Saturday 20th October
The day had to come. The baptism. The initiation. The first day of training for the BASSC Stage Combat Teacher Training Programme was upon us. For the past year, this moment has loomed, black-clad and bearded, upon the horizon. Now, finally, it was a reality.
And it began - as all serious ventures should - with a cup of tea and a biscuit.
The chosen venue for this first weekend was DSL, which I was all in favour of, being a ten minute bus ride from my house. This morning though, I shunned the bus in favour of the gentle jog advocated by my physio, and arrived feeling righteous, pumped up and ready to drink tea.
There are four of us on the course, all reasonably of an age, all with comparable stage combat experience, all very diffferent in style and all far to quick to revert to being naughty schoolboys the moment we found ourselves sitting, notebooks on laps, in DSL's airy front room. Our guide, mentor, master and commander, the notorious Philip of Death, had planned the day to be spent largely in discussion around our own individual approaches to the Training Programme and to teaching, and the day's work involved a good deal of writing in marker pens on big sheets of paper, then talking about what we'd written. All very intellectually stimulating and rather jolly, and not the bone-breaking practical drilling through technique that I was expecting.
That comes tomorrow.
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