Since the mid-18^th Century, macedonia has also meant a salad, or, starting later in the same century, a vegetable salad, of disparate ingredients. It sometimes appears on menus as a macédoine, although then it tends to cost twice as much. The most likely explanation for its etymology is that the name alludes to the diverse origin of the people of Alexander’s Macedonian Empire. Others believe that it refers to the ethnic mixture in 19th century Ottoman Macedonia. The truth is that it applies equally well to the region known today as Macedonia, which is considered to include parts of six Balkan countries: all of North Macedonia, large parts of Greece and Bulgaria, and smaller parts of Albania, Serbia, and Kosovo.

From a fruit salad, it is but a short step to the word applying to any medley of unrelated things, not necessarily edible, which is indeed the meaning I am using here, to describe another of my occasional posts that offers a mish-mash of topics. So, we now have another word to add to gallimaufry, jambalaya, olla podrida and salmagundi. Not much use for Scrabble, but bound to impress a certain kind of person at a certain kind of dinner party.

There is, in fact, a sort of theme binding this week’s topics together; they are all things I have stumbled across in Israel over the last week. One is of the “only in Israel” variety; another is more “We’re not in England anymore, Toto” and the third is a “state of the nation” moment. Since this third one is by far the most depressing, let’s get it out of the way first.

Or, rather, second. Two weeks ago, I shared with you some of the highlights of what I told you had been an exceptional week. Indeed, I stated that my week “has been so action-packed that I am going to have to leave one entire topic over until next week”. Then ‘next week’ came with its own concerns – burnt-out sockets and heavy-duty furniture moving, you may remember – and the promised topic fell by the wayside. So, before we get properly underway, let me handle this piece of unfinished business.

What happened was that I played bridge. This may mot, in itself, seem very noteworthy, but I need to give you some context.

In my late teens and twenties, I played a lot of bridge…and I mean a lot. Among my circle of friends in Hanoar Hatzioni, we had a regular school. When I spent a year in Israel in 1968-69, for the five months I was based in Jerusalem I sometimes went with a partner to play at the International Youth Centre. When the partnership split up, I went on to play in college, and as part of my not very talented college team, while my partner went on to become an Israeli grandmaster. There’s the story of my life right there, in a nutshell.

In 1973, when Bernice and I volunteered on kibbutz in the immediate aftermath of the Yom Kippur war, I jeopardised our marital stability by playing bridge every evening, late into the night. Subsequently, I managed to get the habit under control, and, after our return to Wales, I taught Bernice, and a couple of much older friends, how to play, and we enjoyed a friendly game most weeks until we came on aliya. Since when – in other words for the last thirty eight and a half years – I have not picked up a card, or played a hand online. I have read the occasional newspaper bridge column, but I knew that I didn’t have the free time, and didn’t trust myself to risk lapsing. “My name is David and I am a bridge addict.”

In addition, of course, not having played since 1986, I knew nothing of modern bidding systems, and didn’t trust myself not to embarrass myself at the table.

However, what is now three weeks ago, I joined a school started by a fellow shulgoer, who had, over the previous year or so, been tutoring some absolute beginners. This seemed like, and has proved to be, a shallow enough pool to dip my toes into, while still being very enjoyable. I am attempting to teach myself Standard American, which seems a very straightforward and user-friendly bidding system.

As for play, I have found, even over the three weeks I have been playing, that my concentration is a little better than it was initially. I can no longer effortlessly remember all the honours that have been played, and how many cards are outstanding in each suit, but I do at least remember what the contract is! I can actually envisage myself improving my memory skills, to the point where they will be able to serve my playing skills, which I sense have diminished less over the years. Watch this space for the occasional update!

On a completely different note: Israel is currently in the throes of a dispute between the teachers and the Treasury over pay and terms of service. The government intended to impose a 3.3% cut in teachers’ pay, as part of pay cuts across the board in the public sector, in an effort to accommodate increases in defence spending. The government further proposed compensation for this cut, in the form of an increase in the number of days’ leave teachers enjoy. Currently, negotiations have reduced this 3.3% cut to 0.95%, a figure which the union has apparently agreed to.

I’d like to say that the dispute was thereby settled overnight last night (Wednesday night, 7 May), but, this being Israel, it is far too early to know whether disruptions have indeed ceased. Since the beginning of the week, some teachers have been ignoring the instructions from their trade union, and taking wildcat action. This has continued, in reduced form, today, with teachers’ rejecting the agreement reached by the union with the government, arguing that other public-service workers have received much more generous compensation. The teachers’ action has been in the form of phoning or messaging in sick at the start of the school day. The action has been widespread enough to force the closure of several hundred schools nationwide, with the accompanying disruption for working parents.

For two short periods, in the first years after we came on aliya, I taught in two different Jerusalem schools. I was very impressed by the dedication and professionalism of the teachers I worked alongside; their loyalty to the schools and their commitment to their pupils were inspiring.

In stark contrast, I am disappointed and, frankly, shocked, by the action of the teachers who are feigning sickness, and, thereby, obtaining money under false pretences. One such teacher was interviewed on radio earlier this week, and made the argument that years of being underpaid and under-regarded have indeed made her feel ill, and, therefore, her claiming sick leave is not dishonest. I am sure that she does not regard this as an argument that holds water; it is merely a figleaf. As one of the radio presenters said, he does not want his children to be taught by someone who is such a brazen liar as these teachers are.

I accept that their sense of grievance is genuine, and, indeed, it is quite possibly justified. However, I find myself asking this: If a pupil handed such a teacher a note from their parents explaining that their absence from school the previous day was because of illness, and the teacher had, in fact, seen the pupil in the mall during school hours the previous day, would the teacher address this with the pupil? And if the pupil argued the moral equivalence between their action and the teacher’s action, how would the teacher address that? If educators set their pupils a personal example by arguing that their subjective grievance justifies lying to their employer and obtaining money under false pretences, what hope is there for the next generation?

As if this were not enough, the reported response from the Treasury was to announce a plan to deduct pay from all teachers who have reported sick since the dispute began. So, we have a public sphere in which thousands of teachers believe that the end justifies the means, and that blatant lying is acceptable industrial action and at least one senior government minister believes all teachers are dishonest. Sadly, this is only one of the cracks in Israeli society today, but, for me, it is a big one.

Moving swiftly on, today and tomorrow the world celebrates the 80^th anniversary of VE Day, the end of hostilities in Europe in 1945. I see from the media that this has been widely and enthusiastically – and with justification – celebrated in Britain. The occasion was also marked on Israel radio this morning, with a feature on the news and current affairs morning program. However, unlike in Britain, where, as we all know, having grown up there, the credit for the victory in Europe lies, this feature focussed exclusively on the Soviet army’s advance across Europe, liberation of death camps, and capture of key cities. ‘My truth’ is, it would appear, alive and well, at the national as well as the personal level.

In Israel, as in Russia, many, many proud veterans of the campaigns of the Second World War annually parade on 9 May, proudly displaying their medals.

And finally. I saw a WhatsApp status this morning with the following message (redacted as necessary):

– XXXX Medical Company! Our frontline task is to save lives

Required for military reserve duty

Looking for:

Combat skill level XX and above

Combat medics

Drivers with Hummer and ambulance permits

Good people with a desire to lend a hand!

For details – Oded: Tel: 052XXXXXXX

If you were wondering what ‘a volunteer army’ means in practice, when, for the first time since 1948, a war goes on and on for months and years, now you know.