An Undeserved Lift of the Bat

I noticed last time that I was on 99 posts. This is the century! Think Atherton, Ealham, Butcher, Hussein. As we all know, this blog is all egotism, so it's time to give something back. I decided to throw you all dear readers a little party. Seeing as we are all in different places this is a photo record of what may, possibly, might have happened.

Yeah something like that, probably.

love love love x

It's Getting Boring by the Sea #2

I don't want to talk about it. Instead, let's continue on our adventure into the mysteries of the Spanish pensuila, and it is Spanish, forget it Portugal.

The Basque Country

FAMOUS FOR: Competitive Wood Chopping, Mullets, ETA
FAMOUS PEOPLE: Ignatius of Loyola (founder of the Jesuits), Leopold Eyharts (Astronaut), Xabi Alonso

The fiercly independent Basques are survivors, whether it Romans, Charlemange or Francoists the Basques are still here. They are an ancient people who were here long before there was anything like a Spain, but for some reason they never spread happy to live in the mountains and by the coast in the north. They speak the mysterious Euskara the oldest living language in Europe and possibly the world with no links to any other langauge. Despite this they haven't been independent since the Romans. Some want this to change with a minorty resorting to violence in the form of ETA, who now are a largely defeated organisation. Most are happy to be left to govern themselves and for the Spainish to keep their noses out. Everything is political in the Basque country. They have a national football team which plays unofficial friendlies but they are unable to get a team together as they are in dispute with the Spanish FA over the name of the team. The Basques want to use a name that implies that Navarra is Basque, the Spanish want them to use the name of the three areas that currently make up the Basque country which would mean by definition that Navarra is Spanish. Nothing is simple. Its also the only place where metal is actually the most popular type of music, which means theres a frankly unacceptable amount of mullets.

Andalucia

FAMOUS FOR: Bull Fighting, Flamenco, Oranges, Being Insanely Hot
FAMOUS PEOPLE: Pablo Picasso, Hadrian (of wall fame), Federico Garcia Lorca (Poet and icon of Civil War)

Andaulcia is actually what we think of when we think of Spain. The heat, the bullfights, flamenco dancing, sleeping all afternoon. Andalucia is where you can see the biggest remaning influence of the centuries of Islamic rule in Spain. Andalucians have a reputation for being friendly but when trouble comes they disappear and for being a little lazy. It is now home to thousands of British people who have moved out to enjoy the benefits of drinking their own body weight of Stella in the sun rather than the pissing rain.

Aragon

FAMOUS FOR: Being Seiged, Crab Paste, Not being as good as Navarra
FAMOUS PEOPLE: Katherine of, Jose Maria Escriva (founder of Opus Dei and most recently deceased Saint), Ferdinand II and Isabella.

Navarra and Aragon have a rivalry that goes back centuries. Being next to each other means that whenever Aragon wasn't under siege from the French they were squabbling like children with middling to large armies. Ferdinand II and Isabella united the Spanish regions into the Spain we know and love today and drove out the Muslims at the same time. In Spanish history terms thats pretty important, you win that round Aragon. Ferdinand and Isabella were Katherine of Aragons parents and also parents of the unfortunately remembered Joanna the Mad. Being the birth place of the founders of the Jesuits and Opus Dei few can doubt Spain's contribution to the world of secretive Catholic institutions. Pamplona has the highest ratio of Opus members to population in the world. Opus have their university here too.

Knowledge is the bomb

love love love x

Dave Mooney

Hello, how is living in the new shiny, touchy-feely, hug-tastic, Britain? I for one can not wait to get back into the love in so I can take a Conservative in my loving arms and tell them all the mean things I said in the past were just to hide my true feelings.

Are you nervous yet? I am. T-minus 8 minutes until Charlton go into battle to valiantly come up just short in the play off second leg. T-minus minutes 7 now!

Felicity had a friend over from England and she flew to Biarritz. On Saturday brave Mauro took it upon himself to drive this damzel to Biarritz himself, and I managed to worm my way into the car for the drive. Saturdays in Biarritz? Well of course darling. We lowered the standards of the classy seaside resort by playing some beach football to the bemusement of locals and laughter of children. I'm sticking to the story that the laughter was based (THE PLAYOFF HAS KICKED OFF!!!!) on the fact that it was cold and had recently rained because it couldn't possibly be due to our skills, which were velvety.

France really is a lovely place but that was until I saw Robin Hood which shows us how evil the French truly are! Fuck France, England number 1! I watched it in the cinema, in Spanish and managed to follow what was going on. Unfortunately that is due to the plotting predictiability of the plot than my grasp of the language but every line I did understand was a small triumph. Being in Spanish I missed Russel Crowe's accent which I had the pleasure of hearing today. A strange Aussie, Geordie, Scouse, Irish mix.

Sunday was spent trying to follow the glorious England triumph over Australia in the Twenty20 World Cup Final. It has been a weekend revelling in nationalism. My students don't understand just why I'm so excited by this but some of them are Basques, the only region to deem wood chopping to be a competitive sport deserving some serious television coverage.

The other half of Sunday was dedicated to Osasuna's last game of the season. They got to play the part of evil crusher of romance as they relegated the people's team Xerez. At the start of the season Xerez were hailed as the worst team to ever play in the Spanish top division but an amazing second half of the season almost saw them survive. The romance of them surviving was so strong that even Osasuna's fan were singing for them. I mean really singing for them, waving Xerez flags, calling the Osasuna manager a bitch for putting out a strong team and berating their own goalkeeper every time he made a save. It finished 1-1, the Osasuna goal scorer being booed, and it wasn't enough for poor Xerez. The only people to get more abuse than the Osauna players were the riot police who dispersed a pitch invasion at the final whistle.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Charlton have scored!!!!!!

As you can see I have ceased to live in the world that exists as I have decisions to make so have started living in a sport world. I know it's not healthy. I've decided I need a hobby, but don't know what. Maybe wood chopping. I'm sorry this post may be very dull if you're not a sports fan! I'm off to manically refresh the page for the second half. My finger has been well trained in this delicate art.

love love love x

Bicycle Bicycle, You Are My Bicycle

Hello! If you are reading this congratulations for managing to haul yourselves from rolling 24 hour news coverage. Are you sick of it yet? I for one am not but then I'm in Spain and thus aren't connected to it constantly. Despite not being a Tory I am glad they had the first shot at forming a government with the suddenly dizzy with importance Liberals. We can't be democratic only when the side we want wins and the Tories have the most votes. Saying that, they fucked it, so come on Clegg sign up with Labour get real PR and we may be able to pretend we are a proper big boy democracy. What we have all learnt is that deep down what we really want is Tony to come back, ignore us, worship himself, and rule us like a king. The Spanish are showing an interest in our humble electoral ways, reguarly asking for updates only to be told to ask again in a while. They can't be too critical of anyone's system seeing as they rediscovered democracy in 1978.

When not reading about the election I have been indulging in beard growing and football season finale mathmatics. This beard was the best beard yet. Though still looking like a sex offender a bit of tlc and you look more like a cheeky flasher than scourge of society. It met a sad demise this morning as it was sheared off due to my need to be photographed for documentation.

The end of the football season always leads to frantic calculations to see what is required of you on the last day. Despite Charlton dispatching Oldham with ease, Leeds won so we are consigned to the play offs. I warn you in advance I will be a througly unbearable bag of nerves and God help you if we lose. If we lose to Millwall in the final I'll probably just go home into the garage and turn on the exhaust.

Pamplona is fine. I was ill (not really ill, but what my mother insists on calling sniffly) for most of last week due to the fact that everytime I went outside I got soaking wet. There has been epic thunderstorms and even EPICER rain. That's right I made up a word. The weekend was spent playing Playstation and taking laziness to whole new levels. Without wishing to boast if I put my mind to it I can take laziness to whole new levels, I like to see myself as the Usain Bolt of laziness. So yeah I had a lazy weekend.

I'm going to be forced to have the typical "I'm not angry, just disappointed" conversation with one of teenage classes. They have been less than honest about some school projects which having been eating into my lesson time. Having this conversation is going to be difficult. I can't do it in Spanish, I'm their teacher so they won't understand it in English, and thirdly and most importantly they think I'm a cunt. I'm frustrated by this class as I'm counting down the lessons until I never see them again (7 in case you are wondering) and part of me thinks that I don't care if they disappear for the last fifteen minutes but I know thats not the attitude. I can't wait for summer, I really am a poor employee.

I'm off to watch The Wire which I'm worried will alter my speech. I can imagine being asked a question in class and responding in a gruff, sweary, violent response. Something like "Present perfect tense? Why don't you fuck yourself? I see scum bags like you every day get whacked." Listen to me, whacked. Well I never. Wish me well.

love love love x

Choose Your Side and Shut Up

Right, after some sleep, a dose of cricket and something that resembled a dinner, I'm ready to try again.

Times are strange here. Teachers and students alike are getting pretty bored of it all and we're are all counting down to the end of the year. Everytime I leave the school I don't like I'm just thinking one nearer the end. The bad thing is that it creates, in me at least, lethargy as I can't be bothered to fight with them anymore. Eat your crisps, be late, don't bring the book, only 7 classes left. Todays class was a waste of time. On the flip side I'll be sad when the other teenagers and the other classes finish. Everyone is here but sometimes it feels like only in body. In the office people are looking for next years job, people are going to get documentation for various visas and some of us, meaning me, are too busy drowning in indecision to do much else.

Other things I have managed include a pub quiz where our team won by a massive twenty points, putting the other teams to the sword with ruthless, brutal efficiency. As you can see I have failed to remain bearable since. This month I'm writing the quiz so if you have any trivia you just can't wait to share let me know and I can steal the credit.

I spent last week on the subject of humour which is potenially disastrous, but they all really got into the question of when a joke becomes too much and we spent most of the week telling each other borderline jokes, it was a good week.

Sunday was Osasuna's big day out at the Bernabeu to take on Real Madrid. They were great, led twice but were beaten 3-2 with a last minute Ronaldo goal. It was horrible. It's happened to Charlton plenty of times. Its what I imagine a brothel might be like, you know you are going to get it at any minute you just aren't sure from where or by whom. Just when you think you've got away with it you get kicked in the bollocks. Like a brothel. It makes it so much worse than the usual 3-0 routine victory by Man Utd or Chelsea or whoever. If you go close the worst is always after when Andy Gray patronizes you about what a lovely day you've had despite the result. Why do we bother? This is why:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAox_PpL2LU

Because every now and again they will do something amazing.

This week will mostly been spent in bed. Since gloating last week to Jess about how good the weather has been it hasn't stopped raining. Today I've been soaked through on three seperate occasions and can fill illness setting in already. If I do make it to class it will spent with Alanis Morisette and her classic Ironic, its true nothing in the song is ironic.

I hope everything with you is good, I'm looking forward to the election ending and I'm not even the country so I hope you can bare it.

love love love x

Where the Rain Is

I haven't forgotten to write but it's late, I'm tired, I've been living in my head for the last few weeks and I've been sitting at this lap top trying to write something for over an hour. I'm going stir crazy.

I'll try again tomorrow

love love love x