September 1968 and my first term at high school. Mr Ashcroft, our almost retired English teacher, decided that we should read ‘A Tale of two Cities’ by Charles Dickens. I didn’t have a problem reading the words, but there was an enormous problem for the class to understand the meaning of the story. Prior to this I had been an avid reader - of anything Enid Blyton wrote, so I’m sure you can imagine my dilemma. I can’t remember (well it is a long time ago!) either discussing or writing anything about the book. All we did was ‘read it round the class’ a paragraph at a time. How not to do it!
Mr Ashcroft was, I’m sure, asleep in the corner. His very presence in the room was enough to maintain perfect order. That, and the ‘slipper’ he kept on his desk. Just in case…
I didn’t understand the book then, and I haven’t been tempted to read it since!
Anyway, I digress. The subject of my post should more accurately be ‘A Tale of Two Rooms’. Over the past week my nest has been rearranged.
Rhiannon is back living at home, albeit in a different bedroom, while she looks round for a suitable house to buy. Her room is smaller than her old room but does have the benefit of an adjacent shower room! Yesterday she started her new job, much closer to home, so won’t have the best part of two hours travelling each day.
Tom is back at
for his final year and is awaiting the arrival of some interesting house mates. He can’t wait to be busy, especially after the excitement of his time in Lancaster University Colorado and . Japan
We are hoping that the coming year will be happy and successful for them both. Perhaps I can quote selectively from Charles Dickens with the opening lines of 'A Tale of Two Cities' …
It was the best of times,
it was the worst of times,
it was the age of wisdom,
it was the age of foolishness,
it was the epoch of belief,
it was the epoch of incredulity,
it was the season of Light,
it was the season of Darkness,
it was the spring of hope,
it was the winter of despair,
we had everything before us…