, Snod intervened.  He had almost added

‘children’.  Both offspring seem to have become more calm with the

schools being ‘in loco parentis’.

Gisela and Maxwell forgot their differences to exchange an

uncomprehending glance.  Neither had studied Latin.

I think, concluded Snod, that participation in the school concert

definitely improved his co-operative skills. Life is all about teamwork

(What a load of old jargon, he admonished himself.)

Of course, individuation can be a positive.  After all, it led to The

Protestant Reformation.  It’s all a matter of cultivating the work

ethic.

Personally I hate teams, he admitted to himself.  Unless, of course,

they are of the cricketing or choral varieties.  In every other realm I

prefer to calculate my own decisions and work out how to achieve my

own goals.

He recalled the image of one of his personal heroes.  There had been a

pen and ink drawing of Cincinnatus wearing a shorty toga and perhaps a

laurel wreath, depicted in Gus’ own boyish Latin textbook.

Cincinnatus.JPG

There he was, the great dictator, minding his own business, in an agrarian

backwater, furrowing a field in retirement, when he was called upon to

leave the plough and to govern through the crisis of an invasion of three

intercenine tribes.

Imagine how pointless it would have been if Cincinnatus’ governance skills,

finely honed through harrowing, had been hampered by him having to drag a

yoke of useless dead oxen after him! Snod opined to himself. No, sometimes,

it is better to just get on and do things yourself.  Certainly in this line of

business it’s the case.

He quickly re-grouped his thought processes, releasing his

linked fingers.

Well,  I won’t detain you, knowing that you are both Very Busy People.

Flattery could get you everywhere.

And he stood up, remaining behind the desk, because he had seen

his GP do the very same when he wanted to terminate a consultation.

Snod then shook their hands.  Gisela had to stretch over the ring binder,

as her arms were shorter.  She didn’t shake hands with her ex-husband

and barely inclined her head to him.

The School Secretary showed them out and Snod reflected that he had

been advocating attributes which he had never developed himself. Did this

make him a hypocrite?

Hmm, she’s wearing high heels today, he observed. You know, I could

have sworn that she had seamed stockings..

ELEGANTI FULLY FASHIONED STOCKINGS CUBAN HEEL VARIOUS COLOURS & SIZES IMPERFECTS

He was fixated on the hosiery of his PA.

The door opened once more and the question was resolved.

I’ve brought you your tea and some biscuits, she announced.

You probably need a sugar fix after seeing those two.

On the contrary, I feel remarkably refreshed, he commented, glancing

down at her heels as she left the room.

Mmm-two sugars and two Bourbon biscuits.  Diana restricted his biscuit

portion to one.  She was always banging on about Type Two Diabetes.

She ought to leave a man alone, he cringed.

Mr Snodbury, sir!

He jumped out of his reverie and spilled his tea into the saucer.

It was Milford-Haven.  Snod hoped this wouldn’t be a lengthy session.

He bit into one of the Bourbons to mark his territory.

Yes, all this power was heady stuff, but he, like his Classical hero, would

return to civilian oblivion once his task was over.  Maybe he would try to get

an allotment?  His pension might not run to a Roman smallholding.

He wondered if the secretary liked horticulture.  He wouldn’t mind

watching her bend over as she did some dibbling.

Are you all right, sir?  I mean, is that all right?

Yes, Caligula- I mean, Milford-Haven, do as you think best.  Show some

initiative.

And Nigel stood up, grabbed the other biscuit and said, Cheers!

Snod supposed that was what was called being an individual.

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Taking the Biscuit

09 Tuesday Apr 2013

Posted by Candia in Education, Humour, Religion, Suttonford

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Bourbon biscuit, Christian Pilgrims Progress, Custard Cream, Garibaldi biscuit, Jammie Dodger, Pastoral Care

Can you imagine the comments Shakespeare might have made on his

pupils’ chapbooks, or whatever they wrote on? Nigel was warming to his

theme, but Snod was noting something down in his staff planner.

Do you know, he said, not apropos of the current subject, I have noticed

that for every packet of Custard Creams in this staffroom, there are two

packets of Bourbons?  It is simply not good enough and I intend to note

it in the comments box regarding the kitchen staff appraisal.

He ate the biscuit in one bite and, showing that he had been listening

in the way that teachers through the ages can monitor situations while

filling in their crossword, or scanning the latest hot racing tip, he added:

The Bard may not have used red ink, but he would have dipped his quill in

vitriol, no doubt.  He was the master of the put-down, after all.

‘You scullion!  You rampallion!  You fustilarian!  I’ll tickle your catastrophe’.  That

used to be one of my favourite quotations.  It used to quieten the Lower School

rather well. Another good one was : ‘Methinks’st thou art a general offence

and every man should beat thee.’

 He took a sip of stewed tea.  Just the way he liked it.

Nigel’s smile faded.  But we are not permitted to write such comments now,

or to make threats, he reminded himself, as much as his colleague.

More’s the pity-no! said Snodbury, reaching for a Jammie Dodger, which didn’t

feature highly in his list of favourites.  The goo tended to stick in his dentures.

The heart shape in the middle was unmanly, he thought.  Nevertheless..

On a scale of 1-5, Nigel might have to rate Snod as a 1 for Pastoral Care.

He could hardly vouch for him by writing on his appraisal form:

Every wretch, pining and pale before,

Beholding him, plucks courage from his looks:

A largess universal like the sun

His liberal eye doth give to every one..

Maybe it would be more honest to pen:

a candle, the better burnt out.

But what if Snodbury were to write on his:

You botcher’s apprentice or You shallow vassal?

Maybe they could prop each other up and Snod could write

something like the following against his rugby coaching:

A sweeter and lovelier gentleman,

Framed in the prodigality of nature,

Young, valiant, wise, and no doubt right royal,

The spacious world cannot again afford.

Snod stood up first and, collecting his weary pile of paperwork, made

as if to leave the staffroom.

Next Friday, periods 2 and 3 all right for you, Milford-Haven?

Nigel couldn’t see the point in him being assessed by someone so old in

tooth and claw.  With a heavy heart he noted down his nemesis in his

planner.

As Snod opened the door, he turned on his heel and in an oracular voice

he addressed the empty (save for Nigel) staffroom:

They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly,

But bear-like I must fight the course.

Amen, replied Nigel, deeply affected, and added, under his breath,

lest the staffroom be bugged, something which he felt was personally

applicable:

O limed soul, that struggling to be free

Art more engaged!

And taking the last Garibaldi, he took up his burden of marking, like Christian

before he had passed through the wicker gate and, through the staffroom,

he took his solitary way.

.

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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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