Summer-y 2023
It’s the last day of the summer holidays. Somehow we’re already three days deep into September. Tomorrow the alarm is set for before 6am again and, for the first time in over a month, the early wake-up is not because exciting travel awaits (or because we got confused between Mountain Time, Standard Mountain Time, Utah time and Arizona time) but because of an imminent commute. Traffic, stress and responsibility. The earmarks of the working week. But unlike so many previous years staring back into the face of the start of another term, this year I am not full of dread and dreariness. I am excited. My first September in my new school. My first full year as a full-time permanent member of staff there instead of a temporary maternity cover. New challenges and new experiences. A new form, new classes, and teaching some new topics. My nerves are tingling, but it’s excitement rather than anxiety. This summer break has done what summer breaks are supposed to do: recharge and reset.
And what a summer break! San Francisco, Yosemite, Kings Canyon, Sequoia, Los Angeles, Palm Springs, Sedona, Lake Powell, Antelope Canyon, Moab, Bryce Canyon, The Grand Canyon, Zion, Las Vegas, London, Windermere, Wembley, Keswick… we drove thousands of miles across the USA, saw so many epic sights at the National Parks, got to see the Red Sox play the Giants in San Francisco, Hannah Einbinder and Sarah Silverman (among others) do standup at the UCB in LA, Piff the Magic Dragon and RuPaul’s Drag Race Live in Vegas, and - once back in the UK - see the Mrs Doubtfire musical in London, the beauty of the Lake District, a hilarious production of the 39 Steps at Keswick’s Theatre By The Lake, and be two of the 81,035 people there live in person to see AEW’s UK/European debut at the spectacular All In event at Wembley Stadium. And, of course, like the rest of the universe, we saw Barbie and Oppenheimer too! And, because I am a child despite my age, the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie too!
In other words - work has been the furthest thing from my mind and it has been a real break. Not quite another sabbatical, but not not a sabbatical either. Even going into school for A-level results day, and spending the morning of GCSE results day battling with poor signal and no WiFi in the middle of the Lake District to check our results (as well as several days, including today, working on lesson plans and admin for the new term) didn’t really turn the attention back to work to the extent that the break was overshadowed. This has been a really restorative summer.
It’s also been nice to hear some nice things coming in about the new book now people have started reading it. People seem to really like it. And in October/November I shall be doing a bit more proper promotion of it and visiting anarchist/radical book fairs in London, Peterborough and Manchester, as well as talking to students at my school about anarchism in general and doing a few podcasts. I’ve even had some invites to play a few shows in France, which I am trying to sort logistics out for in my head for 2024. In the meantime, here’s a new '“Live in an empty room” set I did a few weeks ago after getting myself a new bass pedal and messing around with the nice new sound it gave my tired equipment…
As I say in the notes to the video on YouTube - thanks to the Jam Room guy at the awesome Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas for the advice about the pedal (wish I knew his name!) Highly recommended for anyone in the Vegas area with an interest in punk!
But yeah - as the Manges sing: “summer’s gone and I can’t stop loving you”. The you in question? My wife. She was with me for all of it. Nature too. The mountains, the rivers, the lakes and creeks, the forests, the waterfalls, the animals we shared our adventures with and which made the adventures possible. The National Parks, both in the US and the UK. The magicians, wrestlers, comedians, musicians and actors whose creativity and passion entertained us all summer long. The writers whose words we read over long, lazy afternoons and evenings. And the summer itself. That beautiful privilege we have as teachers to pause each year and take stock. To review and re-energise. To reflect and indulge.
It’s autumn now. Work beckons once again. The boiler’s playing up. We already had to fix a roof during the break but the kitchen is falling apart. The shower door isn’t working. Some of our lights are on the blink. Chores need doing. Normal life resumes.
But we can face it, nourished by the memories and moments of the last six weeks.
