A diverse offering twixt the interesting, the unusual, and the amusing.
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 went with friends to the Scallop festival in Whitianga; a charming
seaside town in the Coromandal District.
Had a great time...5000 people, lots of wine...
3 years 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 is very welcome.
I was born just south of London, but for the past 44 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), a Border Collie/Black Lab' cross called Bok, a cat called Freddie, 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!