School Days

I've just finished reading the most entertaining book ever! (well, in my world anyway) It's a book called Spud by a South African writer named John van de Ruit. As far as I've gathered, it's loosely modelled on his life, growing up and going to boarding school for the first time. It's hilarious, an absolute gem - I nearly peed myself.

As a boarding school child myself, I was totally immersed in Spud's world, and every story and moment brought back memories of hostel life. I remember that the day scholars were always under the impression that boarders were a sad bunch of folk who's parents couldn't wait to get rid of them. Thus they were forced to eke out an existence in hostel with very suspicious food and wickedly evil matrons - sorry to burst your pity bubble, hostel was the best experience I ever had! It was a rip-roarous affair with endless encounters with persons totally touched by madness! Let me introduce you to a few of those individuals who made my life one big smile.

1. Ash Grey aka Mrs Hassle - Residing well beyond the lunatic fringe, our head of hostel was the reason I learnt to cuss! Aptly named for the colour of her beady eyes, she took great pleasure in tormenting us all with her labradors, Bracken and Fucken (names they earned after a 2am chase of one of our smaller (weanier) prefects down the corridor) I had dreams of feeding them a poisoned steak.
2. Tappy aka Mrs Tapson - A wheezing asthmatic who smoked 3 packs a day. Picture really dried prune? See Tappy. She loathed me and my loudness - I pulled forkies when she wasn't looking.
3. Peggy/Eileen aka Mrs Clarke - the dreaded Head Mistress. Never has there been a more unpopular invidual - I wonder what it's like to feel the collective hatred of 800 schoolgirls.....And if you're wondering where the names came from, she had a wooden leg - go figure.
4. Mr Rob - One of only 3 male teachers at school (this was TOTALLY contrived) and an absolute darling....only problem was the rather embaressing issue of what we decided was pubic lice.What else would cause a grown man to scratch himself throughout a 2 hr history lecture?
5. Mr Ashley - Over-educated pommie with dilusions of grandeur.
6. Mr Nyanz, aka My Nyandoro - I'm a bit worried about typing out what I know about My Nyanz....in fact, I'm not gonna, tis too disturbing.
7. Mrs Mckay - Try as I may, evil as I am, I have no ill words to speak of Mrs Mckay. To this day she remains the single person who totally inspired me. She introduced me to Eliot and Donne, and furthered my love affair with Shakespeare. From Yeats to Plath to Conrad, Mrs Mckay lit a fire that still burns inside me. Okay, even I can hear the awful sucking........I have to say something nasty......nah, nope, nothing at all. Mrs Mckay just totally rocked!
8. Mrs Haxen - In my opinion, the one most touched by madness. She told the most unbelievable stories though - I still remember something about Elephantisis, testicles and a wheelbarrow.....
9. Mrs Mcarthy - more madness
10. And last but by no means least, Mrs Temlett - another English teacher, and like Mrs Mckay, I loved her to bits too. She was loud, raucous and played the piano like she was possessed. I remember something about the head of music banning her from touching the baby grand......Mrs Temlett was an absolute hoot and all passion. She croaked when she sang and smoked like a freak - just my kinda girl.

There were so many others, each filled with their own idiosyncracies and quirks - a right old riot of lunatics. I adored school days - they made me into the idiot that I am, and for that I shall forever be grateful!

Thin Line...

It is a general consensus among those who know me that I am not quite all there. Frankly, I think that they all just don't understand the creative nature that is my genius! A lesser being would be insulted and offended and find new people to call friends and family, but not I, I laugh at their myopic view of moi! There is after all a thin line between genius and insanity:)

However, lately, I've started to wonder whether I'm skirting on the batty side of that line.....I've found myself having complex conversations with myself, and bursting into song at the most inopportune times. (it's usually Faithless' "Weapons of Mass Destruction") Now brilliant song though it may be, sitting in a meeting room and belting out "whether long range weapon or suicide bomber" is by any standard a tad strange. Could it be possible that everyone's been right all along? Do I really come from the far side of the lunatic fringe? Have I never been on my rocker?

Mulling over my possible insanity, I recalled a story Little Sister relayed to me a couple of years ago. Her and Daddy dearest were enroute home, radio blaring "tinky tinky compound music", when Mr. K started yelling and screaming as one possessed might do. Little Sister, shocked and frightened by this blatant display of lunacy, and fearing for her life considering Daddy dearest was the driver, calmly asked him if he was having some sort of out of body experience. The story goes that he calmly stopped, and without missing a beat, said that he had just been.......get this......POSSESSED BY STAR!!!!!!!

Little Sister, being the canieval that she is could not contain herself and proceeded to howl and cackle all the way home. (much like the way she howled as she relayed the story) I, as is to be expected, was not amused. Possessed by Star????? What in tarnation does that mean? Is my insanity contagious??? Is it progressive??

It took many fishing trips and bottles of sparkling wine before Father was forgiven! After all, it really isn't very Fatherly to insult one's spawn so - especially when madness is so obviously genetic!

I Wanna Be a Rockstar!!!

I'm sure that everyone at some point and time in their life wanted to be a rockstar - the story usually ends with you growing out of it, and investing your time and energy in more meaningful and attainable pursuits. But not me! I still have very vivid dreams of standing on a stage in front of a 60,000 strong crowd, belting out some tear-jerking ballad while my fingers perform magic on my guitar! (you see, I'm both lead singer and guitarist in my band - no behind the scenes drummer for me)
Anyway, point is, I really truly want to be a rockstar, and not for the oodles of cash and endless groupies, but because it's just so unbelievably cool! The passion, the music, the heart and soul of it all - I can't think of anything better. So, I decided a while ago that if this dream were to ever have a hope of being realised, I shall have to start preparing now (the years, they're unfortunately ticking away)
I compiled a list, which I am slowly working down - here's to being a rock god!

1. Learn to at least look like you play guitar - I have gone one step further, and have actually learnt to play. The fingers, they have bled, and the blisters, they have formed, but what is pain in pursuit of art????


2. Do something radical and interesting with one's hair - I'm ashamed to say that I was well on my way with this requirement, then like the lily-livered goat that I am, I buckled and returned to a state of very normal and thus very boring hair! But have no fear, that shall be easily fixed - watch this space!


3. Wear whatever in hell you please - pay no attention to looks of horror that come your way - I wore a bright blue dashiki to work - nuff said!


4. Indulge in body art - the scare-a-little-child-to-tears kind is always recommended - I'm slacking in this regard. I only have one tattoo! BUT, come tomorrow, I will have 2, wish me luck!


5. Be horribly foul-mouthed (think Irish) - I have come in leaps and bounds! From saying spineless insults like "baffoon", I now have an arsenal of 4-letter words - Colin, even you would drool.


6. Along with swearing like the Irish, drink like the Irish! The more vodkas and whiskeys you can keep down without turning blue, purple and all the rest, the better. Not to be taken lightly, this takes practice, lots and lots of practice.


7. Have a general disdain for rules and regulations - now, I am ashamed to say that I am struggling with this:( For crying out loud, I have a 9-5! I have never told my boss where to shove it, and you can actually count the number of "sick days" I've taken. I'm trying though, really trying!


8. Own endless pairs of denim! Denim is the fabric of pornstars, rock gods and all people generally off centre - wear it with pride, with holes and with detail!


9. And last and least, it may be a good idea to have some sort of musical bone in your body. This however is not a necessity, after all, what are producers for?