Hell has eight-day weeks

At least think of the children.

China isn’t just a rather unpleasant authoritarian empire that resembles a coop full of retarded chickens. It’s also one of those countries in the world where human decency happens to other people. My first National Day Holiday here was preceded by an eight-day week, but the key word is “preceded”.

We had a few days off over New Year, but because of the miserable, puritanical attitude of the empire’s tyrant overlords to time off, we lost last weekend. I can well remember that first eight-day week and how trying it was, but at least it preceded the holiday. This one followed, and the benefits of having a few days off came to nothing before last weekend was even over.

We also had exams this week, but the combination of marking, dull, tiresome invigilations, pointless babysitting classes, and general end-of-term ennui was enough to have us wilting.

I hate to think what it was like for my students.

And at last we look out over the plains of the weekend and know that if we do have time off, it’s only going to be because we fell asleep in spite of ourselves, and not because we could afford to be so cavalier. I’m sorely tempted to go into class next week and announce, “I just don’t care.” This, though, isn’t news.

There has been drama this week as well. Mr Looms got so hammered that he slept through all of his alarms on the first day of the exams. Mr Bradford felt sufficiently ill not to come in at all on that occasion, and didn’t appear again today. He can afford not to care, though. There’s also other news which is no surprise, but which hasn’t been officially announced. I only know of it myself by accident.

But tonight, if not much of the rest of the weekend, I’m just larking about.