More con-Fusion

The evening streets were empty, Pompey were playing at home, a big game, FA cup against Liverpool. It seemed like everyone was either in the stands at Fratton Park or in bars or pubs with tellies. Pompey lost, but I know the fans enjoyed the game because I could hear them chanting and roaring even though Austen and Sue live quite a way from the football ground.

The Tangs seem to have bought Rositas. Rositas used to be Margheritas, a little Italian family restaurant. Now there is a difference between the Chinese food experience and the mediterranean one. When you eat in at a Chinese restaurant, you get efficient but almost invisible service, that's the Chinese way, but when you go to an Italian restaurant, you get welcomed into the family. Ideally there will be a round little Italian man or woman in charge of everything and you feel their love of food, wine and company as you go in the door. Tapas can be slightly less enfolding, but nonetheless, Spanish waiters are very attentive, they make eye contact, they also exude love for the food and sangria they serve. Now, you begin to see the dilemma. We don't want to lose Tang's, it is VERY good Chinese food, but if the owners have over-stretched themselves trying to run an Italian turned Spanish place.... doesn't bear thinking about. And lo, as I walk past Rositas, ok, it was match night, but the place was almost empty, a fluffy-haired Chinese waiter making himself invisible at the end of the bar. Austen says it has been like that for a while. Some fusion is doomed, doomed I tell ye!

David Cameron, brand new leader of the Conseravtive party, is a very clever man. He has grabbed even my attention. He has praised Tony to high heaven, said that he was the man, the man with the vision who led the country abley through the 90's and beyond. Now he, leader of the Tory party, is his rightful heir. Cunning huh? Very, very cunning, like a fox.

Yesterday I was in the market for another meal deal, but wanted to go to Sainsburys for something else, so I checked out the sarnies there. We are an industrious nation in general, I truly believe that, but when it comes to food prep, as I have said before, not so enthusiastic. I had forgotten just what an amazing range of ready made sarnies was available, I could have had a triple for two quid, chicken jalfrezi, chicken korma and chicken tikka. I was tempted, but settled for ploughman's, one pound seventy and real Branston pickle.

Austen is writing reports. Dear god I don't miss that. I know I've frequently ranted before about the hours you do in teaching, but I am going to indulge myself in a full on rant. My most basic working week when I was teaching, was 50 hours, that's 50 hours in school, no lunch and twice a week no morning break either. On top of that, the stuff you had to do at home or outside of school time, writing reports, parents' evenings, open evenings, meetings at other schools, a myriad of other paperwork that there is no time for, schemes of work, lesson plans, evaluations, references, writing up lesson observations, marking, endless bloody marking, assessments. Several members of my department would come in to school every single day of the week to keep on top of paperwork and so that they could go away during so called holidays. The government has been trying to deal with the workload of teachers and there have been improvements, but to reach their goal of the number of hours a teacher should work in a week, they would have to double the workforce. It's not going to happen, they can't get enough people to enter and stay in the profession as it is - some even go five thousand miles away to escape the British education system. Later today, I'm going back into the lion's cage for a visit, watch this space :)