More Tales of the OLC

It has been quite busy in the Open Learning Centre. Everyone is getting ready for Christmas, having just got over Sint Nicolas. Hence this fine Christmas tree, placed and decorated by my colleague Gerry (a girl's name in Holland). Gerry works three days and I do two. Consequently we don't see much of each other. It's a bit like the old joke about the two Japanese sewage workers who saw each other only in passing when one came on shift as the other came off. In 40 years they had never spoken. When one retired he was asked to define this tepid relationship. "We were just Nips that passed in the shite". Gerry is great and is always decorating the OLC to make it as pleasant and warm as possible. We now have a system for booking students in, consisting of an elecric pen to tick them as they arrive. The fact that most then go out again is irrelevant to the system. A rather stunning girl with  dusky, south-american looks stood before me and I enquired her name. She said she was Jennifer Lopez, and I told her I was Paul McCartney and would she please stop pissing about as we were rather busy and there were lots of other students waiting to register. I was using my Basil Fawlty alter ego. Right, since most of your class is in, we'll see who we have left, shall we? Scans down electronic list. Lopez, Jeniffer, 17, Class MQZZ. Oh "Lopez". You see I thought you said "Ftqwmunch". Red face as Jennifer Lopez walks away muttering that Paul McCartney is good-looking, so no chance of confusion.

Students do specialised things, like learning how to look after handicapped children etc. They also do general things like art and languages. The art teacher asked them to paint something abstract but which had some bearing on the speciality they were following. Jochem, a jolly lad doing things with babies and midwifery, painted this masterpiece.

It is entitled "Despair, with Embryos".

One last thing before I forget. Sometimes girls enter the OLC carrying huge bags of stuff, crash helmets, shopping, coats, scarves etc. Sometimes they just go and sit at a table in a group without taking thier coats off, presumably because they have no work to do but are forced to be here because I book them in, and they stay because a teacher with a list may put in an appearance to see if they are all still here. The fact that they are doing nothing is not part of the check. Here they must be and here they will stay. Last Friday, I encountered the ultimate in this trend of being here without a purpose. Two ladies entered dressed in black leather. They had black gauntlets on thier hands and crash helmets on thier heads. They looked like something out of Judge Dread or I Robot. To my astonishment, they sat at a table, difficult as they both had backpacks on with all thier books, so could only sit by leaning forward and slumping face down onto the table. They then proceeded to communicate very loudly. It was a bit like deep sea divers, or space-men. You can only hear each other if your helmets are touching. For the sake of peace and good order, I approached them, but could not get thier attention. Eventually I rapped sharply on the helmets and enquired if they might be able to hear each other better if they removed a helmet or two. They replied that they would be able to go home in a mere 35 minutes, so it wasn't really worth the trouble, was it. I pointed out that most people come here to do some work, at which point one of the robots slumped over a computer and tried to log on. The gloves made it difficult as one finger covered six keys, and they gave up.

As indeed should I.

PS - Adam, I found this super guitar on Marktplaats. Cost 100 euries, on a fancy stand that itself sells for 125 new. OK, it's only the cheap Ovation ("Applause") but plays fine. It's a bit shallow from front to back, so not a lot of volume, but sounds great if you get your ear over the sound hole. I don't play by ear myself, so I haven't actually heard myself play. Alright, I'm off..
Next episode - the amazing Santa Claus evening.