It's 30 degrees. 30 fucking degrees. 30 degrees CENTIGRADE. In April. It's hot and we're all irritable. Last week it was rainy and cold and then we just woke up and its 30 degrees. It's great when you are outside but in school it's awful. Turns out the air conditioning doesn't work. Also being by a big road means we have to keep the windows closed otherwise it's too noisy. The effect is to create a deer hunter-esque hot box. The students sit there getting more and more irratiable. They moan, I tell them there is nothing I can do and remind them that I'm English and thus finding worse than they are. As my shirt will attest. Easter is in the forefront of everyone's mind at the moment. Everyone, students included, can't wait for it. Everyone is tired and a little bored and needs a break. We teachers aren't made of stern stuff.
Talking of Easter. I'm an idiot. It's a well known and long established fact. I thought that it had been a while since I reminded everyone that I'm not just a run of the mill idiot but an A-grade, weapons grade idiot. This week I reasserted my credentials. It is the easter holiday soon (1 week, 1 week, 1 week, thank you God) and my parents are coming to visit. They arrive on Easter Saturday and leave early on the following Wednesday. I thought that the Easter weekend was the first weekend. The plan was to see off my parents on Wednesday and head down to Almeria with some guys from work until the second Saturday and then head back to Madrid for work on Monday. The problem is that the Easter weekend is the second weekend so I was due to be in Almeria when my parents arrived and I'm working on the Monday and Tuesday. It took me a long time to realise. Mum wasn't surprised when I told her, she expects this sort of thing. The guys here were more surprised. Forunately the plans fell through! Hurrah! As it now means the dates have changed and now I'll be back in Madrid for my parents arrival. One day being an idiot is going to get me in a lot more trouble and then maybe I'll learn a valuable lesson, but I doubt it.
I've just got back from playing football. Today was different from normal as it was like a scene from Bend it like Beckham. As you would expect from forward thinking guys like us that we normally have girl players too. No macho attitudes in our game. A new girl came to play today. It turns out she played college football or "soccer" back home in America. Which means she has played to a really high standard and certianly a standard higher than the rest of us. She had a brilliant touch and a fearsome shot. You could tell she had played to a high standard as she asked us at the start if it was ok for her to play in her prefered position of right wing. Positions?? I think you overestimate us. She soon learnt that in true British style our style of football resembles a bum rush. You get the ball and instantly eight people run at you in a scene reminiscent of the film Zulu. It's like being 11 again when you played football on a full sized pitch with a full sized ball and then you hoof and run.
The dreaded day also arrived. When you start learning Spanish you are told that one day, when you least expect it, you will meet the Subjunctive. It is spoken about in hushed tones in dark corners of smoky bars. No one knows where it comes from or what it does but as Erin so apatly described it, it will haunt you for your entire time here. No one can quite put your finger on why the fucking thing is so difficult, it just is. It's even hard to pin down its function. It is not a tense, it does not reflect time, but mood. It's about what you hope, what you want and what you don't and I'm still in the dark about why its different from the normal sentences but its one of those things that getting it wrong will make Spanish people scrunch their face in pain. It was one of those classes when you just want to put down your pen and ask what were you people thinking when you came up with this?? It's been a culturally Spanish week as I had my first "botellon". Botellon is described as central to the laid back nature of young people in Madrid. It's important everyone does it and to experience Madrid you need to too. It's drinking in the street. The Spanish are clever, what in England is a slightly frowned upon activity and nothing classy the Spanish have given it a name and called it cultural. Genius. It was great fun though, hundreds of people gather in a sqaure its warm and everyone drinks and messes about. It was all very good natured and at one point a German brass band appeared and played versions of popular songs from the hit parade. Including a fantastic version of I Was Made For Loving You. I was in my element.
I hope that you are well, to say that in Spanish I would need the subjunctive, no I don't know how. I can say the next bit in Spanish though
love love love (amor amor amor) x
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