Hellish, inhospitable working conditions? Just the usual at Temple Moor.

Ah, nearly a week without blogging. It's good to be back.

So, the title should say a lot of this for me. Hellish and inhospitable working conditions? What could I be talking about?

Two tales, both of which occured in today at one of the (allegedly) "Best Schools in the District" - following a lesson on the upper floors of the main school block, as the bell rang for break, the entire class flooded out into the corridor. It seemed unusually smoky for this time of day. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it... that's when it hit me. Why the hell is the corridor filled with mysterious wispy smoke?
Several theories emerged, some more logical than others.

1) Another mishap on the building site. It wouldn't surprise me in the least, but the question is, what could have caused the smoke? It didn't appear thick enough to be engine smoke from failing machinary, in which case, I don't see what else could have caused it.
2) A chemical spill. No, not another Chlorine Leak (although that's only a matter of time), but a small scale science block spillage. The chemicals must've reacted pretty nicely to make that much smoke though, making this thoery illogical - chemicals don't seem to react properly in most planned experiments, so why would it succeed via an accidental spillage?
3) Weed. Not the plant that takes over your garden, the weed that alters your perception of reality. Hint hint. Although I can't see anyone being that brazen about taking drugs in a school corridor, especially when it makes that much smoke.
4) This is my personal favourite. The return of Epic Fail Guy, and his epic fail experiments. Maybe he accidently concocted a lethal acid from an experiment involving nothing but straws and lime water. It wouldn't be unlike this particular teacher.

If none of the above theories prove true, then the smoke's origin may be forever unknown. Which isn't exactly encouraging.

Oh, and tale number two.

It can be heard from the Art Block. It can be heard from the Sixth Form Block. Heck, it can be heard from Outer Mongolia. It's the annoyingly, unneccessarily loud drilling equipment used by our amazing *cough!* polish immigrants workers. Woops, that should be "building specialists".

It makes lessons near the building site more interesting, but not for the right reasons. You can't just hear it, but for people near, you can feel it. Sure it's an excuse for not concentrating, but after a few minutes, it loses it's appeal and becomes damn annoying.

It may not sound like much, but for a high school, having abnormally smoky corridors and incessent drilling that shakes the buildings about isn't a good thing.

Expect more tales of woe soon, Templars.

Jobs: Competency and Intelligence not required.

Ah, my first time posting for your viewing pleasure. Not because I haven't had much to blog about, as there are always mistakes, cock-ups, and frankly unbelievable goings-on at Temple Moor, but because I was waiting for something more than a mis-labelled bin, astonishing new uses for the humble sticky note, or a Headteacher (I refuse to acknowledge the term "Principal") who is determined to assassinate us. This particular post may not be as comedic as some, but it's something that must be brought to light - after all, our intention is to tell you what the newsletters do not. And I'm relatively sure that the newsletters have never mentioned the fact that the office staff are incompetent morons.

First, let me take you back to the first day back of school - it was only a two-hour day, and all we had to do is collect our new planners (correct the mistakes in them as well, of course), find out our new timetable (And correct that too), and last but not least, note our bus and group numbers for Lightwater Valley. But, in a manner that I should have predicted, the school managed to screw it all up. Not for everyone, though. Just for me (well, me and a few others).

I was positively delighted to hear that the school had stupidly missed my name off the list. So, assuming it was a simple mistake, I headed off to the Isolation block to tell them their mistake, and find out my bus number. I sat there waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And finally, someone took the time out to speak to me (I swear they kept me sat there so long for a laugh.).

They were happy to check the system... oh wait, no, apparently I didn't pay my money. Which is utter bollocks. So they interrogate me over it in a way befitting Nazi Germany Gestapos, before wasting my parent's time by phoning them to confirm they too remember sending in the money. They did. Grudgingly (which was a laugh and a half - if anyone had a right to hold a grudge, it'd be me), they agreed to let me go on the trip. Unfortunately, it involved travelling on a bus full of Year 10s. (Another note on the matter, is that the 'system' - which I believe to be a network of Polish Immigrants writing information on sticky-notes - did not know a) what year group I was in, or b) What form I was in.)

Screw that, I thought, I'd be much happier staying at home. And so, after an hour-long arguement with the incompetent fools who had pocketted my money before denying it had ever been delivered, we were back to the starting point - me not going to Lightwater Valley. But this is Temple Moor, stuff like this is par for the course. But, now just a few weeks in at best, the school decided that it was about time to stage another cockery.

The list of full-attendees arrived... without my bloody name on it, despite the fact I haven't missed a day yet! So I go to the Office to point out their mistake (shades of pre-Lightwater Valley), and they can't understand how it happened. Their marvellous 'system' had me down as being a full-attender. And yet the list printed directly out of said system claimed I was not. Hilarious. What made matters worse is that other people (who's attendance was self-admittedly the same or lower than my own) happened to make this list. Why wasn't I on it? I didn't dare ask, I wouldn't want to give the trained monkeys that work in the offices such a tricky brain-teaser so early in the week.

How long before the school next try to toy with my mind? I'm not sure. But I'm sure I can combine all my collected stories of incomptence, idiocy, lies, and ignorance, and sell them on to the press for a reasonable price. But for now, at least, all your Templar Related mishaps are exclusive to our own blog.