Just released a new
video on Robs Oxford. This one is about a school teacher who turned the
tables by starting a strict and very successful free school in inner London.
Her name if Katharine Birbalsingh and, naturally, she was a student at Oxford,
attending New College in the 90’s. It was there that she realised that she wanted
to be a teacher and a decade of plying her trade in inner London taught her
that something was fundamentally wrong, so she started a school to fix it.
It’s a short video of about ten minutes concentrating mostly
on the years she spent at her college in my city, but also providing a brief
introduction to her Michaela Community School.
Have a look, there are mentions of a couple of famous music groups that
were just beginning in her time plus a rather sweet picture of a poodle!
On a more personal note, here’s a recollection of a good
night out with Margaret in this city of dreaming spires. We returned to Oxford
from Stow on the Wold to visit the Gardner’s Arms which is just a minute or so
from our flat. Lee Bo, a man I much admire, holds an open mike session there and
attracts some excellent acts. But he wasn’t there! It was just five pm and the
place was full of youngish people shouting loudly at each other. The nonchalant
barman told me that Lee was at the Jericho Fair so we ventured into nearby Jericho
where we expected to find a street fair, but there was none. We had a very good
pint of Timothy Taylor Landlord in the Bookbinders which was also full, but the
people there were not so shouty. There was however a group of sozzled senior
men huddled together attempting to sing “What shall we do with the drunken
sailor” but did not know the words. I could have helped, but at that time of
day – no! Even though the beer had begun
to take hold – no!
We went in search of the fair, but walking alongside the
canal realised it was not in Jericho at all but in Aristotle Lane, a good way away. Also, by
the look of the people returning, it was clearly mostly for kids and not for us.
However, a quick probe with my phone revealed that Lightning Willy and the Poor
Boys were playing at the Harcourt Arms later that night! We are fans of the
blues and Willy is a true blues man so that looked great.
We walked to the nearby Victoria pub with a vague intention
to eat there. However, the place had only one ale on that evening and it was
not good, plus the pie menu was restricted and more than double the price that
we used to pay. So we went home, grabbing the nearest thing to fish and chips
from the local Sainsburys plus a few bottles of Landlord.
Replete, we straggled back to Jericho and the Harcourt at
about nine and squeezed into the packed pub. There, Lightning Willy with his
Poor Boys were already banging out beautiful blues whilst looking like a crowd
of out-of-work cowboys: he with his bristling thick white moustache and all.
They were great, we managed to find a spot in the crowd where we could see the
performance, and there was certainly no problem hearing them. I stuffed in the
usual bits of tissue to protect my ears and was carried away by the music plus
more beer whilst watching the crush of dancers in front of that excellent band.
What a night. I love it when things start badly, then
inexplicably turn into an unmissable event. Could it, I wonder, be beer that
makes this possible?
