Oh dear, more cuts at the town hall. Things must be bad.
This time it’s the turn of our voluntary groups. David Cameron’s caring Conservatism hasn’t quite trickled down from Notting Hill to Katharine Street.
Looks like the former council leader Tony Newman and the new commander in chief Mike Fisher use different calculators. Neither can agree on how bad our council’s financial predicament is or who is to blame.
I wasn’t too good at maths either when I was at school. I preferred to put my efforts into subjects that would help me get somewhere in life.
My understanding of didactic messages and the rhythms of Siegfried Sassoon’s World War One poetry gave the career boost that I needed.
Now I hear a Scottish examination authority is accepting answers written in so-called text speak – the impenetrable, electronic language spotty youths send each other via their mobile phones while stood three feet apart from each other. GR8, as they say.
Candidates will be given marks for demonstrating their knowledge of subjects, but marks for spelling and grammar will be dropped.
Which leads me neatly to our college’s splendid awards ceremony, which was held at Fairfield Halls last week.
The long-suffering Mrs Dayan and I were there to cheer on our nephew, who has completed a course in something arty.
The first tranche of awards were given to students of media courses, video production and the like. There were tons of them.
Next up was the building and engineering students – all four of them. I don’t want to question the merits of anyone’s educational qualifications, but I got the feeling somethins wasn’t right.
As Mrs Dayan observed – it looks like we’re in for lots more television in the future but less new buildings to watch them in.