My New Job

I have a splendid job. It does not involve a great deal of thought or responsibilty, but I really enjoy it. I am, I'll have you know, a Technical Teaching Assistant in charge of the Open Learning Centre. It is a few rooms containing around 50 computers, loads of DVDs and books. I sit at my desk copying video tapes onto DVD and waiting until the customers need my help. And looking important. Sometimes it is very quiet, at other times it is a cattle pen. Thousands of teenage girls pour in and fight for a computer. When they leave the floors and tables are covered in empty packets of crisps, drinks cartons, half eaten sandwiches and the keybords are sticky with mayonaisse and ketchup. I wait, looking important, until called upon to do my magic. Like fixing a jammed stapler or explaining why paper with two holes is a bad choice for a binder with three rings. And stop calling me Mister. My name is Spike. Alright, Mister Spike. It is great fun and unpredictable Events of great excitement occur quite regularly. Today the laminating machine caught fire while a student was sealing a piece of work that rivalled the Sistine Chapel for work input. It's making a 'orrible smell Mister Spike. She made the blunder of turning the machine off, stopping therefore the motors that draw the masterpiece into, and, more relevantly, out of the overheated machine. The work melted and caught fire. Hours of work down the drain. You have to laugh, don't you.















This is part of the OLC before the inward stampede. In a few minutes it will be filled with squealing young ladies. Me? Fifth Duke of Woppington, on my own, in the daytime, in a room full of teenage girl students? With my reputation? Are they quite mad?

My desk is by the door, a strategic position where I can all parts of the OLC and control entry and exit.

This is my mate, Herman Dood.























And this is my locker.
Anyhoo, it is late and I am off to bed. I will keep more in touch. Love to all.