Boadicea's Chariot

Don’t think there will be much of a contest this week. The winner is; Mary Bousted, General Secretary, Association of Teachers and Lecturers.

Pupils’ behaviour in school has a huge impact on their learning, that of other pupils and on their teachers.

Well, I’ll go to our house! Does it really?

A quick scan of the article gives a good view of one of the reasons that many of our schools are in such a mess.

My post about the stealthy advance of Islam in Australia is not about “xenophobia” – or even “xemophobia” to use your spelling.   Australia welcomes its immigrants, but it does not expect to give them special dispensations that the rest of the country does not receive; it expects them to integrate.   I have therefore removed your comment from that post, but here it is again, and you are welcome to debate it here, if that’s your desire.

Chris and everyone, that is absolutley true – “some of the reasons why they might wish to emigrate are likely to be found in the country in which they wish to be immigrants”. Some people come here expecting the much-vaunted liberal attitudes to race and religion and are soon disillusioned. In fact Denmark, “the happiest country in the world”, suffers from as much xemophobia as the next.

Before you start, let me remind you that –

• Islam is not a race.
• The burqa is not a requirement of Islam.

Australians are neither xenophobic, nor racist.   Our way of expressing ourselves may sometimes give foreigners the impression that we are, but it’s no more than a linguistic misinterpretation – by the foreigner.   There you go, a special post for you to expand upon your accusation.

Boadicea needed her signature witnessed on a UK document, and I needed a ‘proof of identity’ copy of my drivers licence notarised, so we toddled off to the local court house to see the volunteer JP.

We have a different system in Australia – well, we do for many things, of course – if documents are to be formalised, it’s a JP who does the deed.   He/She is a notary public, authorised to do such things.   You find them in shopping malls usually, or if you’re at work one of your mates will probably be a JP, or failing that someone in HR is sure to be.   It’s all free, but it’s also very legal – they have a little stamp, and everything.   Nothing, but nothing is legal in Australia unless a JP has seen it, signed it and stamped it.

They are almost invariably very nice people – after all, they’re giving their 3 or 4 hours attendance free – and today’s chap was no exception. Continue reading “A Day of Disillusionment”

People who lean on logic and philosophy and rational exposition end by starving the best part of the mind.
William Butler Yeats

Goodnight everyone, sleep well.

I hope all Aussies are having or have had a happy Australia Day. To join in the celebrations I bought a packet of Anzac Biscuits at a local supermarket, even though Anzac Day itself isn’t for a couple of months. I’d never noticed them before.

According to the blurb on the packet, these biscuits celebrate “the enduring spirit of Australian and New Zealand men and women and assumed an increasingly important role as World War I dragged on.” They were baked at home using the ingredients available, rolled oats, golden syrup and flour and were sold as fund-raisers for the Red Cross. Now the company donates (a meagre) 4% of sales to support veterans, through the Royal British Legion in the UK.

They’re not the most exciting biscuits ever, and now use dessicated coconut as well, but they’re good for dunking. Am I the only person never to have noticed these biscuits on the shelves before?

Visited my father yesterday, found this on a side table.

My questions are… Continue reading “What, where, when”

He walked slowly over to the revolving bar and eased himself onto one of the chrome and red leather seats, he swivelled in to face the bar and caught the eye of a bartender who moved quickly towards him, ‘Usual Sir?’ The man nodded and took out a slim gold cigarette case which he opened, glancing around at the other occupants of the bar as he did so. The usual Saturday night crowd he thought as he reached into his pocket to replace the case, taking out a gold Dunhill lighter from its custom made pocket in the jacket of the suit. He lit his cigarette and blew the smoke upwards as the barman returned with his  tonic water, the ice clinking in the tall glass as he placed it on the bar in front of him andtaking the ten shilling note offered. ‘That’s ok’ said the man, ‘keep it,’ the barman was not surprised by the man’s generosity, he always tipped well and as a consequence was never,  kept waiting when when the bar became busier later on. The man swung around on his seat and surveyed the dance hall confirming his earlier thought that it was the usual crowd. It was amazing how many people were creatures of habit when it came to the ritual mating ground of a Mecca ballroom, same place, same time, same faces. Two girls walked past him and one flashed him Continue reading “A Night at the Orchid II”