local warming

Here’s the thing – I think a lot about global warming. It’s something I feel is very important. However, up until yesterday anyway, it’s all been a bit virtual for me. I’ve watched reports on the long term effects, seen maps of England with East Anglia submerged, listened to accounts from Inuit communities whose lives are being directly effected, I’ve been horrified by the suffering caused by natural disasters – but it’s all been so far away (either in time or space.) As far as the right here, right now is concerned all I’ve noticed is a distinct lack of snow and a bit more rainfall. Not overly immediate.

Not until yesterday that is.It was a news story towards the end of the report on five live (on AM, FM, online at BBC.co.uk, digital radio, freeview, sky, virgin media, and tapped out in Morse Code on your water pipes) about how the Giants Causeway was at risk of being swept away due to climate change. The Giant’s Causeway? Swept away? That’s a bit major – and it’s happening less than ten miles away. Apparently within fifty years Ireland’s most famous basalt stones could have been removed by stronger than usual wave and tidal action brought on by global warming. For the vast majority of the world’s population this news would be but a mild tickle in the back of the throat – but for those of us who’ve grown up in this area, who’ve taken for granted that fact that we live right beside a world heritage site, who’ve used the old GC as a sole source of bragging rights… this is earth shattering – literally.

The iconic world heritage site, one of the province's biggest tourist attractions, will be under threat if sea levels rise and storms worsen, said the National Trust conservation organisation, which owns and manages the site. The report warned that the site was at risk from coastal erosion and flooding over this century.

I love the Giant’s Causeway. It’s a special place. The stones that project into the North Sea don’t actually do it for me – although that’s what brings the tourists. I love the feel of the place, the way the breeze tries to throw you off the cliff, the way the sun wets over the ocean, the way everything looks like an amazing photograph. When I go walking up there with friends who don’t live in the area they are always amused that I greet everyone I pass – local or tourist. They can’t get over the fact that someone so moody and reserved is so friendly when on the cliff walk. I tell them it’s an unofficial tourist board ruling, that we have to project the stereotypical Irish personality so that the Americans will go home and tell everyone how friendly we are. I tell them that but really I just feel better when I’m breathing the fresh air surrounded by glorious creation. When I feel better I feel friendlier – I want to share the joy.

The idea of that ceasing to exist within my possible lifetime is an incredible, terrible thing. I would be sullen and miserable all the time, and you wouldn’t like me when I’m sullen and miserable.

coleraine in the snow

have yourself a merry little christmas

There’s something about the last day of term that fills me with Christmas spirit. I don’t know why it is but I’m pretty much humbug up to this point. The best attempts of corporate society to fill my waking thoughts with everything yuletide are wasted on me until the last few hours of school.

I’m good at hiding it. I play Christmas music in some of my classes – though I tend to favour cheesy Christmas jazz over cheesy Christmas pop - I smile and reciprocate when people wish me seasons greetings; I bit my tongue when Ballymena Borough Council put up their Christmas lights in early November; to all intents and purposes I appear to join in fully. The truth, however, is that I’m just not feeling it.

Today, though, I am feeling it. I look at the kids arriving for the Christmas disco with tinsel in their hair and presents in their hands and it warms my heart that they are having fun. I look out across the frost covered houses surrounding the school and I dream of snow drifting slowly on a crisp Christmas morning. Isn’t creation wonderful? I sit here and think about what Christmas represents and what it means for the future of the human race and suddenly I crack a genuine smile for the first time in ages.

I don’t know if I will be adding anything here between now and Christmas day. If not I would like to take this opportunity to wish you a joyous and blessed Christmas, it truly is a magical time of the year.

good will to all men

The last week of school – traditionally film week. Some teachers have been letting their pupils watch films since the end of last week but I’ve been holding out until today. This is mainly because I only have three movies they’d actually want to watch. I’ve often thought of introducing them to Kieslowski’s finest works but I’m worried they’d think the subtitles were an attempt to make them do work surreptitiously.

Sub teaching is a tough job at the best of times, but at this time of year it really is a nightmare. Imagine facing thirty angry teens who have no intention of doing what you ask them to do. Imagine the look of bemusement, nea, amused disbelief on their faces as you start to hand out their books, the snorts of indignation as you begin to write on the board. Imagine the howls of protest that drown out your instructions… It really isn’t worth the hassle, nor the stress headache which accompanies it. I want to make it to the holidays in one piece.

I remember with fondness the days I took small groups of pupils. I used to introduce them to the joys of scrabble and chess; partly to exercise their logic and vocabulary and partly because playing novices gave me a chance of actually winning occasionally. My less than noble motives were soon foiled as most of the kids became extraordinarily good at these games in a very short time. I’m not convinced I could use the same techniques today. I’m not sure I’d be able to pacify thirty sullen teenagers with board games and cries of “well done. You win again.”

Which is why I am writing this in semi darkness while my class watch ‘Ghostbusters.’ At least it’s educational – sort of. They mention scientific stuff sometimes and that’s good enough for me. But before you judge me please take a moment and consider the alternative.

where have all the blogs gone?

I've been feeling a bit bad lately. I've been letting this blog slide in an alarming way. It's not really a sudden thing - I've been slowing up for a while now. I remember when I started I wrote the first 100 posts by the end of November (a little under 4 months after starting) It was another 11 months before I reached 200.

I did feel bad - that is until I noticed that I'm not the only one. Practically everyone I read appears to be taking a break. Some for a week or so, some for months - even Dave hasn't added anything for ten days (of course in that instance it may be because he has better things to be doing right now)

Where are you all and why have you stopped? Has the blogging bubble burst in your life? Have you run out of things to write about? I sometimes feel a bit like that. Recently I have been putting all of my creative juices into writing a play for my year nines to peform and thinking of witty comments to put at the end of my marking. What's your excuse?

Please stop trying, stop trying, and stop trying again

And Robert the Bruce was inspired, or so the story goes. It had been a hard time for him by all accounts. He's watched his army suffer horrendous defeat time and time again to Edward I's english rabble. He'd seen three of his brothers murdered, his wife imprisoned and he'd been forced to run away and hide in a little cave. Locals here will tell you that the cave was on Rathlin Island, just off the Antrim Coast.

As he sat in the gloom he found himself watching a spider - well there wasn't much on TV back then. He watched the spider intricately weaving its silk into a beautiful pattern and then as it tried to spin the web across the space to the other side of the cave - surely impossible Brucie thought. And so it seemed; for the spider failed miserably. "A bit like me Army" thought Bruce. However, instead of giving up and hiding in a cave somewhere the spider had another go - and failed. Again the spider tried to cross the gap - and again it failed, and again and again and again. But then something incredible happened. On its seventh attempt the little brute managed to reach the other side of the cave. Its persistence filled RTB with a new spirit - one which cried out 'Try! Try! And try again!' So inspired was he that he immediately set about rebuilding his army and led Scotland to a famous victory against the English.

I, on the other hand, am not so motivated by this little story. So, will someone please tell the spider hiding behind the wing mirror of my car to give up already! Twice a day I have to clear the mess away so I can actually see the mirror. Sheesk!

200 not out

Post number 200 - and I can't think of anything to say. Typical!