“The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.”
What with all this sunshine we’ve been having, I’ve spent a lot of time with the kids in the garden or down the front and was actually sat on a wall by the beach last week, staring into the distance, reflecting on the seminal changes which have taken place over this past twelve months.
I then decided I needed to spend a few hours letting you know what’s happening; lots of words, self-indulgent writing, to reach you, as Travis nearly sang.
Since last we met – an emotional obituary aside – so much has happened that this may appear quite a difficult and busy period of my life and if you thought so, you’d be right, although as I was once reminded by my best man – stated in ‘The Dark Knight’ – the night is darkest just before the dawn.
And, as promised, the dawn came.
We had great fun at a couple of weddings, proms, parties, and some magic moments as the littlest elephant continues to develop his vocabulary ten-fold.
Plus, B thrives daily, getting her first bike (a hand-me-down, done up lovely) and she rode it gleefully around the very park we first walked her in; then, she did a magical thing at sports day in the siblings’ race:
Oh, and climbed several walls in an old church, which also made my eyes water.
Also, I had a wonderful Fathers’ Day – I was spoilt rotten, what with gin and Star Wars books and more – then had a taste of the exotic with a 10ft Burmese python around my neck and a shot of Maotai, a 53% Chinese liqueur that Nixon apparently labelled a panacea and Kissinger said could solve anything.
So far, so good… But there have been some difficult times in 2017-18, not just for me. There now shines the light of a period of rest and recuperation after a stressful, intense few months leading up to a long holiday.
And, anyway, I just want my time with you.
“I use the words you taught me. If they don’t mean anything any more, teach me others. Or let me be silent.”
The summer holidays are here and the World Cup has been and gone: no sticker books this time, instead, the only books I’ve been interested in recently are the reading kind, as the job demands. Obviously I’d recommend ‘Wonder’; ‘Rook’ by Anthony McGowan; ‘Ready Player One’ for any gamers and then this classic about the #BlackLivesMatter movement:
Also… well, there are so many others.
Seventeen books since January, and counting, all because I rediscovered the power of reading – a power which takes me into the summer and led to me talking to a room full of VIPs and strangers about the journey I’ve been on during the first half of this year.
I was given several humbling compliments by those present and was even described as ‘the most inspirational teacher ever’ by someone I’d never met. At this point, I offer a disclaimer: I’m normally trying to be like Jaggers, the lawyer of Magwitch in ‘Great Expectations’ who doesn’t let his home and work lives overlap, but in this case I’ve made an exception because of the profound effect a work-related thing has had on my home life.
It’s basically a course over four days, run by CLPE, which has changed my life – as a father, a reader and a teacher. More specifically, it focused on ‘the power of reading’ and opened up a whole new world of opportunity where books are concerned, both in and out of the classroom.
Led by inspirational individuals, who read even more than me, I ended up volunteering to give a short presentation which made people cry and nicely personified the belief of Auggie that ‘everyone deserves a standing ovation once in their life’. This wasn’t quite that much of an accolade, but probably the nearest thing, and certainly made years of hard work worthwhile.
Plus, I got to meet one of my literary heroes – another FCB – who himself gave an emotive and eloquent talk about the importance of teachers and reading for pleasure, which wasn’t lost on me after a couple of terms of really transformative teaching by others.
This guy is a legend. Even if he lives locally, we have mutual friends and I sometimes see him doing his shopping, it was a special moment, given what he has created in his life and its legacy. He blew me away with his articularcy and emotion during an improvised talk which focused on thanking us for the outcomes we’ll never know we inspired.
Given that I’ve been reading and thinking so much, I’ve not had time to watch much TV – World Cup aside, naturally – other than the excellent Random Acts, Keeping Faith and then most importantly Gomorrah and a few food programmes which all inspired me to decide on the destination for my fortieth birthday next year.
Talking of Gomorrah, Jesus Christ – Genny, WTF? – what an ending to the third series for anyone who shares my love of what – I think – is quite simply the best thing on TV.
James Martin, Jamie Oliver et all took me further south, though… I’ve long been intrigued by the food, the culture, the ethos of Sicily, and given that my heart is Southern Italian despite my Maghrebin roots, this seemed the natural suggestion for a weekend of over-the-hill celebrations. I’ve been listening – on a loop – to the Gomorrah soundtrack, too, which has heightened my sense of anticipation and enjoyment, and introduced me to several examples of Italian rap music. Some of it is pretty cool… although I’m amazed that this is so popular!
“We are all born mad. Some remain so.”
With so many positives, it’s not surprising that at some point we would feel disappointment. First, by Morrissey, who cancelled the outdoor gig I’d booked as a reward for my hard work over this intense year – my love (despite some controversies) does not diminish, however, because “the more he ignores me, the closer I get” – but then, somewhat surprisingly, by individuals letting us down due to complicated circumstances (or even on purpose, due to weirdness) which simply mean more changes next year.
Sat by the beach, then, my reflection allowed time to plan the summer; it starts with B’s birthday party, another emblem of the transformation this past five years have brought about. It’s been a challenge of resilience for the big little ‘un, too, as she is the youngest in the class. I’m extremely proud; as the photo shows, she’s exhausted… I was truly blown away by her school report, and how she’s negotiated her reception year, but that’s another story – then leads into some evolution but hopefully, lots of standing still.
That includes my completion of the statues project – even if I was overlooked by ‘Hannah’ this year, I started something I can finish – and on the seventh anniversary of my MA graduation, I think of a seminal quote by Samuel Beckett which was used by the Manics on one of their albums and is now hijacked by myself:
“Perhaps my best years are gone. When there was a chance of happiness. But I wouldn’t want them back. Not with the fire in me now. No, I wouldn’t want them back.”
I’m very happy, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that annual feeling as I approach the end of another academic year and then prepare for the top of the hill; it’s natural to take stock and wonder what might have been (especially when I feel like I’ve turned a corner in a new direction) on this journey. I always thought that fame and success in the art world would be the key to happiness.
Instead, it’s in books, in doing the right things, ‘having morals’ (as someone else recently said about us) and most of all, in family. What really cemented my belief that what I’m doing is right – “because I’m true, and I’m real, and this is how I feel” – was written in the front of a notepad by my boss; it was tweeted by a stranger who heard me speak about my journey; it was in overhearing one of the best things anyone’s ever said about me… and then this, from someone I’ve only met four times but clearly struck a mutual chord with.
I shed another tear or twenty when I saw this message:
The power of reading a bit more, indeed.
You might have guessed, if you stuck with it, that I have been reading a lot about / by Beckett recently because his often contradictory, always pragmatic, musings strike a real chord with the often-difficult-but-also-very-rewarding year I’m turning the page over from.
“Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”
“You must go on. I can’t go on. I’ll go on.”
“Je suis comme ça. Ou j’oublie tout de suite ou je n’oublie jamais.”
This is, believe it or not, a very positive to end the blog – nay, the term – on, because I feel reinvigorated and inspired to open the next chapter with a renewed sense of purpose. Excitement, even?
And anyway, before then, six weeks of happiness and haircuts; first tastes of tapas, turning five and having lots of family fun (in between the reading!) proving that, actually, words aren’t all we have.
BCNU X
