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Saturday, 24 August 2013
Cro & Co; Architects to the Rich and Famous!
Before leaving school, I wanted to become an Architect.
I applied to an Architectural School that was connected to The Art College in Brighton; it came highly recommended, and had an excellent reputation.
I was accepted onto the 3 year course, and some time later I received a letter from The Principal asking me to go down to meet him. I organised the three trains required.
After my interview my mother was to pick me up, I'd stay the weekend at my parent's nearby south-coast home, then take the train back to school on the Sunday afternoon. There were still about three weeks of term-time left.
At my interview The Principal suddenly showed a nasty 'chip-on-shoulder' attitude, and began to attack the type of schooling I'd received.
"Don't think you're going to come here, and design bloody great multi-million pound mansions for your old Public School chums in Windsor or Henley-on-Thames" he shouted. "Architecture is all about SEWERS; that's what we'll teach you.... SEWERS, SEWERS".
I don't think I'd ever encountered such overt class-hatred before, and I instantly realised that 3 years spent studying under such an evil inverted-snob would be impossible.
"Well, you can stuff your fucking SEWER course" I told him. "And I shall now consider other non-fucking-SEWER related options". I think I even slammed the door behind me.
My mother was not happy with my having rejected his course (I didn't tell her the exact words I'd employed); she'd been going around telling all her friends that I was going to be a famous Architect (as all mothers would).
So, that's why I became a 'Blue Button' Stockbroker instead. I'm sure he was much happier without me on his fucking SEWER course; although I can't say I was particularly happy in The City. But that's another story.
Am I a frustrated Architect? No, I don't think so, but I'm still fuming about his horrible attitude; hence THIS, all those years later!
WE TRICKED AND WE TREATED ..........
*Actually, we just walked around the streets for a couple of hours and
there wasn't a lot of tricking going on !!! I was given the job of
1 week ago
The difference between an optimist and a pessimist, is that the optimist enjoys himself whilst waiting for the inevitable! I AM that optimist!
This is a daily, optimistic, 'photos and comments' blog. I make no judgements (only occasionally), just notes. If you wish to comment in any way at all, please feel free. Everything and everyone (except the obdurate and dictatorial) is very welcome.
I was born just south of London, but for the past 46 years I've lived in S W France. I am a painter by profession, and writer by desire. Lady Magnon and I live in an ancient cottage, in a tiny village, in perfectly tranquil countryside. We have a vegetable garden called 'Haddock's' (this may crop up from time to time), plenty of fruit trees, and a view that takes the breath away. I try to treat our planet with respect, and encourage others to do likewise (without preaching).
Contentment is a glass of red, a plate of charcuterie, and a slice of good country bread. Perfect!