I was talking to a parent in the Yard the other day about what Lieutenant George from Blackadder Goes Forth might call ‘coming a cropper’, or the process of going ‘goose over stumps’… Namely, boys in a solo performance situation who hit considerable difficulties, make a series of errors, fluff their notes or who even have to stop, and then have to pick themselves back up to complete the piece.

Words: That words matter is a truism. Words matter in terms of our labelling and deciphering of the world. (To what extent something actually exists to us, if there is no word for it, is an interesting point of reflection with which to challenge the thinking of some of our older boys.)

As I sit down to write my piece for this week’s newsletter, I find my situation acting as a microcosm of what happens in the national press on a daily, sometimes hourly basis; holding a mirror to two things which are at the root of so many problems within the national discourse.  

Optimism. A sometimes maligned word, thanks to the fact that some folk endow it with overtones of naïveté and whispy scents of a goggle-eyed refusal to look hard facts in the face.