Hunt for Hagi

Four Score and Seven

2011-12-12T14:46:00.000-08:00

Christmas is coming! One of the most wonderful times of the year. This of course all includes the normal reasons but with the added bonus of exams, I have my book at the ready, and printing ready made Christmas activities off the computer for the kids. Hours of planning reduced to printing off Christmas crosswords. The most wonderful time of year. The Christmas decorations are now out in full, the shops are rammed and it's freezing. Everything feels so festive.

My thoughts have finally turned to buying some Christmas presents. I used it as an excuse to go the El Rastro market. El Rastro is a huge market that happens every Sunday and is attended by thouands of people. It is a mainstay of Madrid life and I hadn't been. I felt a bit bad so I was excited to finally get down there. They weren't lying about the size, it was enormous. There are people every where that you have to battle through. There were so many stalls, some of them good, some of them, well, not so good. There were crafts, antiques and jewellery stalls on the good side. The bad side was people who literally were selling stuff I can only assume was taken out of bins, a stall selling a whole array of knives and loads selling novelty t-shirts. The worst one being one that read 'The Madrid Triathalon: Eating, Drinking, Fucking'. If that wasn't enough there were stick men to illustrate each. I find it depressing to think there are people out there who might wear that. With so much to see I didn't actually get any presents. God bless you Amazon.

The other big event in Madrid was Saturday's El Classico. I don't know where to stand anymore. I'm lost and confused. As a teenager I was a big Barca fan. I wore a shirt, read books about them and urged them to win every game, especially the classico. I didn't like Real Madrid. The fascist involvement, the supreme arrogance, the epic sense of entitlement. Those things are still true and I still dislike Real Madrid, though I have softened. However despite Barca being the best football team of my lifetime, my opinion has sunk. Being here I now realise they are half the problem. Real and Barca dominate everything and are strangling the rest of the league. Barca are just as self entitled. For example when they wanted to sign Fabergas and said Arsenal were holding him hostage. No, he is under contract, if you want him you have to pay Arsenal's asking price. That's how it works, for everyone. When the Barca team includes moaners, whingers and cheats players Mascherano, Dani Alves, Pedro and Busquets, it's hard for them to claim any moral superioty. Though they do spend most of their time looking down from their high horse on everyone. Alexis seems to be the next one. Spent a lot of the game waving an imaginary yellow card. Anyone who does that should be sent off without delay. Add to this the fact I love Madrid as a city. People speak so much rubbish about Madrid. I may want Real to lose but I want the city of Madrid to win. It is a conundrum. I had no clue who I wanted to win. Barca drew the first blood, scoring after twenty seconds but it wasn't to be. Barca won 3-1. It must be frustrating for the Madrid players. Real are a brilliant team, I think they would win the Premier League but for them there just happens to be one better team. There is no shame being worse than this Barca team, but I manage that is little consolation. Everyone here has been very philosophical. There was a lot more annoyance last year, this year people seem to have taken it in their stride.

There were two bank holidays last week. One of those days was used to visit a small town called Aranjuez. It's a pretty little town but unfortunately we couldn't see much of it. On the train down, out of nowhere, we hit a wall of fog and couldn't see anything. There is a beautiful palace in Aranjuez and the gardens are beautiful. We spent the day wandering around and enjoyed a long lunch. The fog was so bad we didn't realise until leaving that the whole town is surronded by mountains, big ones. There was one downside. I'm not exaggerating this at all. There were some buskers, one with a sax and one with a bongo. They played the same tune, solid, without break for the whole time we were, about six and a half hours. The same tune, without variation or break, over and over again. I wanted to stick the sax down his throat by the end. Though I suppose you have to admire their perseverance.

Other than that I signed up to be a guinea pig for trainee Spanish teachers. I have two hours of class every morning, plus my normal three, that puts me up to thirteen hours a week. If I don't learn a little damn Spanish this week I might just give up! I got in trouble today though I don't know why. I was working on the ghost story as I was asked. The teacher came over and asked why I wasn't enjoying it. I didn't realise I was giving off those vibes. He gave me a lecture about how we are only doing this to learn. Don't tell me mate, I have qualified. I know the drill. We might have beef. The other news is somehow I managed to get reversed heckled from an Elvis impersonator. I hadn't done anything! Must just be my appearance, I can't help looking like this.

Back on Christmas Eve, let's catch up.

love love love x

By Your Hand

2011-11-30T15:47:00.000-08:00

We are back!

It's been a while but I have been busy. Really busy. I don't work Saturdays anymore which is great news but what I didn't realise at the time was that it offered a stretching effect. I am working the same number of hours in five days rather than six. Throw in more off site schools and thus more time on the underground and I'm seriously rushed. My xbox has been sadly neglected, this weekend I'm planning to spend some serious time reconnecting. It's quite sad at the moment of week, lots of people are leaving. I found out today Julio is leaving which makes me want to cry. The most exciting thing at work is that a work mate and I have a new plan to keep our kids in line. It is the classic good cop, bad cop role. Just because they don't know my face I can strut in shout a bit and look mean while my friend tries to look smiley and nice. It worked beautifully. Sure, I don't have the authority to do anything, but they don't know that.

The Spanish election was won by the El Tories but they don't start until after Christmas which seems a little strange. It means there are packs of media guys on the pavement outside school now. I like to pretend my arrival at work is considered news worthy but then when I saw the President of the Madrid region hanging around outside I suppose they were there for her. It was weird she was waiting outside for a car to come and pick her up and the photographers were dangerously close to being polite. Didn't even chase her down the street. I suppose we will have to get used to them being around.

Outside of school it was Amy's birthday at the weekend and she had a house party to celebrate. I spent the majority of it playing with her dog, or more accurately the dog spent most of the time playing with my laces. I wouldn't have been so friendly if I knew she wasn't house broken. It was a lucky escape. Monday night was exam night. I love exams. They bust their arse for three hours while I read a book. Though on Monday Charlton had a very important game at the same time and I spent the whole time fretting. I rushed home got it online and subjected my house mate to listening to me belittle Huddersfield and gloat when we won 2-0. Eight points clear baby. Other than that my goal tally for the season is now 3 and I have just eaten so much curry I might go into a coma.

The flat continues to be lovely. The novelty of living behind a secrt book case entrance hasn't dimmed at all. The only bad thing is that I came DANGEROUSLY close to making an Anne Frank joke to my German housemate and her German friend. I do know theres no such thing as an Anne Frank joke.

The Christmas lights are up which I'm enjoying though it does break my rule of nothing Christmas related until December. It's getting darker and colder which may sound strange but Christmas needs to be cold and dark. I have a friend in Australia now and says it's truly strange that it's sunny and all the decorations are still winter themed. I can't wait for tomorrow, my Mum has sent me an advent calender. Bless her.

love love love x

Porno

2011-11-16T13:55:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone.

You may have heard more from me in recent times than you wanted. My email was hacked and a LOT of pornography was sent out. Maybe you enjoyed but if not I'm sorry! I have spent today apologizing to a lot of people, including my mother, little sister and some students. They took it well.

Other than that Madrid is good! It's been a very good few days at work thanks to England scrapping past Spain on Saturday. The Spanish are shell shocked and I can't say I blame them. I have been gloating a little but as they point out I agreed with them that Spain would win comfortably before hand. More on the game on the other blog. It was a more footballing weekend than normal last weekend as I scored my third goal of the season and more joyfully I actually got to watch Charlton in the pub. It was wonderful, we won 4-0, love you Charlton. Other than football Madrid is gripped by election fever. On Sunday they go to the polls and I'm told the Spanish version of the Tories (PP) will win by a landslide. PP's headquarters is on the same street as our school so there has been lots of people shoving stickers and leaflets into your hand everytime you go past. A Spanish election is a lot less intrusive than an English one, if it wasn't for PP being on our street I'd be barely aware of it.

Everything has been pretty rock n roll recently. Went to see a choir on Saturday as my friend Claire was performing. It was really good, we all got to feel very cultured sitting in a beautiful church listening to songs in Latin. It was all a little over my head but it sounded good. I was back on church on Sunday and as after our service they were holding a Remberance Sunday service, which the British Ambassador and a few high level army guys were attending, sniffer dogs were brought through in case we had planted any explosives. We hadn't.

School has been pretty normal. This is the first week for three weeks I have had to work five days a week, it's been a shock. Spain loves bank holidays and wonders why its even more skint than we are. I have one problem kids class when someone came to observe to try and work out a way to get them focused, only for her to walk in and for all the kids to behave like angels. I have been very lucky with classes generally. My adult classes are great.

The term is flying, home in no time.

love love love x

Stan Collymore

2011-11-02T16:02:00.000-07:00

It's been a while but we are back! It has been an immensly stressful few weeks, but after wanting to tear my hair out in despair, I am writing to you from a new flat! I really like it, its big and bright and there is some football stadium at the end of the street. Apparently it belongs to Real Madrid, no I haven't heard of them either.

I and three other people I live with made the decision to move out a few weeks ago. We were sick of the landlady sleeping the living room, especially as she often slept until two in the afternoon. She told us it was temporary but as the bags piled up and after she went from the sofa to a fold down bed we realised it was a little longer than previously stated. We soon learnt to take everything she said with a pretty large pinch of salt. It is fair to say she did not take kindly to three of us wanting to move out and one point stooping as low as to accuse of us racism. Is it because I am Venezuelan? No, no, it isn't. We looked at a few flats, agreed on one changed minds a few times but have finally found somewhere. That is not doing the stress of searching justice but I can't go into it again. At one point we didn't think we could move into this place as one of my room mates was unable to withdraw money as her bank was without power due to a huge snow storm in the north east of America. Even the weather was out to foil us, that's how it felt.

Otherwise it is great to be back in Madrid. My new classes are good. My adults are all lovely and pretty motivated all but one kids class are great, two out of three ain't bad. I intercepted my first note today! Two girls passing a note to each other which said, Do you want to pass notes? It wouldn't have been so bad if it had been written in English. First Spanish class back was good, new teacher seems and I'm seriously motivated this year as over the last year I was deemed to not have progressed enough to move up. I really need to sit down and just learn some fucking Spanish. The new workmates are nice and the old ones are just as great as they were. It's a bit weird that quite a few didn't come back but they all seem to be doing well.

Outside of work I had my first ride in a cable car in many years. It was really strange as it was just across some fields leading up to Casa de Campo, next to the motorway. They played Phil Collins and at some points it was so low we were going through the trees. I'm getting to now Charlie the parrot pretty well, he likes to sit on my shoulder and bite my ear lobe, I'm told its affectionate but I get the feeling that excuse won't work with the police if I try it on any young ladies. Sunday football has restarted, I have brought this season's goal tally to one. It's business as usual.

love love love x

nagkccc.wordpress.com/

2.0

2011-10-15T17:43:00.000-07:00

nagkccc.wordpress.com/

It's a brave new world x

Michael Laudrup

2011-10-05T15:48:00.000-07:00

Hola chicos

The first week back in Madrid is coming to an end. It has been really good but a strange. By the end of the first year I was on autopilot. I could get to wherever my next class was without even thinking about it. I knew when my planning slot was, when I would have twenty minutes to grab some food and who I would say and when. This week is weird. New classes, new students in new places. I've been to three new areas of Madrid, one so far north feel like you are going to get a nose bleed. I've even been to a new IH centre, Diego de Leon, I heard bad things but so far so good. There are a lot of new guys though it does seem a lot less than last year. Obviously a lot of people have left and I don't see the others that have remained so I'm getting to know some of the new guys, which in a strange way does feel like starting again. Everyone I have met seems lovely so I'm hopeful. The new classes are good, I still have one which I haven't met. The kids are good so far. As soon as the star chart comes up they are putty in your hands. I have one boy who would murder for you if he got a star for it. A good friend is also now my senior teacher which I was worried would be weird but its been great so far. It feels like I have been back for an age. It all seems so familiar and yet very new. The times they are a'changing.

Though some things never change. Spanish starts again on Friday, I have basically forgotten everything. I arranged to meet my old intercambio and I think she is a little shocked at how much time I spent just nodding and agreeing! I need to book a football pitch and hopefully tomorrow will be the first sneaky Thursday of the year.

Just a quick one I have to be in a few short hours.

love love love x

The World Was A Mess But His Hair Was Perfect

2011-09-29T05:40:00.000-07:00

We've been away but now we are back! I'm coming at ya from my new flat. It's all very exciting. It is also the main reason why there has been a lack of updates. Flat hunting is so stressful. Hours pouring over internet ads, the vast majority of them completely inappropriate, and on the phone. Most people never answer or if they do it's only to tell you that the room has already gone. Only about 5% of calls result in actually getting the chance to view and then what is inside is anybodies guess. Some people actually let you get to the flat to tell you that they have rented it already. It's maddening.

The first one I saw was a disaster. I got there ten minutes early and had a look around the area, Bilbao, and it was perfect. I was thinking that it would take a crack den or a bomb site for me not to take it. Even if it was a bit dingy, I could put up with that for such a good area. Not like I'm used to luxurious flats. The man who lived there was called Diego. On the website it said he was between 28-32 but he was in his late fifties or early sixties. It shows how much I liked the area that this didn’t instantly put me off. He showed me the living room which was nice but the real problems began when he showed me to my bedroom. He went to the end of the living room and drew back a curtain. It wasn’t a room; it was the last quarter of the living room cleared out with a curtain separating it from everything else. There wasn’t a bed. There was a ledge that came up to about the knee and stuck out into the room and he had just put a mattress on top. The whole mattress couldn’t fit on the ledge so if you had rolled over on it, it would have tipped off. There was an en suite toilet but the shower was upstairs in the guy’s bedroom! It was a mezzanine which you could also see straight into and to shower I would have to go into his room. But the bathroom there was not an original feature it also had a dividing wall put in, which was made of clear glass. He said I could bring back ‘amigas’. He doesn’t need to worry about me on that front but if he did it wouldn’t be the most suitable location. Imagine, let's go behind the curtain and in the morning you can shower in front of Diego. There were also pictures of naked women everywhere, but they were in black and white so it's art, not porn. Being British I said it was nice and I would call in the morning. That is not quite as pathetic as earlier in the day where I pretended the phone was breaking up when speaking to an overly pushy housing agency.

However it is done now. I found somewhere and its good. I'm living with two lovely American girls though they will be moving out soon, lots of people coming to see the place, and a Venezuelan who I was told is very, very shy. I have barely seen him but when I have he looks at the floor and gives a little wave. The highlight is a parrot called Charlie who can sing the tune of Yankee Doodle Dandy. He's so clever.

Apart from flat hunting it has been great catching up with people. Day by day a few more land so its been busy; mainly taking stick for Osasuna's 8-0 defeat at the hands of Barcelona. It was much more equal than the score makes it appear. There has also been enough for time for some serious quality time spent with Gears of War 3 with Lukasz. Wave after wave of evil alien hordes to be mowed. It's emotional, I've seen things you can't imagine. We start again tomorrow though class isn't until Monday. I have to say I'm really looking forward to getting back into it, though I'm in three secondry schools this year and they have the potential to change my mind very quickly. Madrid hasn't changed much, which is fine by me. Realised that I had missed it when I landed.

love love love x

The English Riveria

2011-09-07T14:11:00.000-07:00

Hello! I apologize if this post is a little strange. It hasn't stopped raining here for two days and I used that time to watch Requiem for a Dream, I think I'm cracking up.

Some guys look amazing in suits (Chris Powell), some guys do not. Some guys look like a teenager that is wearing his Dad's clothes to a job interview at a supermarket. I am in that third category. Last weekend provided the chance to dust down the suit as my cousin got married. As ever we left three days early to ensure we weren't late. We were so early we went to the pub and got some very strange looks, suits and dresses are not the usual attire on a Saturday afternoon in a pub in Enfield. Cheryl looked absoultely beautiful and the whole day went perfectly. The most nervous person was actually the Priest who looked terrified. It turned out it was his first ever wedding servive, he did a sterling job. The reception was a great chance to see the family. We aren't one of those live next door families so any chance to see everyone and catch up is always welcome. It was great to bond with the family over the universal and fierce hatred of the song 'Swagger Jagger' or as my Dad describes it "that noise". Congratulations Cheryl best of luck.

Weddings and talk of weddings seem to be rife at the minute. For the first time in ages, loads of us were in Kent, AT THE SAME TIME. It's the first time in a long time that I can remember Matt and Pat being in the same room. They managed to hide their bitter loathing of each other. They also brought their lovely lady friends. Matt likes his lady friend so much that he asked her to marry him, and the wedding talk has started. There is talk of the day, there was more confusion over the date (which is set) than you would expect, clothes and how one of us will probably do something stupid that will be on You Have Been Framed within weeks. I for one am giddy with excitment. It was fantastic to see friends and I'm happy to say I made two new friends in the process. For some reason two young children, you were bored out of their minds, chose to befriend me. The boy was wearing a plastic police hat and declared I was under arrest. He then rightly decided that Hannah was a far more suitable candidate for some pretty serious jail time. There is a picture on facebook of me rocking the police helmet. It was more Hot Cop Stripper than rough law man, but still I could see crime trembling.

Other than that I have actually done some Spanish, went to Charlton and listened to Dad moan through another England game. Some things will never ever change.

love love love x

The Golden Age of Knowhere

2011-08-28T14:56:00.000-07:00

Hola amigos. I must confess thats basically all the Spanish I have done since getting home but I'll get down to some serious work tomorrow or later in the week, you know sometime. Thoughts are beginning to turn back to Madrid as I will be returning in three weeks or so. The plan for this summer was to start looking for work at home and commencing the beginning of the end for this TEFL lark. However, that has basically been a non-starter. Camp took up all my time and it would be unrealistic to think I would find something in the few weeks and the last thing I want to do is sit around unemployed for doing menial work. The new masterplan (#58284) is to return to Madrid and start looking there while I'm working. Being away from Madrid has made me realise how much I miss it and it feels like after only a year there is some unfinished business.

I was lucky enough to see Sean, Amy and Kate in London this week. As usual all three were a lot of fun and they added some insight. It turns out I'm not the only one who spends a lot of summer thinking about what to do next, it does seem to be a part of TEFL life. My theory is that with such clear breaks it is a lot more difficult to drift through a few years in a job that is just on going. Amy reminded us that in our early twenties it's ok to not have everything plotted out, while Sean made the point that it is good to be thinking of these things. We all felt better!

However the day in London was not all about the future. Amy took us to the Wellcome centre. Henry Wellcome was a "pharmaceutical entrepreneur" who travelled the world collecting items that took his fancy. From medieval Japanese sex aids, torture devices and even Napoleon's toothbrush, it really was something. How they know it's Napoleon's toothbrush I will never know but I'm prepared to take their word for it. There was also an exibihiton on dirt which culminated in blocks of human faeces. It was arty, alright. It was all very London and I loved it.

Talking of London that was not the end of fun. At the end of the week I managed to catch up with Alex. I was allowed to sit in his swanky office drinking cucumber water, I was a natural. To Alex's disgust there was a Nando's but much more to his liking was the cider festival. The butterscotch cider being a low point as one of the natiest things I have ever drunk. The night ended with me failing to wake Alex has he slept on the sofa despite at one point holding his eyes lids open. The resoultion was for Anderew to forcibly drag Alex across the floor. Classy.

A little closer to home was John's leaving do. I had a little hitch when I went to the wrong house, it wasn't my fault, but Row came to rescue me. I had attemted to walk after directions from a real geezer who told me that it would "take alf owha to bowl dawn there" and "its pwopa far". I got to meet John's extended family, one rocking the most amazing orange tunic thing. There was a buffet, didn't quite disgrace myself, and there was even the Game of Life. I don't know if you have ever played the Game of Life, it takes a lifetime to play and I had previously thought it was impossible to do badly at but this afternoon proved otherwise. Sarah and me on the same time started slowly and it just got worse and worse. Sarah revealed her true colours by bailing on me to fight alone while Wainwright spent his time waving his paper money around like a rapper. It was cool. Normally in the Game of Life you end up with over a million and a list of achievements that no one in any life time could ever achieve; like climbing everest, writing a best seller, designing a new life changing invention and landing on the moon. All we ended up with was a sinking sense of shame. The main thing was to wish John well before he heads off to Peterborough to work with bulldozer engines. He seems enthusiastic which is more than most can say about Peterborough but then he will live in a house in the shape of a triangle, so who wouldn't be?

I'm currently watching the coverage from Reading and Leeds and as ever it makes me jealous that I didn't get to a festival this summer. This year I will get organised and get to a festival next summer, I mean it! Remind me nearer the time. You should come.

love love love x

The Joy Formidable

2011-08-20T15:59:00.000-07:00

Hello! I hope this post finds you well.

It has been a busy week. Had some farewell drinks with the summer camp guys. It was a lot of fun and a little strange to play ring of fire with my bosses. What everyone had been waiting for was the final rendition of a song that has been being written for the last few weeks. It was in honour of a Russian woman who was accompanying a group of kids. It was called 'I Would Eat You (If You Were Made of Chips).' It brought a tear to my eye.

I made my regular pilgramage to Cambridge. Thanks to Kelvin and Sophie for letting me sleep on their floor and thanks to Mark for taking some time out of his busy schedule to have a few drinks. I had a really good time. Most of it was spent as any trip should be and sat in a variety of pubs. Sometimes inside, sometimes outside, sometimes by water, sometimes not. Perfect. We had a lovely picnic by the river that couldn't even be ruined by a horde of evil swans. I have said it before and will say it again, I really like Cambridge. It's not even ruined by hordes of bicycles. Hordes have no power.

One of the main things it has done to me has got me thinking about my future, which is always a dangerous pursuit. The thought of doing a masters has been on the back burner somewhere in my the back of mind for a while, but after the rave reviews that master courses got over the week and the exciting news of someone actually getting employed with one has pushed it further it the foreground. I spent a few hours last night doing some research and there are some great ones but the same nagging problems remains. That problem is that I don't have nine grand knocking around. If anyone wants to volunteer some, let me know. There are some other questions. Should I try to find a job before applying? Do I have the ability to do one? Should I got to Korea to teach first where you can make thousands in a year? Any advice would be welcome. I am so easily swayed.

The other exicting news is that my uncle is here. He lives in Cincinatti and only comes over every two years or so. He is currently sleeping in my sister's room and is snoring like he has swallowed a turkey. My great uncle Chris and his wife Maureen are also home from Australia. In their honour the family of Maureen held a bbq in their honour. We were invited down and spend some time with people who really qualify under the loosest possible definition of family. It was a strange afternoon, I was told a few times that it was really nice to see by someone who didn't know my name. Our family huddled together with my sister making observations, my favourite being "she looks like a fish". The real entertainment was provided by my uncle who went around telling people he was gay. He isn't, but it provided some laughs until my mum outed him as straight. Killyjoy.

love love love x

Starkey

2011-08-12T14:58:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry. I take it back about Starkey, he's completely lost it. However, my Grandmother's love for him will remain/increase.

love love love x

England Keep My Bones

2011-08-12T13:52:00.000-07:00

Its been quite a week hasn't it? Despite what some people claim I don't think many of us saw that coming. Watching the news this week has been awful and yet I have been compelled to watch, read and listen to as much as possible. I confess to having taken a morbid fascination in the whole thing. Dave is on TV now talking tough as I'm writing this. As it has calmed down for now at least, everyone is trying to explain what happened and it all seems so complicated and so simple at the same time. As usual people who have spoken about understanding what happened have been accused of justifying it. As a former history student, though not a very good one, and having spent some time writing essays about and trying to understand some truly horrific people that criticism is obviously ridiculous. Some people have given deep reasons of urban poverty and moral decay while others have said that it all simply about getting a new pair of trainers. I think it's a bit of both. New trainers aren't the problem. The problem is, and I include myself in this, that we at every level of society are too focused on stuff. Stuff we can really do without. Everywhere we see people looking out for themselves. Whether it be "greed is good" bankers or expense fiddling politicians. It's not just them, we have a huge credit card debt in this country and as Bluewater can testify that, even the day after Christmas, will queue and wait however long to get into a shopping centre. We define little girls as shoppers. It's not even just us, as I mentioned in an earier post all the kids at my camp wanted to do in London was shop. No interest in the sights, just shopping. It all started with Mark Duggan, who will probably be forgotten about, but people saw their chance and took stuff they otherwise would never be able to afford. That's my take on things anway. Sorry to get all sociological on you. Feel free to correct me.

The whole thing has left my Mother looking out of the window in case New Ash Green kicks off, so far, so good. My Dad can't believe his luck that he's been off all week and my sister dragged her boyfriend against his will to London today. If she didn't get to see We Will Rock You tonight then New Ash Green may well have been in flames tonight. So different, yet I'm assured we are related. The small remnants of camp had a last minute diversion to Thorpe Park which I'm told they enjoyed. I do worry what the millions of people around the world think when they see it all but I suppose there's nothing that can be done about that. Other countries have riots too. I just hope they all see the people cleaning up too.

Oh dear David Starkey is on TV tieing himself in knots; my grandmother will be cheering him on.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=gh5ogOH82Aw

love love love x

A Box Full of Sharp Objects

2011-08-06T14:50:00.000-07:00

Camp is over! It is completely dominated the last four weeks of my life but it has been completely worth it. Before hand I was unsure what it would involve and whether I would enjoy it. I had heard plenty of horror stories of summer camps that resembled the Lord of the Flies. However, I can honestly say that the whole experience has been fantastic. The organisation was perfect, the kids were great and everyone I worked with were wonderful. I don't want to gush but it has been awesome. Personally, I got some really good feedback about my classes which was a relief because at the end of my observation conversation had shifted to incest. We were talking about royal families you see. Camp was a lot of fun, couldn't have asked for anything more.

The last day culminated in presentations of inventions they had created. My class was in competition against the others and held up well. If one of my two groups don't win its a travesty. One went for a high brow solution to generating electricity in the future while the other went for a flying book carrier thing. Basically both were cardboard boxes with some straws attached but as I said, travesty if they don't win! One little girl from a different class had come up with a hair growth product, she used me as an example, what a bitch.

The real highlight was the kids. Teenagers seem to get a tough press in every country but these kids were intelligent, motivated and a lot of fun. In a month I only had to use the red daddy discipline folder once. A small scuffle due to over tiredness. Rather than just write the account, the supervisor Neil and I managed to make it a much more gripping tale. My favourite lines were "Student A hit boiling point after being sprayed with cold water (that's how angry he was)" and "Student A responded by driving his size 5 Nike basketball shoes into Student B's thigh, connecting twice". I just hope it doesn't have to be used for anything official or it could back fire very quickly. Being teenagers there were some very short lived and intense realtionships. There were dizzy highs and crushing lows often within the space of one afternoon. We all had to dish out realtionship advice, if only they knew how unqualified I am to give them advice on any front but especially that one, and were told we were cramping various kids styles. At one point they were playing truth or dare and one teacher Ancor decided to get a better listen. We lifted him through the window and he hid behind the curtain before being uncovered with a dramatic flourish. He was there long enough to learn some pretty shocking information. My teenage years were a lot quieter, I blame Charlton.

Talking of Chalton. The huge news is of course, the restarting of the football season! Oh yeah, it's back! The sigh of disappointment and the look on my mother's face said it all, it was gone but now it's back. I was lucky enough to be at Charlton's first game today, a rolicking 3-0 win! It was a surreal experience no one really knew how to react. We played really well, and won, easily. All the new signings looked good but Dale Stephens might be the victim of a man crush. He was awesome. The manager and players can feel pleased with themselves but the man who deserves the real credit is my Dad. Literally just as he said "I don't rate Scott Wagstaff", Scott Wagstaff collected the ball, cut inside and slammed the ball past the goal keeper from 25 yards out. You can't buy motivational skills like that. You're welcome Scott.

Other than that I've managed to see some Waitrose guys and the newly employed John, congratulations John! Since I have been basically been solely occupied with camp I haven't been in touch with a lot of people, it's nothing personal. Sorry but you will be hearing from me soon!

Now if you'll excuse me Con Air is on, what a head of hair

love love love x

One Time at English Camp

2011-07-24T12:08:00.000-07:00

Long time no post. This is simply due to the sheer amount of time I have spent in camp in the last two weeks. We can't say we weren't warned. I was nervous on the train down for the first day, I had never done a camp before. What if the kids were horrible? What if I had to take part in lots of crappy activities? What if I lose a kid I was supervising? I needn't have worried I have really enjoyed the two weeks so far. It is very time cosuming, the first week was a seven day week and I've done a few 15 and 16 hour days but it has been worth it.

We have class in the morning and the best part from my point of view is that I get to play with an interactive white board. The kids were excited by the novelty for 20 minutes to half an hour, I on the other hand am still absolutely loving it. I can cut and paste things from the internet, I can hide certain things, I CAN ADD A JINGLE! It's been a lot of fun. Class is easy as they are in 50 minute chunks, the kids just want to play games and even if I'm shit they get packed off home in two weeks. The down side has been that I know feel very old. I play some music in the background when they are working and they can choose what they want and I am unfamiliar with most of it. Who is Pitbull? That's a dog isn't it? Iyaz? His ipod is stuck on replay apparently. Feel like my grandad.

The strange new thing for me is all the activites and the day trips. The main one was London. I love London but this visit was terrifying. I had seventeen kids with me, all with short attention spans and easily distracted and that is not ideal when in the middle of a huge city. For example one little Turkish boy turning around and walking away to take a picture of a squirrel and almost giving me a heart attack when I counted up and was missing one. We saw Buckingham Palace (they weren't fussed), the Houses of Parliament (much more impressed), St James Park and the highlight seemed to be the London Eye. We were all getting nagged and prodded to go to Oxford Street and specifically Abercrombie and Fitch. We were told specifically not to go but one girl cracked and when they turned up with Abercrombie bags some serious shit went down. One girl played the Daniel Pouter song 'Bad Day' at me, I got sworn at in German and one French girl told me that she hated me. It then pissed it down and when I thought it couldn't get worse we had to endure the film 'The Holiday' on the coach home. I think it is sad that the one thing they really want to do in London is shop but once again I sound like my Grandad. Shopping is a big part of this trip, these kids are loaded.

Other activites have included a lot of football, badminton, arts and crafts, casino night, volleyball, the cinema and something truly ominous entitled Mr and Mrs Canterbury. It involved covering heads in shaving foam and throwing wotsits so they stuck to their head. Mainly I walk around just making sure they aren't getting into much mischief. At night it is pretty dull and the main thing is just to ensure TV watching is appropriate, girls and in boys room and vice versa and arbitrate games of Jenga. Strangely it is smiley Simon is the good cop where as I am normally shattered by this time which means my attitude is bad cop. I AM THE LAW.

The setting is beautiful, a very expensive private school called Kings. I've been looking at the photographs and it gives you an idea of who goes to this place. My favourite is the hilarious joker who is pulling up his trouser legs to reveal that he is wearing odd socks!! Odd socks!!

Otherwise it's all gone wedding crazy. We are starting to get plans together for Matt's wedding, John is now the sad spinster of the Whittaker family as his little sister has just got married. My parents are at one this weekend and there are more in the pipeline. Too close to being an adult for me. I have managed to catch up with people in the few odd moments off which has been great and once its all over I'll have the money to get around and see people. Sorry for lack of contact. As I said, it's been busy this is the first day I've got a whole of cricket watching in.

love love love x

I Luv I Jah

2011-07-15T13:41:00.000-07:00

No post for a while and not even really today as since camp has started life has become

work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep etc etc

Of course there are train journeys inbetween these things. On Wednesday night we had a drunk shouting at some Aussie back packers who had been minding their own business about them wanting to come over and convert us all to Republicanism, he seemed to think Australia was a republic. Yesterday we had a truly nasty bloke screaming some really filthy abuse at his girlfriend and today there was even a tragic accident. I dread to think what will happen tomorrow. Talking of tomorrow I'm up in a few hours so I'll post properly when I don't feel the overwhelming urge to sleep.

Camp itself is awesome though but thats for another day

love love love x

Scary Kids Scaring Kids

2011-07-05T16:14:00.000-07:00

Home! Hurrah! It's been really good so far. Not that I have done very much but then that has been what is so nice.

The last few weeks of school are normally quiet, followed by a mad rush in the last few days to mark exams, write reports and complete all the fucking paperwork. After exams students basically stop coming for the last two weeks which means you spend a lot of time sitting in an empty room or even worse if just one comes and you have an awkward conversation for twenty minutes before they make an excuse and leave. Then comes the form. At the start of the year we get giving all the textbooks we need and an mp3 player and speakers to do listening exercises in business classes and other delights. At the end of the year you have to give them back and get each item signed off before you get paid. Oh. I straggle around looking for myself I am able to give back my advanced text book minus its back cover, the speakers without mentioning that the left one doesn't work and CDs so scratched Molly from Dublin from exercise 2 sounds like a mouse. Then comes the lying on the register, putting those lies into the computer for the last month so it looks like its done for the entire year and when asked answering yes of course I have cleaned out my locker. Add 200 teachers doing the same and its a headache. You have to get it signed (some are much more willing to sign than others) so you can pick up your last pay cheque. You have to do it in person and take to the bank. My bank and I have a hate hate relationship. I managed to catch them in one of their five minute windows of actually being open. I took my cheque and my card, filled in their slip and strutted over beaming with pride to pay in my cheque. She took the cheque, pressed some buttons and then the computer said no. I don't have my official NIE document. I had it one ten other official government documents and three from the banks themselves, she can see it matches on her screen but no. She phoned a mysterious man known only as Jose Luis who apparently said yes, but I needed my passport. I had to run home to collect it, home was 15 minutes away and the bank closed in 35 minutes to it was going to be tight but we managed, she even gave me a sweet to celebrate. I need that money to, you know, live this summer so it was stressful.

All this was a few hours before my flight and the flight got a little exciting. A man was forcibly removed from the flight. He didn't want to get off but a camp steward known as 'Mike' (if that is in fact his real name) threw him off. People were a little shaken. He was in the row behind me and three rows in each direction were security searched. They wanted to know where my luggage was, they pulled up my seat, they apologized constantly, it wasn't very Die Hard. It turns out the guys passport got wet and the picture was unclear. As I said, not very Die Hard.

The biggest part of the last few weeks however is saying goodbye. I have been lucky to meet some truly wonderful people and at the end of the year we spread and scatter. I don't think anyone in Madrid reads this, mind you I'm not sure if anyone reads this, but I would like to wish them all the luck in the world and I look forward to seeing them again, somewhere, sometime.

Home has been good. Had a nice birthday with my family, even managed to see my sister, anything longer than 2o minutes is asking a lot. A group of us have dedicated this summer as "The Summer of Spanish". I've got the time and damn it I'm going to study. I'm typing and learning verb conjugations with the aid of pretty colours on the computer. I'm listening to a really patronising podcast and I'm looking up all those words I have meant to but never did. So far mixed results. Because I was thinking about it I said gracias to the guy in the newsagent who looked at me as if I was the most pretentious twat he had ever come across. The other thing is rejoining battle with my old nemesis, the verb llevar. Llevar depending on the context can mean:

- to carry
- to have something on one's person
- to take
- to move something somewhere
- to cope with or tolerate something
- to transport
- to wear
- to include an ingredient
- to lead to
- to drive
- to direct/run/lead a business or organisation
- to bear a name
- to keep account
- to last a certain amount of time
- to charge (money)
- to take away (food)
- to get along with someone
- to win or recieve something

Fuck.

Plans are being made which is great I even got rained on today which after the weeks of 40 degrees was incredible. Dad and my sisters boyfriend are passive aggressive with each other, my Mum is appalled by my choice of footwear and the tabloids are being unspeakable cunts. It's like I've never been away.

I hope to see you soon!

love love love x

Don't Tell Me To Do The Math(s)

2011-06-23T07:38:00.000-07:00

Spain is good. Let's make that clear from the start. I'm leaving on Friday next week and I thought I'd try to write down some of the differences between the nation of my birth and my new adopted nation. Being away from Britain has made me more fond of it. You realise what a good place it is once you move away and that everywhere has things that will drive you mad. Spain is no exception. There are wonderful things and there are things that will make you want to grab a gun and find the nearest clock tower. Here's an insultingly simple summary.

*It's the simple things that take up all your time. Spain is a modern, developed, European country but at times you will doubt that as you hold your head in your hands and weep. My bank card can only be used six times online and then you have to fill out forms. When I queried it the teller looked at me as if I was asking the most stupid, obvious question ever. Lee had his electricity switched off and when he rang them to ask why they said he hadn't paid his bills. It took him days to prove he had paid them despite having all the paper work.

*Stop touching my face

*They make us look bored and uninterested in the lives of celebrities

*The attitude to kids here is a millions time better. They don't just see them as criminals and lay abouts. It's almost as if they like them.

*Spanish pop music is unforgivable
For example www.youtube.com/watch?v=pID_kztZb9I

*Spanish food is no where near as famous as they would like to think

*They manage to go out for longer than we do without fighting, smashing stuff, being sick on the street and getting each other pregnant

*The large majority of people have no interest in bull fighting at all

*The sterotype of Spanish people being lazy is completely unfair though the one of them being passionate about small things is not

*Everything happens later

*They aren't arguing thats just how they talk

*Football may be even bigger here, at 10.00 tonight there is an under 8's football tournament being broadcast nationally. I'm watching

*Said it before and will continue to say it THE MULLET IS NOT BIG AND NOT CLEVER the same applies to white boy dreads

*They have no time for British indirectness. Mike had a swelling on his face and his whole class just pointed at and asked him what the fuck was going on with his face

*Pleases and thank yous are largely unneccessary though I still insist on using them and occasionally people on a till look really pleased and it makes my day

*Generally they have a really positive attitude about Britain with the exception of food, they really, really hate that. They are also baffled by cricket, cretins

Should be an anthropologist

love love love x

Chaka Demus

2011-06-14T14:10:00.000-07:00

The stag. Proud and noble creature. Regally roaming the countryside with the dignity of a prince. Or in the case of Saturday night a group of drunken idiots talking in mockney accents. It was my first stag night on Saturday and thus I can safely say it was the best stag night I have EVER been on. High praise indeed. We gathered in a pub and were first given wrestling cards. I was a little confused why I was holding a picture of Randy Orton but soon all became clear. When Ross told us to assume the position, not a phrase I want to be repeated too many times, you were to assume the position on the card. Fortunately mine was just Randy putting some chump in a headlock so that wasn't so bad. Mike unfortunately drew a card with a gentleman called "Jimmy Wang Yang" on it who was flying through the air like a graceful salmon, which was a lot more trying. The luckiest escape however was for Sean. Sean didn't make it but that was for the best. He may be the smallest and thus easiest to put on shoulders/lift/body slam. There were efforts at first to be laddy with drinking games and "waaaayyyyssssss" but within twenty to twenty five minutes the English teacher nature took over again. Congratulations and good luck to them both.

The next day involved a trip to Segovia. The haters doubted that I would make it but I managed with a throbbing (giggle) headache and feeling sick to drag myself to the bus station. Segovia is beautiful. It is an ancient city with a two thousand year old Roman aqueduct. It looks like a strong gust of wind could blow it down but those Romans knew what they were doing. It is incredible to think and I wonder what was built in our lifetime will be standing in two thousand years. The Valley obviously. Speaking of Charlton, which I normally am, I found a text book that claimed we were the fourth richest club in England. No one told me. Other highlights of the trip included, a steak the size of a head, a chair that looked like balls and shameless photo posing. I think I'm going to have to give up the pretence of just being 'unphotogenic' and just accept thats how I look.

14 working days left and 17 until I touch down back in Blighty. As is traditional at this time of year I'm ruining students day by giving them exams. This the first year I've taught preperation courses for official exams set by Cambridge. They were last weekend so as far as my students are concerned the class is over. Unfortunately my school don't agree and I still have to to go. I was stood up today by four teens. Just sat in the empty room for an hour. People walked passed and wondered what on earth I was doing there. Some smiled at me in pity but I'll be back on Thursday and Tuesday next week. Least I'll get a lot of reading done. Once they are marked thats this year over. It's happy as I'm pleased to be coming home but also sad as a lot of people are moving on. Maybe me, I'm going to look for work over summer and if I can't find any I'll come back to Madrid. From what I've seen so far I'll be back! Thanks Dave.

It's busy but I've still managed to get myself a stalker. A young guy whose name I can't remember, he is saved in my phone as 'man', called wanting an intercambio I said yeah as I need the Spanish practice and told him to email me when he was free so we could meet and practice this language business. Since he has text me A LOT. This put me off the idea and I decided not to text back. So he has started calling. Fuck. That was two days ago and he is still calling I'm hoping he will take the hint soon. The worst of it all is his insistence on doing this !!!!!!! There is never a need for this !!!!!!!!!

Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to try and make this place look respectable enough to get my depoist back. I could be some time.

love love love x

Executive Salmon

2011-06-05T15:52:00.000-07:00

This is what a feminist looks like. Oh yeah thats right I've spent the weekend getting to grips with feminism. I now consider myself a militant feminist. Why I hear you ask. Well other than the patriarchial slavery that still grips our society, I have a new intercambio partner. It has been declared the summer of Spanish and the biggest part of this is finding someone to speak some of the damn language to. My new language buddy found me on the school list I signed up and in the week we organised to meet today. On the phone she said she was an academic who needs to improve her English for delivering papers to important people. Gulp. She said on the phone she was working on a project that was "the intersection of History, Sociology and Gender Studies". She is also an ardent feminist. That is a is difficult in English but in a language in which I struggle to do simple tasks it was always going to be a lot of me smiling politely and nodding. I was nervous going to meet her but it went really well. I was really happy, and more than a little smug, with how much I managed to understand. I thought I'm doing it, I'm really doing it, I'm speaking some Spanish almost like an adult! Then it happened. I needed to leave to pay my rent, in trying to explain I got myself confused and ended up weaving a web of lies. She understood that I had a problem with the flat and I needed to see my landlord. I tried to explain. Confused her more, tried again, confused her more. We were in too deep at this point and I just surrended and went with it, saying there was some problem with the water pipes. She can never know!

This was not my only dallience in feminism this weekend. At the first leaving party of the season, sob, my spiritual Finnish sister Silja acquired herself some feminist stickers. They said things like "You are beautiful the way you are, do not pursue impossible images." or "Anorexia is real, the images in magazines are not". You get the idea. She and Amy took great joy going down the streets sticking them on posters and even at one point Mike and me for some less than feminist comments. We were joking! It was a lot of fun and the two of them don't have mullets and even have a sense of humour. I know, go figure. That's the sort of talk that got me a sticker of shame. Silja stuck one on a poster in front of a police man and he just smiled, I have a little go on a swing set and I get a talking to. Pigs.

All that good work was undone by a trip to the football. Football will do that to you. The season may be over but the veteran teams of Real Madrid and Bayern Munich played in order to raise money for charity. I have seen a few veteran Charlton games, the last one was behind a pub in Eynsford as Charlton took on a village team. This was slightly different. The Bernabeu was full, all 80,000 of it and there were a few familiar faces. Luis Figo, Fernando Morientes, Paul Brietner, Elber and most importantly Zinedine Zidane. To be able to see one of the greatest players ever play in the flesh even if it was a friendly was a true privilege. He is still operating on a higher plain. His touch was unbelievable, he saw things I couldn't see from the stand and he didn't misplace a pass. It was wonderful. The other highlight was Davor Suker. He seems to have spent his time since retirement eating. He is MASSIVE. Didn't stop him chipping in a penalty though. The game was fun, Real won 8-3. Bayern didn't help themselves giving away three penalties (Real did miss one), scoring two own goals and a completely farcical moment of the goalkeeper kicking the ball straight into Fernando Moriente's face from a goal kick and helplessly watching it trickle over the line. There was also a torriential rain storm which made the whole a lot more atmospheric.

Spain remains politically agiatated. The protest camp remains there and I'm more impressed by the day of their devotion to the cause. There was also fury when a breakout of e-coli in Germany was blamed on Spanish cucumbers. The people of Spain rallied heroically to defend their beseiged cucumber farmers. They have since been proved right and have enjoyed every last minute of it; ignoring the deaths and the fact that the strain is resistant to medicine. It's been a strange week.

love love love x

Revolution Rock

2011-05-25T03:03:00.000-07:00

Opps. It's been a while, I'm blaming it on the aftermath of my near death experience.

I don't know if you have noticed but there has been a REVOLUTION in Spain. It's like Doctor Zhivago out there. Spain has serious problems, the main one being 22% unemployment and among young people its more like 50%. There were local elections on Sunday and around the election a huge sit down protest has been arranged. Since Monday thousands of people have been gathered in the main square and are still there today. It was about unemployment but they have attracted people protesting about just about everything. Everyone is talking about it, some think its wonderful, others a waste of time. I wish them well. Just like at home in Spain people say the young are apathetic and don't care about anything and its great to see them proving people wrong. Spain does ahve serious problems and I hope it can be a start to getting more organised and influencing things. However I am getting a little frustrated by a lot of the bullshit around it. For example calling it a revolution annoys me, elections just went off without a hitch and the Conservatives swept the country taking all but one of the regions. Does it sound like we are living in revolutionary times? There lots of people with dreadlocks, playing bongos and speaking about non violent resistance. You're not Gandhi. Expressing these annoyances I think has given people that I'm against the whole thing and when I say the whole thing I mean peaceful protest. I'll get myself a reputation.

I have a job! A new one. It's a summer camp in Canterbury. The general scheduele of a TEFL teacher is that you spend the year wherever and then return home for a summer camp. I have managed to avoid this so far but now its time. Fortunatley I will be living at home so I won't have to go on the forementioned "sex patrol". However I will be involved on full day excursions to London and Brighton, ghost walks and most alarmingly "crazy game" night. What does that involve? I dread to think. There will be time to cram in some teaching. I'm sure it will be fun once I get there and get it into but I am concerned how this will dent my cricket watching. Welcome to the adult world.

It's just getting hotter and hotter. We all spend a lot of time sitting in Retiro park. The entertainment involves putting the word 'poon' into film titles, (my favourite being My Big, Fat, Greek Poon) and watching a girl who works at school who sits in the same place but with a different man each time. Other highlights have been watching a Scottish band who were possibly the dreaiest band that have ever lived. So, so, crushingly dull, I wanted to shout at the guitarist MOVE! NOD YOUR HEAD! BREATHE!!! In fairness to them by being that brain crushingly tedious they will live long in the memory, sly. Other highlights have been my personal goal drought ending with a swivelled finish (I will be giving you a blow by blow account of all my goals when I see you next), meeting someone who works for babe station and bottling going swimmimg in a lake. That shit was green.

Live in general is quiet but good. Classes are already winding down, student numbers are gradully decreasing. I know what you're thinking, I did check its not just my classes. Peoples' heads are more involved in what they are going to do next year and just like last year it's a little sad to hear of some good friends leaving. Home in early July, let's have tea.

love love love x

Tonight We are Going to Give it 35%

2011-05-13T14:12:00.000-07:00

The reason for a delayed post is that I am lucky to be alive! Thats right! I could have DIED! I survived a pile up. Pile up may be a tad overstating it. What I mean is that the driver of the bus I was on chose an unfortunate moment to look at his shoes and we went into the back of a car. Buses are big and hitting one was enough to push that one into the two ahead of it and for one to go into the back of us. As previously mentioned buses are big so the bus was fine apart from a bent bumper and some broken tail lights. The car we went into however was not so lucky. That was in bits. No one was hurt though at one point I thought the woman who got hit was going to kill the bus driver, he would have deserved it. We caused a huge delay made all the more satisfying knowing that Kevyn and Julio were caught in it.

Home was good. Brief, but good. I was down for only 24 hours and in that time I managed to to catch up with Hannah, Catherine and John who were in great form and saved me from having to spend too much time dealing with my sister's friends which is always gratefull received. Its got me really looking forward to the summer.

On landing I got a phone call from Felicity and rather strangely went straight to meet them for an afternoon at the zoo. Tired, dishevelled and still carrying my bag I wandered around in a strange daze. I like zoos. I don't see them as prisons as a persistent graffitti artist is calling them all over Madrid. Someone should tell him a lot of these animals would be extinct without them. Saying that at points I could see what he was getting at in Madrid zoo. Most of it was good, large enclosures with lots of things in but there were exceptions, such as the poor buffalo just standing in mud. It was the bears who were the worst though. People were throwing crisps and bits of bread at them and they were doing a little dance, it was sad to see them reduced to that. Also I know dolphins are usually a lot of peoples favourites but come on! They'll do anything for a fish, sluts.

The other main event of the week was finally getting around to seeing a Real Madrid game. Jeff (the only nice p****e fan) is a season ticket holder, possibly the first man ever to have both held a p****e season ticket and a Real Madrid season ticket. He couldn't go so he gave it to me and I took his seat to see the local derby Real vs Getafe. It was an exhibition match, Real cruised it 4-0 and at no point was a football match in danger of breaking out. Ronaldo scored three and say what you like about his character he is really, really, good at football. My man crush on Xabi Alonso grows and grows. The game served as a good example of Spanish football generally. It was a real privilege to be able to watch such talented players in the flesh. Real are a very very good side and in my opinion probably would have won the Premier League fairly comfortably this season, its just unfortunate for them that Barcelona are even better. It was great to see some of the best players on the planet show off their talent. Some people say that is what you want, you want to see incredible footballers play incredible football. Like the Harlem Globe Trotters, you don't go to see a game, you go to see the ability on show. While others say the Premiership is better as you will see a more equal and competitive game of football. I have to agree. Charlton (who I know are very far away from Real) have won by 4 goals only a handful of times in my lifetime, but thats the point. When it happens we go crazy, its truly special. The Real fans just clapped and then all went home, it was routine for them and where's the fun in that? As a one off it was brilliant but game after game after game? A good example is Osasuna. Who on Wednesday won a massive game to more or less secure their position in the division next year. 2 nil down at half time to Sevilla, who are a really good side. However they turned it round to win 3-2 with two very late goals. Camunas set up the winner despite being punched in the build up and bleeding. The Guardian described it as

It could just be the best assist ever. Camuñas chased a long ball up the left wing, cut inside, got punched full in the face, wobbled momentarily, lifted his hand towards his head, carried on into the area, blood streaming from just below the eye, provided a wonderful assist and turned to celebrate with the fans, pointing at his face. "See this?" Camuñas said after the game, pointing at his face as everyone went bonkers, "this represents this club". "Look, look, look!" he said, pointing at the fans, "this is what Osasuna are all about." And that is why Osasuna will survive.

Proper football.

love love love x

www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-9D4MkNlzw

What the Fuck is the Internet?

2011-05-04T14:18:00.000-07:00

What an eventful week! Obivously the weekedn started with the greatest event that HAS EVER HAPPENED. Aww didn't she look nice? Wasn't it lovely? I'm glad it didn't rain. These were the insightful comments that we were discussing on Friday afternoon during that whole Royal Wedding business. I was booking a football pitch during the ceremony (take THAT monarchy!) but watched them on the balcony, there was even a cheer when they kissed. Strangely two French people were probably the most excited, should have thought about that at the time. There were British flags and even a little champagne. Let's just hope it doesn't end like the last one.

We had a little problem over the weekend. We were supposed to go to Segovia but we had an issue with train stations. We were at Menendez Pelayo and really inconviently you can't go to Segeovia from there. Rude. Rather than just go to the right station we thought it a better plan to change destination to Avila. On the bus Amy did remember that a friend Raquel had gone to Segovia the day before. Rushed phone calls, apologies and guilt (oh the guilt!) took up the rest of the journey. Fortunately she has family there so it wasn't completely terrible, but still. Poor Amy had to listen to Sean give long tearful descriptions of Raquel sitting in Segovia weeping.

Avila was very nice. It's main attraction are the Medieval walls. They built these walls and then that was about that for two thousand years. Thats not strictly true, Saint Teresa was from Avila. She is a reformer so not to exciting, they do keep her finger in the cathedral but it was closed so we missed that strange token of affection. We did see the walls though, boy did we see those walls. Work started on the walls in 1090. The fenced area is of 31 hectares with a perimeter of approximately 2,516 meters, 88 blocks or semicircular towers, paintings by 3 m. thick, an average height of 12 m. and 9 gates. It is the largest fully illuminated monument in the world. They really were some damn fine walls. Silja acted as our mother for the trip and ensured we all learnt something. The rest of day was mainly spent eating and drinking. Classy.

At the end of the last post I said the Champions League match would be huge. It wasn't, it was humilating. The two best teams in the world, and in Barcelona quite possibly the best ever, rolled, dived, cheated and whinged for the entire time. You expect it from a Jose Mourinho team but Barcelona were even worse. Alves, Pedro, Mascherano, SERGIO FUCKING BUSQUETS. It is even more annoying when combined with their "more than a club" moral superiority. I was was a little disillusioned with football but then Leo Messi just did what Leo Messi does and then everything was back to normal. He was the exception, he's just too good. Our own football has doubled to two hours, my legs are just so painful.

love love love x

9AM in Madrid

2011-04-25T14:26:00.000-07:00

Easter is over. We're back. Classes have restarted, not that my students have seemed to realise.

The week down in Andalucia was fantastic. It all began on Monday morning when the doubters were humbled. They said we couldn't rent a car. They said it would end in disaster, the car wouldn't fit us all in, the dates would be wrong we wouldn't get down to Monda. They were wrong. We were successful on all fronts. It was a six hour drive which proved the fact that the middle of Spain is basically deserted. Hours of farmland, with only tiny towns on the way; once you get to the coast suddenly there are millions of people, most of whom are British or German. I hear that it has been beautiful at home, the hottest on record. Well in Andalucia it didn't stop pissing it down. It rained and rained and rained. The first morning was merely gray and with true British grit we seized our beach window. We there for an hour and a half with about another dozen hearty British types soaking up the rays and enjoying all 12 degrees of heat. It was enough to bring a tear to your eye. Talking of Britishness we managed to see and hour of British television which was entirely dedicated to the Royal wedding. I'm really glad I won'ty be at home until it all blows over. I said the Spanish don't give a shit but thats not entirely true as it has been on Spanish TV every day and based on the one hour we saw I imagine it is unbearable, just get through it will all be over soon. I bet the queen has reminded Kate Middleton, "don't piss me off remember what happened to the last one". Saying that there were some great lines, my favourite being David Starkey saying "I'm gay I wouldn't know about that" when talking about royal virginity. I love you Starkey. I don't think my Grand Mother has ever recovered from finding out Starkey is gay, she would have left Grand Dad for Starkey in a second. We didn't let the rain stop us from having a beautiful walk in the mountains. It was stunning despite not being able to see very much, it looked like this:

It was a little eerie and at the top I was told that you should be able to see Marbella beneath you, you couldn't. Marbella is much nicer than you would expect by the way. I had images of lines of Irish bars and cafes serving full English breakfast but it wasn't at all. We managed a night out in the small village and found a club in full 1970's mode. The walls were covered in glitter, plastic plants and a fuck off massive disco ball. It looked like scar face. I'm not fly its fair to say that the people I was with are superfly but the rain soon puts an end to that. We headed out in anoraks which got as a lot of looks, none of which were welcome. There was bowling, a BBQ that burnt off eyebrows and swimming in a thunderstorm as if we were in a shitty Zac Braff film. It was awesome.

It got even better when I got back and the next day I met my parents who are here until early tomorrow morning. I said not liking the things that the other one likes was the key to keep a marriage alive. I need to clarify that. The key is to smile and say things like "lovely" "really nice" and "interesting" while not enjoying it. My mum smiled while enduring the Bernabeu and Dad made agreeing sounds while walking around the botanical garden. Look and learn kids. We visited the Prado, Il Rastro, Retiro park and even managed to find the worst resturaunt in Madrid/the world. Dad impressed everyone by managing to order wine in Spanish and Mum successfully navigated crossing Atocha roundabout which is easier said than done. So all in all it has been a success. I think they have enjoyed Madrid, they commented on the amount of traffic (theres a lot, thats true) and that people wear a lot of coats. It has been wonderful to see them both.

Real Madrid won a trophy. Despite barely being able to touch the ball for the entire second half and just having Barcelona pass around and around them for the entire time they managed to pull off a one nil win. They went crazy and then proceeded to come back to Madrid and drop the trophy under a bus. I'm not exaggerating, it's smashed to bits. Barcelona are here on Wednesday for the first leg of the Champions League, its going to be huge.

love love love x

Daddy Fat Sax

2011-04-16T14:35:00.000-07:00

It's holiday time baby! Oh yeah! Thats how I reacted at half past two this afternoon. A little fist pumping and a small dance and I am out of here. One student wanted to ask a question in the last few minutes, it was hard to tell her no to her face. Last days before holidays are wonderful as no one wants or expects to do anything. With my teenagers we played film charades, Black Swan being a highlight. Though the last day is good the few before are strange. As the holiday drew nearer more and more people finished their classes and thus not coming to school anymore. By yesterday evening the school was basically deserted. I walked and no one was there. It was like a zombie movie. All I could see was my manager with his back to me at his computer and I just pictured him spinning around on his chair to reveal that he had become a walking member of the living dead. He did look that but that is only due to his new born child keeping him up all night.

On Monday, I'm heading down to Andalucia for the week. A friend's parents have a villa in small village called Monda. His hospitality and generousity has met with graditude and the rest of us putting on a posh voice and saying his family are like the royals. He must be glad he invited us. I'm not sure what's in Monda or what we will do but I was told that it is very likely that I will see a mountain goat in a tree. I can't understand it either but if I don't see a mountain goat in a tree I will be literally devastated and not Jamie Redknap literally either. I'm really looking forward to getting out of the city for a while. But the big easter event will of course be the parent Peirsons touching down in Madrid. A week today. It will be wonderful to see them I just hope the heat drops a bit or there will be some grumpy parents. I have no idea what we are going to do as they like polar opposite things; that's how you keep the flame alive kids. I think my dad needs a break as my sister is slowing killing him be allowing herself to be taken to Old Trafford by her boyfriend and then worse of all saying she "really enjoyed it". When she told me I virtually broke down. Pull the knife from my back Claire.

I can also relax while I'm away as I managed to successfully avoid being fired. My second official observation went well. Despite having to move to a new room which was so small that the observer was basically sitting on my lap. Fortunately she was sufficently behind me not to see the threats I was mouthing to the class whenever they started speaking Spanish.

Football, football, football. I talk about it far too much, then if you are reading this you know that. However this time its justified as the big news here is that there will be 4 el classicos in the space of 18 days. Its a chance for Barcelona to really rub Real Madrids nose in it. The first one is played RIGHT NOW and Barcelona are winning 1-0 and Real have been awful, saying that they have just scored. Saying Charlton are terrible never seems to help but there you go. I can hear the GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL coming from the TV, thats a serious set of lungs. But the biggest match of the weekend isn't Real vs Barca, oh no. It was our crack team that plays every Sunday taking on a Spanish team. That's right. National pride on the line, defending Queen and country. We finished our normal game and they came on and challenged us and we couldn't refuse. Played for 2 and 3/4 hours, my legs hurt so much. It was a slow start, dominating possession but not taking chances and falling 3- 0 behind. They looked pleased with themselves, I may speak limited Spanish but one thing I can do is swear like a trooper and I knew they didn't have a huge amount of time for us. But in the end, we overpowered them. I say we, I did very little. My biggest contributions were two rather "robust" challenges. One deeply cynical clip as he went past me and another crashing into the back of one of their players as he tried to turn. Welcome to British football. Nonetheless we won a crushing 15-6, a second half romp. Don't worry Liz, your honour is safe for another day.

Talking of the Royals are you excited about the wedding? Thankfully no one in Spain gives a shit. I bet you are at fever pitch by now.

love love love x

Our Colour Green

2011-04-10T14:44:00.001-07:00

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

The Sights of Madrid #2

2011-04-03T14:50:00.000-07:00

Real Madrid are big, big, news in Madrid. The biggest selling newspaper in Spain is Marca. It's a sports paper but everyone knows its a Real paper. Big, BIG news. Whenever they play in the week I can rely on having a lot less students. As they have a Champions League game on Tuesday night (I refuse to acknowledge their opposition) I'm looking forward to a nice easy class.

The stadium is named after Santiago Bernabeu, a former chairman who turned Real Madrid from the second best team in Madrid to the most successful in Europe. He was also a prominent fascist but more on that later. It is an incredible stadium. It's right in the middle to the commercial district, it just emerges from nowhere. Strangely they have a flag from every club in the league flying from the roof, they all still fucking hate you. I've been on the tour and its even more impressive inside, its huge, staggeringly huge. Just when I'm warming to them a little the pomp kicks in and it reminds you just how smug they are. Obviously the main reason I feel like that is that I'm jealous and childish, am I supposed to be impressed by your nine European Championships? Charlton have never, and never will, qualify for the tournament. What a lot of people don't realise is that Real Madrid and Barcelona are not football clubs, they are sports clubs, football is just the most prominent part. So once you have been told that Real were voted team of the century by FIFA, after you've seen the vast number of trophies trophies and you've seen the pictures of some of the best players in football history in their Real shirts, you have to go through the other sports. They are also relentlessly successful in those too, most notably in basketball.

You may have noticed I'm not a huge Real fan. Its not all jealously. I have the same problems I have with them as I do Man Utd. The arrogance, the lack of perspective, the smugness, the reflected glory, the lack of humility, a lot of them know nothing about football and most importantly the HUGE sense of entitlement. Real got beaten at home last night by a midtable side, Sporting Gijon. Did they not know who they were playing? This team came and wanted to win! And they did! How dare they? However the main reason I and lots of people don't like them is the reason mentioned earlier, fascism.

There is a long and clear link between Real Madrid and fascism. The stadium is named after one after all. General Franco was a big Real fan and helped his team whenever he could. Using influence to get players, including Di Stefano the man player who made Madrid the team they are. The most striking incident being a cup game against Barcelona when soldiers went into the Barcelona dressing room and said that it would be in their best interests to lose. They did. Barcelona overstate the influence and the current team are obviously not fascists but it still leaves a nasty taste. Especially as there is a group of fans called the Ultra Surs who are still horribly racist and violent.

Luckily I live in an Atletico part of town. I like Atletico they used to be the biggest team in Madrid and they have a pathological hatred of Real. Unfortunately for them they haven't beaten them since 1999. Real fans joke that Atletico really love them as its a guarenteed six points and Atletico have a very good record against Barcelona. There's a reason Atletico's club anthem is You Can't Always Get What You Want.

love love love x

Vital Organs

2011-03-27T15:00:00.000-07:00

Doesn't time go quickly? There's some wisdom for you. The decision about what to do next year has come around again. I'm finding this year a lot less stressful than last year as another year at this school doesn't fill me with dread like last year. The plan so far is to apply for jobs over the summer, obviously being a young go getter I have a clear stratergy and know exactly what I'm looking for. Believe me yet? If I can't find one then I'll come back to Madrid, I'm sure this will be my last school, if not my last year. Asking around at home work still seems difficult to find so we shall see. Also on the work front I accepted the job at the summer camp in the end, the enthusiasm comes and goes. I do have the problem that he emailed a map of how to get to the camp and he sent a map of Kingston not Canterbury so there's something that needs to be sorted out quickly, or you know... not.

In terms of work I actually have the exam period, otherwise known as the most wonderful time of the year, is over and followed by one of the worst times of the year marking the bastards. I've gone from sitting reading my book while they do the exam to sitting up into the night reading stories about a time "you were in the limelight". Nothing makes you feel more like a teacher than marking. The joy, the despair, the utter bafflement. It's bad when you have to tell them to keep the writing section clean. They have done well, no one has failed yet which is nice, and obviously I'm taking all the credit. You're welcome students.

The shaven head continues to work wonders as I had a drag queen rub my head while pelvic thrusting me. Let me put that into some context. It was Erin's birthday. Firstly we spent an hour and a half walking around in the rain trying to find the place. The place was called Berlin Cabaret and the highlight was that part of the stage was on springs. Any form of dancing sent anyone on a circle pogoing up in the air. It was a lot of fun. I didn't click why this was at this point. After a while a guy who worked there came and herded us away. Then the springed part of the floor dropped and there three drag queens were lifted from below to the floor to perform a sultry dance routine. Part of which involved rubbing my head while thrusting. I've now got more questions than answers, I'm so confused. Later on Felicity at the bar was offered by one them to have a little squeeze of one of his indisputiably pert bum cheek. In true British style she gently prodded it and congratulated him on it's firmness. They weren't young guys if I'm in that shape at their age or even ever I will be very happy.

I've also become a domestic godess. I've cooked and ironed today. Hell yeah I know how to have fun

love love love x

Calvo

2011-03-21T14:43:00.000-07:00

Greetings! Call off the search I've been away but now I'm back.

I'd like to say I've been really busy but by far the biggest news is my brand spanking new shaven head. It's been very exciting. My ease of living has been greatly improved and I've been having my head rubbed by some pretty ladies, I don't know why I haven't done it sooner. I've been compared to:

If you don't recognize these fine collection of gentlemen, the first is Buster Blood Vessel of ska band Bad Manners, former Charlton and England defender Danny Mills and Alexander Litvenenko. As I said why didn't I do this sooner?

In other news I had a job interview for a summer camp today. It started badly when they arranged to call me at 12 and then didn't. I waited for an hour and then had to go to class and they rang me on the metro. He sounded annoyed that I was travelling and I snotily replied "well I was expected you to call an hour ago". It then clicked that he had rung at 12 o'clock English time while I'm working on Spanish time. He turned out he was a very nice man and we had a little chat where we basically talked about anything not related to summer camps. He offered me the job which is partly nice and partly not. I've got a week to decide and I'm not sure if I'll take it. The money isn't bad and I have no trouble with the classes, the commute or even working on a Saturday. My problem is what Mike calls the "Lights out sex patrol". Patrolling the corridors of a University of Kent residence with a torch stopping horny, rich, European kids having sex with each other. If I have to do it I want a guard dog, a badge and a gun. Anyone I catch in the corridor will be the victim of my shoot first policy. I wasn't having sex as a teenager and I'll do everything in my power to ruin these kids nights too. Possibly worse is the thought of having to go to the talent shows, karoke nights and trips to London. If I lose a kid on the underground I'm leaving them behind, this isn't Vietnam.

It was the Madrid derby which is never exicting as it should be as Atletico haven't been able to win one since 1999. Charlton make me want to kill myself while Osasuna have become an unstoppable goal scoring machine. My football is getting worse. I should get better and I think I am but the problem is that everyone is improving faster than me.

Other than that work drags on. Easter is really late this year so I had great delight telling my students this week that though this is the last week, they will be straight back on Monday as the next term starts straight away. Their faces were delighted. I have spent my week arguing with all students about food. The Spanish mentality on food drives me, and quite a few others for that matter, crazy. They are obsessed with it. I have a bad attitude to food I confess but I don't rate everything by food standards. We were talking about different countries they had visited and like a lot of discussions descended into a food discussion. All the travel adverts are about what you can eat when you go on holiday. They think Spanish food is the best and most famous food in the world. I was saying that I would say that at least Italian, French, American, Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Mexican, Thai are more famous and more widely eaten. At first I thought it was sweet but it gets on my nerves a bit now when Spanish people I know point to a dish in a resturaunt and say look how wonderful it is and its something completely normal. The last one was chips with bacon on top it, covered in cheese. We do that home! Its hardly classy! The other is something called Bravas which are just square chips. I like them, but come on. I'm no expert on food as you well know but still. Sorry little rant there.

Oh and my parents are here for the easter break, ideas for what to do with them on a post card please. The problem is that they like polar opposite things, thats how to keep a marriage alive kids.

The sun is out, Madrid is beautiful.

love love love x

Carnival

2011-03-08T16:01:00.000-08:00

Hola! It has been carnival time here in Madrid. The carnival in Italy and the south of Spain traditonally is a time of celebration before the beginning of lent. On a side note lent started one hour and 2 minutes ago, hope you are still holding out. In Madrid on the other hand carnival is getting dressed up and getting trashed. Work had their traditional carnival party which involves standing about for a few hours in the cafeteria dressed as an idiot. There is a picture on facebook of my minimal effort attempt. Fake beard and stupid hat, chequed shirt in an attempt to look vaguely woodman like. Not even a noble failure. The fake beard seemed like a good idea but after a few hours I wanted to scratch off my face. That wasn't the lowest point, one of my bosses kept taking the piss about my lack of hair. I may have no hair, but I'm not Australian.

That was not the end of carnival for me however. On what was supposed to be a routine Saturday night where I had absoultely no intention to dress up ended in a face paint disaster. Neil's girlfriend Sara, don't let her small stature fool you she's very persuasive, insisted that John, Neil, Mike and I were to have our faces painted as clowns before we left. We caved. Looking like a clown is strange enough but when dressed in normal clothes it becomes a little sureal. I was in the Beatles t-shirt and 4 (4!) people came up to me pointed at my face and said John Lennon. No not John Lennon. Sara's friends were also clowns which meant 8 clowns in total. Except one who decided to be Neil Pert from Kiss, the one that looks like a cat. So it was 8 clowns and the Kiss drummer. This led to Mike sing 'I was Made for Loving you Baby' all night and since it has not left my head. It was a good night, my highlight being a cock speaking to us at the end. Firstly we were expected to be excited that he was half English. Then he called Neil (who is Irish) English and when Neil corrected him restorted to calling him "one of those republicans".

He made himself look like a tool but I shouldn't judge after my showing on Sunday. I managed to get myself to church. I came in and took a seat at the back and wondered why it was so busy. There's normally a good show but now there was extra seating everywhere and some people were still standing. Then I remembered it was a confirmation day. The place was packed with extended family all in suits and formal dress, while I was in a football t-shirt and jeans. I hadn't showered and when I got home I realised I still had quite a bit of white face paint in my eyebrows. That shit is hard to get out. It wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact the seat I had chosen was right next to the font where the main proceedings were to happen. The people getting confirmed were literally half a pace in front of me. It got even worse when a bishop who had come from England especially took over proceedings and would have been just out of arms reach. I ducked down to try and ensure that I was in no photos, please God don't let me be in any photos, and when the service was over I just bolted for the door. I think I got away with it and if not if I ask for forgiveness they are stuck.

Other than that everything is good. My new class in a small town called Las Rozas became a lot more interesting when I found out that the Spanish Football teams headquarters is just around the corner. I find it dehabilatatingly distracting, the kids seem better equiped. What if Xavi is there one day? I don't think I could contain myself. Talking of Spanish football Barcelona are quite good aren't they? Just watched the Barcelona vs Arsenal game. I feel bad for Robin Van Persie and I never thought I would say that but Barcelona are just too good. My man crush on Xavi grows, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass, pass. No one seemed to fussed about Charltons big game then the I suppose the Charlton players dont care so I'm not surprised. Useless bastards.

Go on treat yourself
www.youtube.com/watch?v=kNGNLo8K6Fk

love love love x

The Sights of Madrid #1

2011-03-02T16:05:00.000-08:00

People here say that Madrid lacks a big monument. There is no Eiffel Tower, Brandenburg Gate or Colliseum, nothing that conjures an instant image of the city. However that is not to say there aren't many interesting things to see and I'm here to prove it! I thought we would start with the Prado. The first thing to be said, before the number of great works it contains and all that, is that it's fucking massive. Thanks to Alex and his dogged sense of persistance I can honestly say that I have seen the vast majority, if not all of it. The Prado is a gallery that is home to the former royal collection of the Spanish monarchy. It is classical as they gave away all their modern stuff because they had too much, which is daunting when you think how many paintings they still have and what a space it covers. Daunting is the word that describes how the place feels at first. It's just a question of where to start. With the Greeks, with the pictures of the crucifixion (of which there are many) or the ones of Spanish royalty being regal. Once you start though it's wonderful and before you know it you've been there for five hours. It is considered one of the world's great galleries by people who know about this sort of thing. I am not one of those people and yet I can safely say I really like it. Most of it is over my head, I read the plaque next to each and wonder they could possibly know that but am happy to take their word for it. Here are some of their masterpieces in a format that does them absolutely no justice at all.

The Knight with his Hand on his Brest - El Greco

Garden of Earthly Delights - Bosch

Charles IV of Spain and his Family -Goya

Self Portrait - Albrecht Durer

Las Meninas - Velazquez

Portrait of a Cardianal - Raphael

To seem them in all their glory you'll need to get yourself on a plane won't you?

love love love x

No Pasaran

2011-02-21T15:22:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah we're back! Sorry (as if you care) about the break in transmission. There are valid reasons for this and as usual with anything I have to apologize for, Alex bears a lot of responsibility.

Last weekend was busy. The highlight was a trip to a karaoke bar which was strangely located in an underground car park. I didn't sing as it was a three hour wait for your turn. I'm not adverse to karaoke but after three hours the vital drink and interest levels have tipped too far. Also it may have started a minor diplomatic incident. Spanish karaoke is really different. In many ways superior, no lads doing oasis songs but then there were far more people taking themselves incredibly seriously, call me a puritan but some of the dance moves were just filth.

My new teenage class has completely transformed my week. Not only do I now spend a lot more time on buses, thanks to Kevyn my knowledge of Scottish football has improved, but it remains fundamentally pointless. Most of all I have to act like a proper teacher. They are a lovely class of four all of whom are very good. On a completely unrelated note I told a student earlier today that no one uses whom anymore and then look theres one just there in the last sentence. Am I out of date or a bad teacher? Probably both. Anyway, these four kids are to sit a difficult and official exam in the summer. Is it mission impossible? I mean, the parents are watching, we have to do a year (often 2) year course in five months and I don't know anything about grammar. It's going to be tough but I think we can pull it off. I just sent an email about them at 12.09am, working after midnight, never question my dedication!

I have also been sick. My body and I hate each other. It choose the worst possible time and hit me right between the eyes. I have been waiting for weeks for my appointment to get my new NIE number and I missed it as I was being sick. To make it more inconvienent Alex had already arrived at this point. Without my NIE I'm also not entitled to sick pay for the day I missed on Saturday. I solidered on into my class on Friday but was told I couldn't go to class as I looked like a wreck, I was told to start class and calvary would be arriving. It didn't and I was there three hours later. Fortunately my students were very understanding and largely left me alone. It's basically gone now except a cough which can only be described as whooping. It won't die and annoys Julia no end. It's also led me to drink an oceans worth of orange juice. I think my body must have a sponsership deal with Don Simon juice. You win this round body but I'll remember this next time I walk past a Mc Donalds.

And now for the main reason. Alex. Alex and Andrew arrived on Friday and it was wonderful to see them both. I was rubbish and sick but that didn't stop Alex getting me drunk, it was his fault, on a school night. But this was no drinking holiday, oh no. Saturday despite sickness was tapas and then to the Reina Sofia to see Picasso's Guernica. While Sunday was a trip to the Prado. I scoffed at the thought of being able to do the thing in a day but I was made to eat my words as Sunday turned into a mammoth session of classical art. It is such a beautiful gallery. It did get less classy later as in a bar Alex informed me we were being thrusted at by a male prostitute. I got to see their hotel, no relation between the prostitute and the hotel, which was awesome. I made myself look a bit stupid by sitting down in a swish bar and somehow making a large metallic crashing noise. The waiter couldn't resist telling us there was something wrong with us. He really has no idea. It was a really good weekend, I expect the rest of you soon, though not now as there is a strange girl staying here at the moment. She has my duvet but seems harmless enough.

The other damn exciting news, though I can't say its distracted me from anything, is the purchase of a proper Spanish grammar book. I am literally bursting with good intentions. I have been spurred on by two things. Number 1 is my rubbish Spanish and number 2 is that one of Dad's friends at home has started learning Spanish at home and I need to stay a good way ahead of him. I attempted the first exercise with Mike in the cafeteria at work. It was basic stuff, about the gender endings of nouns (the same thing my Spanish intercambio scolds me about) and we didn't realise at first that the key to completing the excerise was using the noun endings correctly. We sat there thinking this could be fucking anything before looking at each other with disgust and self loathing when we realised what we were missing. Once past that obstacle we did get 100%, there was much fist pumping to everyone else in the cafeteria's confusion and irritation.

Talking of confusion and irritation I should stop here before your levels of each become unbearable.

love love love x

Hansie Cronje

2011-02-11T13:38:00.000-08:00

How do?

I've just been dealing with the landlord, I really don't trust him.

Against my better judgement I did go to watch the rugby. Whats the point? What are they doing? One girl got very annoyed with me when I was asked what I would do to improve the game and suggested just stopping and playing cricket. England won which is apparently relevant in some way.

This week has mainly been spent kicking puppies in the face. Not literally obviously but thats how its felt having to tell some students that they should think about not sitting certain exams in the summer. The First Certificate Exam in particuliar. The FCE, as we in the biz call it, is the one they all want. It's the one that proves beyond doubt that they can handle themselves in the English speaking world. These last few weeks we have been sitting mock exams. I say we, I've been reading my book while they hate themselves for not knowing whether to put in or on in the box. If they don't get 60 percent on the exam we recommend that they shouldn't sit the real deal as its expensive and you probably won't pass. Most did the 60 percent which was great but a few didn't. The reactions varied from sheer burning self hatred to defiance. I half expected one of them to stand up and shout fuck you at me before swearing to pass the exam just to spite me. They have all been working hard and its horrible to have to tell them that they probably won't be ready. I feel responsible and then we both cry together and the hug the whole thing out.
It will be worse with the teenagers. Their first four classes were an exam, they really hate me already.

I'm still hoping to set an exam like this:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=--TW18e2HPQ

I've started an intercambio! I'm so smug! On Sunday afternoons I trapse down to a cafe meet a serious young lady named, of course, Maria. We speak in English for 15 minutes and then Spanish for 15 and so on and so forth. She is a lot better than me. A lot, lot, better than me. She asks me difficult questions about grammar and the subtle differences between words, I smile politely. She brings a huge pad and writes down everything and hangs on my advice which is strange as you know most of what I say is bullshit. I mumble and stumble through and she gets more and more annoyed as the gender of my articles never matches the gender of my nouns, which is the story of my life. The amount of times she told me, its unA palabrA!! If the word ends in A the article needs to end in A, it's not fucking rocket science, but I just kept doing it again and again and she got frustrated. We have met a few times but I we have already realised that we have nothing to say to each other in any language. My Spanish classes are blowing my mind still but they are useful. The best thing however has been able to gloat at Claire because my Spanish teacher touched my shoulder and according to Claire "he's totally cute." Then we all laugh at her silly American English. In our training seminar the Scottish trainer dismissed the English of around 400 million North Americans as a dialect which is a bit rich from a man who says "laddie".

Alex is here on Thursday!

love love love x

Quiet

2011-02-02T13:51:00.000-08:00

Hola. I'm lost in the swirling vortex one being the usual Spanish bureaucracy and the other being the fact we live in a world where Andy Carroll is worth 35 million English pounds. In fact the nice man who I thought helped me jump a whole stage has actually pushed me back a stage. I don't want to say it was deliberate but the facts speak for themselves.

I've started an intercambio with a Spanish girl called Maria (aren't they all?). Her English is pretty good and as you may expect her Spanish is solid. My Spanish however is not. We spoke for an hour switching languages every fifteen minutes and I managed to hold my own. We made small talk about family, work and oo isn't Spanish/English hard. From what other people have said this is usual and after two or three you are out of things to say, I feel I'm basically at that point now. I need to keep going as I need to speak more Spanish and I've enjoyed being even smugger than normal because I'm doing the smallest amount of work possible on my Spanish. It clearly hasn't done good as at the desk of the town hall when I was trying to explain what I was there for the woman got annoyed and went off to get someone who could speak English.

School is fine though they have given me a new class. It's in a place called Las Rozas. I had no idea where it was so I asked someone and they said it was in the north of Madrid. Lying bastard. What he meant was, north of Madrid, that 'the' makes a huge difference. I should know! I've read something on the subject in a blue box in a text book. I have to get a bus and trapse up out of the city to a school to sit in a room with some strangely quiet teenagers. It's a public school and are very nice unlike the last one which would lock me out. I'm still sulking about it.

The weekend's football went a little mad. We started in our friendly and self deprecating manner. After a few niggly fouls, I got put on my arse in the corner, and some controversial decisions it got serious. There were tactics, match orders werre given and there was an incredible amount of hand clapping. It was 9-9 in the final minutes (an indicator of the standard) and when our team grabbed a winner there were genuine celebrations. The best celebrations however have been me strutting around Madrid hands aloft, chest out. Osasuna beat Real Madrid. My student Miguel came in and straight away I was on his case, how did a team you described as hopeless just knock you out of the title race? Answer me! I saw some of it on TV. The fans were rapid seeing as they hate Madrid and helped their side by throwing balls onto the pitch to confuse the referee, it worked, it's not hard.

I'm being forced to watch rugby on Friday. I'm not happy about it.

love love love x

An Afternoon in the Town Hall

2011-01-25T14:13:00.001-08:00

This conversation was held in broken English and Spanish with an impressive multitude of hand gestures. It has been cleaned up here.

Council Man: What can I do for you?

Me: I need a new NIE number (the number you receive when you register as a foreign resident)

CM: What happened to yours you cretin?

Me: My copy was in a bag that was stolen a few months ago.

CM: Why do you need one?

Me: For loads of things! Because my old foe CAN bank, the Moriarty to my Holmes, has closed in Madrid leaving me without a bank in a last desperate attempt to defeat me. Without an NIE number I can't open a new account.

CM: A passport is enough.

Me: Thats what their website said but, no.

CM: You said it was a copy, that must mean that you sold the original to a Colombian drug cartel, some Jihadists or Russian people smugglers.

Me: My former employer has it, they were shady I grant you but not that bad!

CM: Ask them for it then retard.

Me: I have, no response, CAN has evidently got to them.

CM: Well without one you are aware that in the eyes of the Spanish government you no longer exist.

Me: Well I do have my NIE number here on my contract and here on my old Pamplona healthcard. So I do have it, but apparently those don't count

CM: Well obviously.

Me: Why don't they count?

CM: Because

Me: Because?

CM: Because.

Me: But Pamplona is in Spain surely that counts?!

CM: Nope, Navarra is an autonomous community so no it doesn't count. We need you to prove it was stolen.

Me: Is the police report enough?

CM: We would prefer you had a written account from the guy who took the bag or at least a sketched picture of the event but the report will do. But this doesn't have your NIE number on it!

Me: I know, because the NIE was in the bag.

CM: Well that's no good. You haven't said the NIE was in the bag on this form.

Me: There's no option for it so I ticked other.

CM: Well other could be anything...

Me: I need the number!

CM: Well clearly you can't be trusted with it.

Me: Please!

CM: Well you need to identify yourself with two forms of ID.

Me: I have my passport, what else counts?

CM: Ideally your NIE.

Me: Silence other than gentle sobbing.

CM: Well come on now, its not that bad. You just can't open a bank account, buy things online and just hope to God the police don't stop you at any point. We also strongly advise not getting sick.

Me: Louder sobbing

CM: We can't do anything today. Come back tomorrow and as nothing will have changed we can go through this all over again from tomorrow until eternity.....

love love love x

Spanish Moss

2011-01-18T14:20:00.000-08:00

I love you Chris.

It is as if we never left. I'm back in routine with some new added improvements. I pride myself on making my years resolutions last until at least the first week of Febuary. The main has been to do a little Spanish every day and so far so average. I've just been doing a little and I'm trying to work out whether Spanish is hard or if I'm an idiot, I think its a bit of both. The usual eat better and do excerise has been its usual waste of time. I thought I had set a fair few targets until seeing what a friend from school's resolutions, she is determined to completely cut out joy. My Spanish has been tested and found wanted this week as we have had workmen in. Julia had the misfortune to wake up with water spraying out of a pipe in her room. Some plumbers came and then some more guys came to fill the whole in the roof. Being the only one in at the time I did my best to sound gruff, admire their job and be manly, the sort of man who could do this job if he wanted. I failed but I can't blame the Spanish...

Its been a good week. Went out at the weekend and ended in one of the strangest places ever. It looked like every miserable shopping arcade you get in places like Swindon or Dartford but every shop was actually a metal bar. I'm not one to comment on fashion generally but some of the stuff on display was truly special. The average age must have been 17, mum and dad were on the end of some serious abuse. I had my first run in with the law. It is against the law to drink in the street in Spain but normally the police turn a blind eye. This one didn't. Seeing me with drink in hand standing at the top of some steps he gestured at me from the bottom of them. He gestured writing a fine in his book and kept pointing at me. In my state I didn't quite understand what this could possibly mean so I just stood there looking puzzled which made him annoyed. As he came up the stairs I realised what he meant put the drink down and walked off. He came up and glared at me as he kicked my pint over. Now I know how these guys felt.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=1M8vei3L0L8

Fortunately the number of underage, street drinking Goths distracted him. Of course if he had come over I wouldn't have N.W.A-ed him (yeah I use it as a verb, what of it?) I would have been very polite, smiled a lot and played my best ignorant foreigner card.

Class is back in full swing, lots of new faces, I've lost some students too, which is normal before anyone thinks anything. Some I'm delighted to see the back off, others not so. I have one new student who has been in America and is very good but says things like sidewalk, gas and my favourite, fo sho, like Omar from the Wire. In my corporate class I've been moved up the -1 floor to floor 16. I'll own that tower in no time.

Otherwise I spend my time thinking about Chris. He is our new manager. I normally don't like hero players coming back as manager but its Chris, there should never be a time when he is not at Charlton in some capacity. It's first managerial job so maybe it will be a master stroke. I'm caustiously optimistic. Please don't fuck it up, I couldn't bear it.

love love love x

Dacia

2011-01-10T15:15:00.000-08:00

jalopnik.com/5729853/the-most-insulting-car-commercial-ever-made

Here's a link to a Romanian car advert (in English) I don't get it but God I miss them

x

The King Is Dead

2011-01-10T13:45:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry for the long delay. The reason for this is that I have been busy what with Christmas and more recently giving potential Charlton managerial candidates imaginary job interviews. I hope you had a lovely festive Christmas. I was incrediably lucky that my flight both back home and back here were completely unaffected. Unlike the poor bastards going to Belgium, that was shaping up to be one miserable Christmas. Poor Belgians.

Home was really good! This sounds horrible but I was surprised how much I enjoyed being back. I always like being home unlike most people in TEFL I didn't get into it to run away from home and I can't explain why but it was really good to be back. The most eventful event as it typically is was a visit to Dalston. A little drink before dinner turned into a few hours in one of these trendy bars that are now all over east London. We brought the tone as Alex fell literally on his face, sorry for sharing Alex but it was really funny. Not that I can say anything I briefly fell asleep and was even the tinniest bit sick. That however was the doormans fault. Other than I got in a visit to Cambridge which always makes one feel scholary. So scholary I think I have mispelt scholary, have I? I'm a disgrace to my profession.

I am enjoying work at the moment. In a novel turn we have taken in new teachers and now I look like some weary war veteran with a cigar hanging from my mouth looking at some fresh faced recruits. I feel like shaking them and shouting in their face, something like this

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUc62jD-G0o

Its gone a little to my head, I feel a little dizzy. Most of my classes have involved a quiz about 2010 which had been translated into English. It has been fun and has done wonders for my knowledge of Spanish politics. Apparently there is a shady kingmaker, man behind the throne type, Alfredo Perez Rubalcaba and theres some serious tension between Spain and Morrocco.

Since being back I had my first night out in the new smoke free Spain, I forgot what a huge difference a smoking ban makes. Jonathan rang me on Sunday barely able to contain himself that he had found a cinema showing Tron in English. I'm not a huge fan but I went along and it was ummm. I just had one question that summed up my whole attitude to the film, why? He built an amazing grid! Why? The villian is trying to get into our world! Why? He's building an army! Why? We must see Zeus! Why? But wait Zeus is allied with the villain! Why? This disk on my back contains all the knowledge about the grid! Why? Why? Why? WHY? W*^H%!$Y???

I have to go. I have vowed that I will do some Spanish work every day and I have yet to do any and its three minutes to midnight. I'm leaving it dramatically late.

love love love x

Get Off My Ghost Train

2010-12-19T08:16:00.000-08:00

Greetings from a nervous Madrid. The thought of eating a chicken burger in Burger King at the airport for Christmas has frayed tempers. Teachers are sitting in front of computers, refreshing travel update pages, trying to get a much more detailed weather report than the BBC can offer and calling various airports cunts. To make it worse you have to go onto the Guardian report and listen to some self righteous tosser sitting in his house in Tooting saying things like "why do idiots try and travel at this time of year?" or "I'm reminded how happy I am that I made the decision to live simply, the rewards are clear". Pleased with yourself aren't you? *Bangs head against keyboard*

When not picking fights with people I don't know and I never met I've been getting into the Christmas spirit. I have some presents though as always my Mother's gift is going to go to the wire. I have been to a few Christmas markets, on of which was the busiest place I have ever been. The lights are up in the street, Church is all adventy and we had the office party. We pulled out all the stops to put on our Christmas shindig. It was held in the school cafeteria. I finished class, wandered down to be rammed into a cafeteria, looked at my feet and had some quiche. At one point we were press ganged into having some photographes taken with the ladies from the Spanish department. You know its bad when someone says as you are waiting for the flash that you should just pretend as if we were friends. There was a strict three drink limit (two alcoholic, one soft drink) which was enforced with vigour and IH King even said a few words. I'm being harsh it was fun, but going out after was a lot of fun. It ended at six in the morning so work the next day was a trial. Luckily the morning was all stuff like seminars where attendence is merely "expected" and not compulsory.

Sunday night football is soon becoming a highlight of the week. Such deftness and skill is hard to imagine. I was pretty terrible last time out so I'm hoping to up my game to 6/10 today and if I can't score I least want to take someone out with a hideous two footed challenge. Due to the snow Charlton have barely played in the last month, I have been like a recovering smack addict. I've been shivering, swinging between fever and cold and muttering Thierry Racon's name under my breath. Normal service has resumed in the cricket. It was my fault, the day before I gave Kevin some trash talk and cue a good old fashioned batting collapse.

School is great at this time of year. I get to read my book while students do the exam and then the last class is just listening to Christmas songs and looking at words like elf, north pole and reindeer. Michael Buble's version of Let It Snow works well as the students can get the words pretty quickly though mid way through the second listen through I want Michael Buble to be locked into a sound proof (airtight) box. It truly is a magical time of year.

See you soon for yuletide japes.

love love love x

Lips N' Stuff

2010-12-12T14:02:00.000-08:00

Hello!

When I started teaching it was a little strange. Very strange in fact. Years and years of being a student switched on me and now I was that guy standing at the front trying to come across as calm and authorative or that I know the first thing about cleft sentences. I'm not sure when exactly happened but it has become normal. However it got weird again. It was my first ever parents evening, albeit a parents evening that took place on a Saturday morning. It was strange being on the other side of it.

Parents are crazy! There seemed to be two types. My favourite were the ones that came in and were there for about forty five seconds.

Do they behave? - Yes.
Are they improving? - Yes.
Fine, see you next term.

What heroes. Then there were the other ones. One girl got really good exam marks thats not surprising as her English is probably better than mine. She got the same mark for reading, speaking and listening, all high, but her writing was 0.2 lower but still very high. His face dropped. He assured me from now on she will be writing more at home. He said he'd set her some writing tasks for her to bring to me for check. I felt bad for her as clearly he had very high standards, but then maybe thats why she speaks such good English. That all passed away as soon as realised just what he said. WOAH! WOAH! WOAH! Don't get her to bring me more stuff to mark! You mark it. Some were thrown as normally the students have lower marks in the first report of this year than the last report from last year. I tried to explain that it was because they had gone up a level since then, its more difficult, but that didn't seem to matter. Well that and marks always get better as the year goes as a sly trick to make us look better. Shameful stuff.

The parents were all very nice. We just spoke through their reports. They probably noticed that I had completely forgotten exactly what it was I had written, though I'm pretty sure I managed not to directly contradict myself. I wonder if my teachers were winging it as much as I was? Probably. Luckily my class is lovely so I just got to say wonderful things about their kids which they all enjoyed.

There were a few added complications. It was hard not to giggle when one student was identical to his dad and his sister. One student is always late, his mum apologized saying they live far away so can be difficult so thats why he's always five minutes late. In that case I wonder where he is for the other half hour. I also knew that she is from Croydon and thus a c*****l p****e fan so whenever she was speaking I just had this running through my head

www.youtube.com/watch?v=acAYv8wBotk

Happy times, though how bad is the defending?

Its exam time again so I'm off to look through pages and pages of identical papers, shouting "I never said that!" Marking one classes exam will be easy as by some strange coincidence after I mentioned there was an exam last week only three of them showed up this week. It will be waiting for them. So far the marks have generally been good, I've been so lucky with students this year. It's not a bad way to make a living.

See you soon

love love love x

Skinny Love

2010-12-07T12:28:00.001-08:00

Gather around, it's been a good twenty three years but I fear the end is not much further. Yes that's right I'm ill. Only a short post as I have been in bed for most of the last few days so I've got even less to say and have been boring than usual. Though it has given lots of excuses to have great fun with the word constupado which is the Spanish word for cold. It's only a short post but you may have guessed what it would be about:

YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

How good has the cricket been recently?! It's a long weekend here so I have been able to sit up all night watching internet streams. Some of it has been from Australian TV which normally would be dreadful but was an absolute joy! Greg Chapell is furious! My streams were perfect until the last day when they inevitiably struggled to keep up which caused me to swear loudly at the my lap top at three in the morning much to Julia's confusion. It didn't matter we were so much better than them! This is what it must have been like to be Australian for the last twenty five years. They now know how it feels to be be battered by a superior rival, well they would if any of them could be bothered to support their team. For years the Australians said they wanted a better England team to see some competition, they don't seem so interested now they've got it.

The amount of gloating around, including from myself, is dangerous as its only 1-0 and there are three left to play but it was just so perfect. First time they have lost by an innings since 1993, they looked incapable of taking wickets and England compiling batting records for fun, it was crazy. The universe has shifted, as Mike says I have expect to wake up and realising it was all a beautiful dream.

Even if we lose the rest of the series 3-1, we'll always have Adelaide.

love love love x

POWER

2010-11-30T16:20:00.001-08:00

Ahoy hoy.

I hope you haven't frozen to death yet. There has even been a flurry of snow here. It didn't settle which was lucky. I generally like snow but when you have a flight to catch every flake is like a dagger to my heart. I don't want to get stuck again and Mike has told me a horror story about being stuck in Newcastle airport for three days. Could you imagine?? He survived on cups of tea given to him by Easyjet.

Joining IH Madrid I knew was like joining the big leagues. I was a journey man in a provincial school before being drafted to the capital. A sign of this was last week I was actually observed! Observed! Someone came and sat in the corner, scribbling in a note book every time I said something or made even the slightest hand gesture. Observations are a normal and perfectly reasonable part of the job but in Pamplona they really didn't care. It made me really nervous. I was last observed in Romania and I was worried that I had picked up a years of bad habits and wasn't even aware of it. I had an image of being bundled into a car boot by a desperate manager to get me as far away as possible. I mildly threatened my students the class before. If you fuck me over in the next hour I will hunt you down and kill you, so help me God. They came through wonderfully. It was fine, I'm still employed so no complaints.

It has been the only thing that has taken my mind from the titanic, epic, garguntuan struggle that is the Ashes. The monster rears its ugly head again, a beast that demands your undivided attention. This one is in Australia and thus you have the added dielemma of the first ball being at one in the morning. Just settle down and watch a ball you say, maybe the first hour if I have a late start the next day but then blearly eyed and frantically nervous it consumes your early morning. The next morning you can tell who was watching it. The two Aussie girls at work can rely on a volley of abuse as they strut up into the staff room and wishing you a good morning as if they owned the place. I have been streaming it from the Australian coverage which was unbearable when they were on top but glorious as we batted and batted and batted and batted for the last two days. Alastair has now scored more runs at the Gabba than Don Bradman, this isn't the universe we were living in last week.

Despite only drawing it felt like winning so I feel good which is the exact opposite of how most of Madrid is feeling today. The classico was complete and utter humilation from start to finish. They and to be fair I thought they had a good chance of getting at least a point but Barcelona had their way with them. No kisses, no spooning just a good hard.. well you can finish the rest. The mood in the bar I was in turned very sour expect for a few delighted Atletico fans and Lukash and myself who hate the facist bastards, watching Ronaldo's face just didn't get old, how could it ever? Living in Madrid will not make me warm to Real and I think we can now say (as previously mentioned on facebook) that with the exception of the 97/98 and the 99/00 Charlton sides this Barcelona side is quite simply the best team to ever play football.

We all know that the sporting world is vastly superior to the real world. Without sport one may be forced to face real problems or spending more time preparing your observed class rather than wondering whether what ideas Big Phil has up his sleeve to solve the Pavel Abbot enigma. If anyone can solve that rubix cube its Big Phil.

Its another public holiday this week, Monday and Tuesday off, they really do hate, hate, hate to work. Spanish classes are going well, well apart from level of Spanish which is constantly disappointing. I have hit a bit of difficult stage, I really need to force myself to go any, I wish I was one of these happy go lucky types who hear a new word and are all chirpy but I can't remember the words I know. Fortunatley the cafeteria lady has changed her attitude from contempt to turning me into her pet project, demanding that I ask rather than anyone I may be with who speaks Spanish. It all started when I accidently asked for a glass rather than a bottle of water. She wasn't angry she just loathed me for my foreign ignorance of even simple things. This continued for a few weeks but then she just changed her mind and warmed to me and starts pointing at things and telling me what they are in Spanish and then testing me, which I never remember but she just perseveres, much like you guys have to. My other house mate has now started classes and they will both soon over take me, they are pretty amazing. I can't take credit, they just remember EVERYTHING. One of them asked me what a skank was the other day, I didn't ask where they had come across it. What goes on behind those doors is their business.

love love love x

Knock Back

2010-11-17T13:30:00.000-08:00

Hey there, fancy meeting you here.

I'm only mildly following England's latest debacle, what's the point?

There has been no more dancing since we last spoke. Well only only in my room but that is my business. Instead this weekend was taken up by two mutually exclusive things, boxing and squatting. I don't know anything about boxing. I've always thought that it would be a good sport to get into but it seems pretty impenatrable to the outsider (Jay Boothroyd just came on FOR ENGLAND, English football is dead). So I was looking forward to watching David Haye vs Audley Harrison as a chance to understand a little more. As already noted I don't know very much about boxing but one thing I do know is that to win a boxing match throwing a punch punches is useful, NAY required. It was just watching a guy getting punched in the face constantly for five minutes. Audely Harrison just scrunched up and took a pounding for a lot of money. This led Neil to pose the question, how much money would you need to be offered to get in the ring and let David Haye turn you into mush? Air miles is all I ask. This question kept us busy for a while only to be trumped by one of the greatest questions I have ever been asked, what would your boxing nick name be and what would your ring entry music be? This kept us going for ages. The Queen song 'One Vision' was a popular choice for entry music. I went for 'Renegade Master' as both song and name, just imagine.

The rest of the evening was spent sort of squatting. I don't know how Neil knew it was there but we were led down a dark alley, he knocked on a boarded door and lo and behold we were in a squat that was being used as a bar. It was lovely! I had an image of sitting on the floor, with lots of plastic on the walls but it was much nicer than a lot of bars I have been. Art on the wall, table service, cake! Cake! It was great and everyone was so friendly.

I've kept up the football playing, if Jay Boothroyd can play for England theres still hope. Sunday was fine, however Tuesday was humilating. I got a call and asked whether I wanted to play with Neil's girlfriend Dad and his friends. Mike and myself were told to wait by a roundabout for a man we have never met to pick us up in a car we had never seen. It was filthy and seedy but in a nice way. We though playing against mainly middle aged men would be fine but they gave us a hammering. They tore me apart. At one point, while I was being dominated in midfield, a squat fat man came over and told me it was ok. The same man gave me a lift home and I had to sit between the baby seats in the back of his car and that was a pretty good methaphor for how the game had gone. It's how England must be feeling right about now.

My twitter adventure continues. I was pretty nonplussed by it, I didn't get the point, until I started to follow Chris Gayle, who is brilliant. I quote:

"If I only did get permission to use my private I would reach long time,but they said its a team thing so no argument-I had fis chic rice. Oh"

What does it mean? What does it mean?? Its all like that! Also my dream of being followed by Labour MP Diane Abbot has come true, just not in the way I had in mind.

love love love x
love love love x

The Forbidden Dance

2010-11-08T16:49:00.000-08:00

I am dancer. Yeah, thats right, you heard. Every now again someone comes up with a request that you didn't see coming. I had one of those moments on Saturday night when Jon rang me to go salsa dancing. He had his reasons, that won't be discussed here, needless to say she was very pretty. I went along for moral support and despite my complete failure to even grasp the basic steps had a good time.

On the way there I was thinking that it was going to be some kind of beginners, not too serious sort of arrangement. It was clear within moments that this was very serious, these boys weren't playing. Someone demonstrated the basic steps which sounded and looked very simple. You step forward on your left food while slightly raising your stationery right foot, then you move the left foot back and move your right foot back while slightly raising your now stationary left foot. Doesn't sound too bad but it's really difficult! Or at least its difficult at any sort of speed, and thats before you add spins and anything that maybe in vague time with the music. A very nice girl helped show me and I repayed her by stepping on her feet, kicking her in the shins and at one point virtually kneeing her in the stomach. It was difficult! Then you have to negioiate the minefield of salsa ettiquette. As a man you lead which gives the beginner a whole new headache as the woman, even if a pro, is dependent on you to call the shots like a 1950s dad. Its bad form to turn down any dance and it has to be at least one song even if they are shit, though there seemed to be no rules on looking completely disgusted while enduring it. After Jon and I received these lessons we were ready to salsa it up.

A salsa dance floor is a jungle. Couples literally slam into you, they fling each other and if you are in the way you are going down. They really let themselves go in a way that I have never seen before. Dancing is something I have never done in any form, and based on Saturday's performance I still can't say I have, its something I have always found uncomfortable and awkward. Just what are you supposed to do with the arms? It's something I have never really seen the point of but it was incrediable to see so many people move anyway they wanted, completely unfazed by what others thought. I wasn't able to do the same, you want me to do what with my hips?! I'm not entirely convinced I even have hips. I don't think I'll ever manage it, it couldn't be further from my personality. I managed a few awkward exchanges where in true British style I spent most of the time apologizing. I'm awfully sorry but I seem to have my hand on your waist, oh and I kicked you in the shin again. And again. Sorry.

There were even stranger bits. Three guys on stage doing a sort of raunchy Butlins show. They danced around, grabbing each others balls, fake spanking each other and a general situation of grinding which an enthuastic crowd copied. This was the downside of the whole thing as it was fairly easy to be pretty sleazy. Lots of greasy pony tails and some healthy thrusting. There were some old guys doing the rounds with girls that wouldn't go near them normally, but its rude to decline an offer. I wonder which sex came up with that rule? They were a clear minorty however.

It was fun, I'd recommend it. Though I probably won't be rushing back to perfect my twirls. I'm glad I tried and I'd do it again.

In other news I've joined twitter, what does one do on Twitter? So far I've learnt that Shane Warne eats cake for breakfast (not that much of a surprise looking at him), Floyd Mayweather likes money (don't we all) and the guy who announces the team at Charlton has a head ache. A brave new world indeed. The news in Madrid is there was a near fatal crush at the MTV Awards concert, seeing 30 Seconds to Mars, Linkin Park and Katy Perry will do funny things to anyone. I missed it as I was wathcing a film (in Spanish!), I didn't understand what was going on. The main part involved a horse getting smashed in the face with a sledge hammer. Heavy. I have no idea why but it was harrowing stuff.

love love love x

Say Anything

2010-11-01T13:55:00.000-07:00

Hello, how are you? I hope you are well. It's been noted here that one of the best things about Spain is the number of public holidays. Today is a public for All Saints Day, there is one next week which no one knows of any reason why there is one, there just is. What a country. I'm hoping to make more use of the next one as today I have just been sitting around feeling sorry for myself. It was all halloweens fault. The Spanish have the same attitude to halloween as we do, its not really a big deal other than it is a good excuse to drink while dressed as a zombie. I made the poorest attempt at a costume yet, merely one of those fake knive things that you stick on your head that vaguely resembles being stabbed in the head. Jappery. Seeing some people out and about last night and going on Facebook today there seems to have been some great efforts, so well done. My favourites from last night were a full set of power rangers, Slipknot and a guy on roller skates dressed as a skiier. I thought he was fun at first but in a bar roller skates in a bar get really annoying for everyone else and within ten minutes everyone wanted to push him down some stairs. Most people in the group from work were in things that they could pretty much do with things they already have, cowboy, pirate etc. But for Neil things lying around the house became a convincing Mexican wrestler, I'm not sure what that says about his home life. Fine effort. My highlight however was Felicity lighting a cigarette with a five euro note. It wasn't real, it had been handed to her by a taxi driver and she hadn't realised in her less than sober state but we weren't aware of that at first.

I had my first Spanish class. It was three hours but I want you to know I that didn't cry. It was really hard. My listening is my weakest part, as it was with French and German at school, and having the teacher talk for three hours was tough. I think I'm at the weaker end of the class as there were times when the rest of the class laughed at something that was said and I was completely confused, was there a joke?! It's a little strange being a student again, especially as he does some of the things I do. I see you! I know what you are doing! I know the English equivilant excerise and I know that its main virtue is that its very time consuming. Unlike me though he knew what he was talking about and it was an enjoyable class but by the end of it my head was swimming. Afterwards I teach a three hour class and knowing how they must feel, I felt like going in and hugging them all and we could weep together.

As you all know manliness is something I do particularly well. I once again got to prove this when buying a moderately expensive electrical item. I bought a TV. In the shop I was trying to ask lots of manly questions about wires and specifications and other such stuff. Alas my Spanish was not up to it so instead I tried the tatcic of standing arms folded, nodding and making agreeing noises in an attempt to look like a compotent human being. He saw straight through me. He demonstrated a few things with some pretty out there hand gestures, but it came down to the simple question, "and which of these is the cheapest?" Fortunatley not wanting to watch Spanish TV means I didn't have to humilate myself in an attempt to tune the damn thing, its for a console you see.

love love love x

Pacific Theatre

2010-10-24T13:14:00.000-07:00

Football. Oh football. This week has reminded me what is so great about football. Last weekend, in football terms, was awful as Charlton got battered. I stormed around the flat, grumbling and compiling a list of available managers in my head. Yesterday we played Carlisle away. Carlisle are playing well and at home are very good, only conceding two goals all season, I was not hopeful. Well imagine my surprise after 55 minutes when we were 3-0 up. I was happy, all was right in the world and I felt bad for doubting Phil. When Carlisle scored I got worried but berated myself for my paranoia, its nothing more than a consoliation I said. Well 12 minutes later I had descended into a deep chasm of despair, I don't think thats exaggerating, after Carlisle made it 3-3. I can't really explain how I felt but it was something like this:

But then in the 92nd minute, despite being under huge pressure, we bundled one over the line and snatched a 4-3 win, again I can't really explain but it felt something like this

Sure throwing a three goal lead is incredibly amateur but who cares now? If you can't enjoy a win like that then I wonder why you would watch football in the first place. A degree of incompotence does make for more exciting matches.

My football debut was solid. I managed to score one a half goals. The first was greatly helped by the goalkeeper so I feel I can't claim it as a full goal. The second was Andy Hunt-esque, don't look just hit it and hope for the best, and fortunately it went in. There were elements that more typical, falling over my own feet, blazing an easy chance wide and a complete inability to tackle. But oh well. Some Venezuelan guys came over and asked to join in. With the general fitness, great touch and spatial awareness they soon were giving me the run around. They really were good, in the end a guy from Liverpool clattered one of them, well to British football, if you can't beat them, kick them. Football, football, football.

I successfully negotiated some official work drinks without embarrassing myself. One of my director of studies came over to me in the staff room to tell me about them, with the words IH are paying for the drinks! That's great, let's get trashed! They then clarifed, for the first drink. We formed an orderly line to collect a drink coupon like something from Oliver. I was briefly scoulded by a Dutch girl who thought I had been stood in the same place for too long, but the person I was speaking to was standing there! Work is good, my perfect timetable has taken a bit of a hit but it could never have lasted. The guy knew what he was doing and felt a little bad so he gave me a ruler to try and placate me. It worked. Now it's just waiting for pay day, which really can't come soon enough, much like my passport, which still hasn't arrived! For the money I paid for it I want David Cameron to deliver it by hand. Sorry I'm complaining.

I'm drinking a cup of tea, and I've just read what is on the cup, it's a woman on a mechanical bull and underneath in English it says "You should see the stud that bucked me on Saturday night", no point to this, I'm just shocked!

love love love x

Solid Gold Telephone

2010-10-17T09:14:00.000-07:00

Zidane, Figo, Beckham, the fat Ronaldo, Kaka, the pouting Ronaldo, in a mere few hours the next in the long line of big name, Galactico, Madrid debuts will occur. Yeah, that's right I'm lacing up the boots and promptly putting the boot in. Mind you saying "lacing up" and "boots" is a little misleading. I managed after a search that was more difficult than it should have been to get some pretty rubbish white trainers with some less than charming velcro bits. It seems that Spanish man have the tiny feet of dancers. I however do not, and you know what they say about people with big feet, thats right... big shoes. Old ones are the best and all that. Watching from the sideline is my natural position and dabbles into actually playing are rare. Theres been some trash talking this week, getting into footballs natural mental state, despite not having teams decided. Got to get it in early just in case. A lot of the guys playing are Irish and I have said if I get the chance I will try to Henry the ball past one of them which was met with the threat that I will be De Jonged. If anyone is unfamiliar with these two latest verb additions to the English language, to Henry is to commit a shameless and brazen handball and to De Jong someone is to kick them squarely in the chest, see above. Neil has already informed me that he has an elbow first policy, it could get out of hand. At least whatever happens it can't be worse than whats happening at Charlton, though based on the last few years I wouldn't bet that it will stay that bad at Charlton for long, theres always the possibility it will get much worse.

In the real world, school has been good. I like my groups more and more, especially my teenagers. They seem to be the only group of teenagers, certinanly at our school, and possibly in the world that don't seem to mind being in class on Saturday mornings. At least they can keep their contempt to themselves. The main thing I've been doing with them is watching part of TV programme. The text book has an article about the show 7-up, the one when they come back every 7 years to the same group of people to talk about the life lessons they have learnt. The books talks about Neil so I thought we could watch some, I realised that his life wasn't completely happy but I wasn't ready and neither were the students for the turn it took half way through into homelessness, mental instability and even a few thoughts of suicide. It just got dark in here. Though the thing the students were disturbed by was the sight of a local pantomine, "does that actually happen?". Unfortunately yes it does. I just looked up what happened to Neil next, fortunately it gets better, he's healthy and just ran to be the Lib Dem MP for Carlisle, so there you go. I'll leave any political jokes to your good selves, with the exception of Phil Parkinson, I try not to kick someone when they are down.

Julia managed another class well, switching from future to past as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I think she has a new boyfriend otherwise I don't have any idea who the guy with green trousers in the front room has been for the last few days. Though maybe Julia looks at him and thinks he's my new boyfriend as she doesn't seem to be around most of the time. Coloured trousers are something I can neither forgive nor forget, but he's nice so even if he is just a stranger it could be a lot worse.

I really like Madrid but Madrid might not like me as some hilarious prankster threw an egg at me from a moving car. Strangely it broke but I got no egg on me which I couldn't work out. I wanted to be more annoyed but more annoyingly I found myself admiring the shot, it was a fair distance and right on the neck and from a moving car must have been tricky. Fair play you bastard.

love love love x

A More Perfect Union

2010-10-10T13:09:00.000-07:00

Some questions come back to you again and again and some never really go away, why won't they give me a new passport? Why won't someone tell Formula 1 to stop, just stop. Or what's the point of Flo Rida?

The question we were posed this week was, what exactly is a "duotang"?

Can you eat it? Or wear it? Maybe, it's a small dog. We were posed this question by a Canadian, who was able to have some revenge. She has often been wrong footed by our delightful British patter while due to TV we were all aware of Americanisms/Canadianisms, until she said duotang. The problem is she don't spoke proper guvnor. It turns out that its a folder! A folder! In particular the thin ones with a see through plastic cover. This is what happens when you are from America's hat. We have agreed in the spirit of cultural awareness and friendship that she will speak more British/correctly and I will try to speak more Canadian. I need you to ensure that if I'm home and I say the word eraser, as I did yesterday, you will stamp it our roughly.

I was given a chance to formally evaluate how my Spanish is with a level test. A very jolly woman chatted to me and was very nice and then she whacks a mark on the paper and leaves. But I thought we were friends? Annoyingly another woman came over and without talking to me lowered my mark, what a bitch. I had a little grammar quiz which started well but got harder and ended with a tear stained paper. The final conclusion was A1+. A1+ sounds really good, its sounds like it might be the best, but it isnt, it's rubbish. I'm pretty sure the plus is a sympathy plus. Its still elementry and nearer beginner than intermediate. It was pretty disappointing but not because I feel I should be higher but because its where I belong and after a year I should be higher. It really motivated me for 10 to 15 minutes but then it stopped, but then that's the problem.

Someone who is motivated is my housemate Julia, who as part of her course needs to learn English. She asked for lessons and we just finished the first one. She treated the differences between will and going to with contemptous ease.

The first week was good, I don't even mind working on Saturdays. I'm getting to know people a little better. One girl went to the same school as my mum, which my grand mother throughly approves of. I'm beginning to like Madrid more and more, come and see!

love love love x

I Am Connecting Flight

2010-10-01T04:46:00.001-07:00

Hello everyone! Its been a good and eventful week. The school is amazing. I knew Pamplona was far from well organised but this puts it to shame. IH Madrid is a huge school, six big centres, 20 public schools, hundreds of businesses (including big institutions like the Bank of Spain), thousands of students and hundred of teachers, and so far it has run like clock work. I've been given some training withg kids rather than given a group of kids and told to work it out, theres a support system and a management structure! It's nice to be back in a school that takes learning English seriously. I was very happy with anything, then I was given my timetable, which is exactly what I wanted, blocked hours in one centre! To make things better everyone is lovely. Remember last post when I said I would pay later for my good journey? This good start also added to my suspicions, my mother called me paranoid but lo and behold, I have had my set back.

Some thieving bastard took my bag. For one of the few times in my life I put down my bag and then thought that it wasn't safe so moved it next to my knees. I was surronded by other teachers and some still had it away. He must have been millimetres from me and four others and yet no one saw anything. Later in the afternoon I was told Madrid bag snatching and pickpocketing is sadly common. My flatmate used the example as one more demonstration of the superiority of the Northern Spainards. Fortunately there was only one valuable thing it, but it unfortunately it was very valuable, my passport.

Today I headed up to the embassy, which is very swanky, to apply for a new one. What can I say? British bureaucracy, best in the world. I was told (by a Spanish woman) that being born after 1982 means I'm not sufficently British enough to warrant automatic citizenship. Thatcher is to blame for that law, the bitch. I have to jump through hoops, fill in a lot of paperwork and get people to vouch for me that I truly am British. After that maybe I'll have to sing the other four verses of the anthem, kiss a picture of the queen, make a cup of tea and stand in a perfect queue.

I have to get the picture signed by someone I have known for two years to say the picture is an accurate likeness. Only someone who has known me for two years can see that the picture is me, it's not like they trust airport security to do that job in 2 seconds. I also need to get all the paper work signed by someone I have known for two years, is a British citizen, not in my family and strangely from a list of accepted professions. When I told them that I haven't known anyone in Madrid for two years, she told me I should have lied because they have no way of knowing that you've known them for two years. Then she (the same Spanish woman) proceeded to give me a little lecture on British culture. She said we British are a trusting people, happy to take people at their word (apparently thats why we don't have ID cards) and they would have taken my word if I said I knew them for two years. I'll leave you to come to your own conclusions. I asked if she could take my word that the form is correct so I didn't need the signature but that didn't go down well.

My first class is in a few hours, a three hour epic on the topic of change. Its going to be special.

love love love x

Dollars and Cents

2010-09-26T04:51:00.000-07:00

Hola! I made it! The journey went smoothly which makes me paranoid as I will have to pay for that later but so far so good. I emerged from the metro onto street for the first time and was in a great mood. It was lovely and sunny and there was a man playing an accordion, which I now already know is a common occurance. My good was unaltered by the fact that I saw a huge billboard from my school within thirty seconds. I met my new flat mate Antonio who is very nice. My Spanish was tested to its feeble limits but I was pleased with how much I understood and how much I could say, but as I got more tired it fell off a cliff and it became more a struggle. I'm hoping I'll learn a lot.

It turned out to be a strange day. Antonio is a keen amateur photographer. He said he and some friends were going to Toledo to photograph an event and asked me if I wanted to come along. I couldn't quite catch what was going on in Toledo, something to do with a war. I was thinking of maybe a civil war memorial, or maybe something to do with the medieval wars in which Toledo was an important part. Then I heard that it was to mark a 30th anniversary which kept me wondering as to what war it could possibly be. Star Wars. It was Star Wars. Around 30 guys descended on Toledo to march and display their light sabre prowress. I don't know why they choose Toledo but then what do I know? I can't even quote the entire script of the Empire Strikes Back. A marching band played the Star Wars theme and nerds dressed as storm troopers marched through the medieval streets. There was then a light sabre fight but they were being careful, despite the sabres being the cheap plastic ones, so it had the effect of it being in slow motion, which in my mind at least made it much better. I had fun but I don't think I can say the same about the guys involved, but they were taking it very VERY seriously. It just does prove that even if I do manage to understand most of what someone says in Spanish it the small parts can make a big difference! Possibly a controversial point, but I don't understand the fuss about Star Wars, I like Star Wars but why anyone would dress as a bounty hunter thirty years later beats me.

It's already very different to Pamplona. No signs of anything Basque, lots more Spanish flags. I've been constantly reminded that apparently Spain have recently won some type of international football tournament. Lots more people but fortunately it doesn't feel to crowded. Somethings are similiar, banks are backwards and most things are still shut on a Sunday which I still find really frustrating.

I have my first of two inductions on Tuesday, it's a full day and involves something called a 'webinar'. It's time like this I become a grumpy old man. Fortunately I'll have day to recover from my grumpiness as there is a general strike on the 29th. By default I'm striking in solidarity, in your face 'the man'. I'm still nervous, especially when I got sent a copy of the code of conduct today, apparently this school doesn't stand for sexual harrassment... drat.

I miss you already

love love love x

Sofa Core

2010-09-20T13:40:00.000-07:00

Hola! Sorry for the sporadic posting this summer hopefully by Saturday it will have picked up again. As by Saturday the long summer will be over and it will be time to be a constructive, motivated young go getter once again / for the first time. I can't wait to be honest. I like summer as much as the next man but its time for this one to end. It seems to be a recurring theme but it doesn't seem real that on Saturday I'll be back living abroad. Everyone asks whether I'm excited, I always say yes but whenever do I think about it I just get nervous. It's a big school, hundreds of teachers, an army of students and I'm sure they will be much more aware of what I'm doing. In Pamplona they were pretty laid back, leaving you to get on with things but Madrid have already made it clear that they will be much more omnipresent. THERE WILL BE WORKSHOPS. I'm a little nervous that the laid back attitude of Pamplona may come back to bite me. My nerves got greater when I realised that the woman who interviewed me literally wrote the book on business teaching. Someone I already know has started work today, so hopfully interogate them and find out more. What's the worst that could happen?

I've been getting about a bit this week, not like that, I was treated to a trip to Hatfield on Friday. It's not as bad as it was made out! We did have to spend a while in a bad boy pimpers garage reading OK magazine as tires were fitted. They didn't even offer us anything from the espresso bar, a garage with an espresso bar, the times they are a changing. Over the weekend it was off to St Neots to see Shiner. A night out there is eventful. Two groups of guys kicked off and we had a pretty serious disagreement with a ginger guy who thinks that its ok to racially slur people and then gets upset when people object to it. Should have seen Shiner, what a trooper. I need him in Spain in case someone tells me to go back to my own country. I would probably deserve it though.

I had a novel experience on Sunday of watching Real Madrid on TV and supporting them. I got to the seventh minute and couldn't go on. There' something just so inheriently unlikable about them. The hair gel, the pouting, the supreme over-arching arrogance and sense of entitlement. The NINE European Championships. NINE! Thats obscence! Any Charlton will tell you, winning and even goal scoring is a vulgar pursuit. Wouldn't find us lowering ourselves to such a level, we transcend. I don't think I'll be able to warm to them and this could be a problem as I don't like any of the Madrid teams and last time I was there within 20 minutes I had already had two conversations about Real and Atletico. I'm alienating myself already.

In other news, my mum passed an exam about poo (sadly not joking), friends have been hurting themselves constantly (please be careful I don't want you to be next) and according to this wrapper a catfish has 250,000 taste buds... tasty.

love love love x

I Wanna Be An NY Ranger

2010-09-10T14:20:00.000-07:00

What ever happened to the ordinary boys? Weren't they popular once? I ask because I was flicking through TV when Big Brother appeared (I was flicking through, honest!) and that one that was married to the blonde one was on.

Anyway, I'm being distracted.

Things have moved on since we last spoke. I'm officially back off to Spain on the 25th. I'm moving to Madrid! I'm hoping the Basques I know and the honourary Catalans of this here blog will not disown me. It's very exciting. I treaded water for a long time about what to do next year, indecisive as ever. The masterplan now is one more year of TEFL before a PGCE and having to be a like a proper grown up type. Ask me again in ten to fifteen minutes and I'm sure it will be entirely different. No excuses about visting this time!

The flat hunt is over, thank God, but it was not without one last sting in the tail. For once I was organised and rang the bank to ask what I needed to transfer money abroad. A very nice man (or so I thought!) told me all I needed is this special number. I walked confidently into the branch with my special number and all the landlords detail. The women at the desk, I'll call her Beryl, looked at me with confusion. Beryl had no idea what this number was and told me I didn't I have the Iban number. This was the deadline day so I ran home worked out what the hell and Iban number is ran back, for their fucking printer not to to work. It took twenty minutes before they had the brain wave of using the other printer. I didn't even know they had another printer!

As you all know I'm an uncultured sport lout. However, the great civilizer (Alex as he is more widely known) has introduced me to the theatre. I've seen two plays within a week, I enjoyed both and I think I was the only one! Maybe like my nan I just enjoyed being out of the house. I really enjoyed the whole experience, the sets and seeing actual people rather than a screen was really enjoyable. My favourite bit though was the man next to me at the second who I suspect maybe an actor himself. He gasped in horror, laughed at points where no one else did and at the dramatic climax held his hands high above his head, he was deeply, deeply worried. He spoke to me at the end and was lovely as well as highly dramatic.

Off the point again, I fucking love News Night.

I hope I find you well

love love love x

Steve Bull

2010-08-30T10:53:00.000-07:00

There has been a little flury of Spanish activity, and as it's not about its failing economy it must be about animal cruelty!

www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/aug/30/catalan-fire-bulls-face-ban

Some may they deserve it

www.guardian.co.uk/world/video/2010/aug/19/bull-escapes-ring-spain-video

love love love x

It Started with a Mixxx

2010-08-25T12:24:00.000-07:00

It's still raining. Looking out of my window this morning I thought to myself that it couldn't last long, that was ten hours ago. Come home Mark, it's lovely here Mark, don't need to be in Spain for nice weather Mark. Fuckers. The weather has put me in a bad mood, its August! Normally it doesn't bother me but the last few days the rain has seemed to be waiting for me to go outside to do it worst.

It was Grandads birthday, he was given the choice of whatever he wanted to do and as anyone else would have done he choose Dover castle, obviously. Any trip to Dover Castle is brought down by needing to go through Dover which is something to be avoided like cancer. I learnt many things about medieval history of which I now can't remember any. Something to do with kings, knights and the French, always the French. That nots quite true as I do remember what a lovely young lady dressed as a lovely young medieval lady, told me. The castle was used by the military right up until 1958, how a medieval lady knew that I don't know, but its stuck in my mind which is something I will remember if I ever have exams to revise for again. When the time comes I'm still thinking of doing a PGCE and walking around the castle made me think that one day I might have to do this again with 100 bratty kids.

The theme continued yesterday. Another day another castle with some friends we that I used to work with at Waitrose. Nothing says excitement like a small castle tour of Kent. This time it was Rochester which reverses the situation of being a boring castle but a town that doesn't make you want to kill yourself. Rochester is nice, full of vintage shops which being with two girls meant I spend a lot of time in looking at flowery dresses from 1936 and debating whether buying fur from decades ago is ok. The real question is why would anyone wear a fur coat real or fake?

The rain is getting heavier, least I'm inside this time, bastards.

Matt was back and it was so nice to see him. I finally got to meet his lovley girlfriend Hannah. Going back out in Gravesend was truly lovely. A young English rose challenging a fellow to fisticuffs for looking at her chips was my personal highlight.

The search for a flat grinds on and on and ever on, help me relieve the tedium!

love love love x

The Theme from Cheers

2010-08-17T13:02:00.000-07:00

Hello!

I've just returned from Cambridge. It really is a lovely place. I've never been to Oxford but after this weekend as far as I'm concerned it's shit. It was lovely to catch up with people, it does seem that most people I know are moving/have moved to Cambridge. Sophie and Kelvin's new house is lovely even without furtniture which made everyone walking past think we were squatting. Mark showed as the tourist sights, of which there are many, including a medieval armoury (my highlight being the armoured man pouches), a church tower which destroyed my legs (so much for the gym)and a clock that looks a dragon innit. I daresay there was some ale consumed.

My landlord flirting has reached whole new levels. After finding a new site it's reduced me to be being a shameless hussey. On this site one must flutter your eyelashes by using the "Register your Interest" button and to contact that person they must recipricate. If they have a little look at your profile and don't like it they can ignore you and your left to sit on the side of the virtual dancefloor looking at your feet and burning with self loathing. But then maybe I look too much into these things. I've had a few young things look back at me but as yet no deals have been sealed. The lingering suspicion remains and is proably not the best start to any potential relationship. If you register your interest it shows on your profile and so does anyone else. Well some of the same characters keep appearing, Irene, if that is in fact her real name, Sergio and Tomas. It's on, we'll see won't we? Remember if you do get it ahead of me, I do know where you live! Thats not the sort of sentence that comes back to bite you.

Other than that life is normal I spend a lot of time listening to my sister argue with her boyfriend and have taken to listening to politics lectures in order to gain some opinions that I can try and pass off as my own. It will also outbalance the football watching. While writing this I've been supporting Young Boys (real name) against Spurs, I found myself encouraging them with a "come on Young Boys!" again not the sort of sentence that could ever come back and bite you.

This weekend will be much better as theres a top of the table clash between the mighty undefeated (in games that count) Charlton against some team from Oldham. That's followed by Matt making his glorious re-entry home from that rural bit of England on the Welsh border which no one knows a damn thing about. And thats not it, oh no, its Grandads birthday on Sunday which could get off the hook if hes back on the gin in the afternoon. I'm really looking forward to it.

love love love x

Maggie's Farm

2010-08-10T13:55:00.000-07:00

I have been chatting to potential landlords. It's a teensy weensy little bit frustrating. The biggest problem is that we blantly don't trust each other. I think they are some one sitting in a room somewhere showing me pictures of his sisters flat in an attempt to get me to send them some money. They think I'm a timewaster, destroyer of flats. One of them is really rather strange so I thought I'd put some of his insights here.

Dear Dear,

it is me, who you wish to rent flat from. i and my family were delighted to hear that you wish to live in our flat. we spend much money to get it a good look and we hope and we pray that you are the one. i say we sell the flat but my wife said NO! (she's stern yet fair) she said to hope and pray to God that someone would come. you are the answer to pray. i move to London to work for the church of God, i prayed that good man and family will come my way. we put it all in God's hands. (no pressure there then)

i must know these things:
full name:
age:
address:
age:
children:
age:
pets:
smoker:
job:
age:
date of birth:

am working on a sea (I thought you worked in a church in London?) so am a very busy person and also since you are in Uk it will be easy (what will be easy?)

We work on trust and if you do wish to rent this flat I would appreachiate a months depoist sent in advance, preffably the end of the week. (his English suddenly improved)

Worringly, thats copied and pasted. This is what I've been dealing with for the last week and its making me a little pissy. I'm thinking of applying for a pgce and starting looking into that is also head ache inducing but I shouldn't complain as it has given me a project. A very dull one but still.

love love love x

Swing and a Miss

2010-08-05T09:14:00.000-07:00

Hola chicos

I have just been sitting smugly thinking how good my Spanish is as I conversed with a miserable sounding Spaniard banker. Thats right I phoned a Spanish bank. I need to close it and move the money to my English one as it turns out I can't check my balance here and its very frustrating. I rang up started talking and you could actually hear her deflate in the knowledge that this was going to be a difficult conversation and she really can't be doing with it. I can't understand banks in English (along with gym instructors and history) so I was dreading it in Spanish but it was ok. I said what I needed to say (Did I mention it was in Spanish!) and she understood! She understood! Sure, she couldn't help me further but small victories.

When not basking in the glow of my feebly low level of Spanish, I've been basking in the glow of the little black box that now lives in my room. I've been morally and fiancially irresponsible and bought an xbox. There goes any chance of my Spanish improving. There I was reading, excerising and socializing, but that all stops now. Now starts hours of sititng in a dark room, bashing a key pad and weeping gently.

Apart from that my poor sister is in hospital. She's had a small operation on her nose. I've just been to visit. She was surprisingly chirpy before crashing. Hospitals are weird places. The old women across from Claire spent the whole visit time talking about how bad these times are in comparison to a time when we were at war with the Nazis while the woman next to Claire was staring at a bed pan in disgust/wonder. Hospitals are also the best response to Daily Mail anti-immigrant types. If immigrants go away the NHS will collapse within fifteen minutes.

Other than that we visited Alex to spend time being cool in London and witnessed a great Kentish batting collapse. Still won it! Have it Essex!

love love love x

Ginger Beer

2010-07-26T13:06:00.000-07:00

Its been lovely being home. It's been lovely to see everyone. I've started back at the gym. Its still an inheritinely degrading experience. We've had some excursions to the seaside, walks in the countryside, its all been very famous five.

The highlight was todays trips. Aren't animals amazing? After months of increasingly less obvious suggestions a hardy group of us made the epic trawl across the great plains of the South to Longleat. It was a proper little day trip. At six in the morning the car was not the cheeriest of places, especially when caravans rear their ugly heads. Why do people do it to themselves? But after a filthy roadside breakfast, you're ready to go.

At the start I'm usually not bothered about animals but by the end I end up chooing and clucking like an idiot, speaking in a stupid voice. Meerkats normally bring this unpleasant side out of me the most and they did again.

Though the my favourite animal today may have been a gorrilla. He is 47 which apparently for a gorilla is like being 100 for a human. He sits on an island by himself and apparently if you try to introduce other animals to the island he will throw whatever he has to hand at them until they are taken away. He has a TV on which he likes to watch Sponge Bob. He is my hero, when I'm old thats what I hope I'm going to be like. Its worrying when the ranger described the gorilla as liking bright colours, moving pictures and sleep, but thats what I like.

An animal I swear I'm never going to be like is the fucking Pelican. We were driving around minding our own business when a pelican stepped into the middle of the road and refused to move. John edged forward sure he would just pop out of the way, but he was not to be moved. He then took out his beef on the front of John's car and a ranger had to move the miserable bastard on. Lions? Tigers? Wolves? No, we were rescued from a pelican, but it was a pelican with a bad attitude and a point to prove.

Other activitites of day included John and myself demonstarting just how bad a pair of losers we can be when beaten to the centre of hedge maze, feeding some deer and fighting over ipods.

Hope you are all well, I'd let you on my island to watch Sponge Bob

love love love x

Well Quite

2010-07-16T14:13:00.000-07:00

A bit delayed but here a few pictures from San Fermin. I didn't take many as I don't want to be one of those people who can't remember actually being there as they were too busy taking photographs. But these photos do demonstrate the main theme of San Fermin, people everywhere! Everywhere!

Pamplona's population is around 200,000 but for 9 days it becomes 1,200,000. Tent villages are put up around the city but its not enough and you find people asleep everywhere. Parks, bus stops, benches, anything surronding a tree. The streets are full everywhere and the bars are rammed. The biggest foreign groups were the Americans and the Australians and it was strange to walk around Pamplona and hear English everywhere.

What I really liked about it was that there was little organised entertainment. With the exception of fireworks, a few processions and some local bands people were left to entertain themselves. This means people mingle together and can enjoy the company of friends. Some people invent more creative ways of keeping themselves busy, my favourite example being jumping of a 15ft statue and relying on the crowd to catch you. From what I saw they always did. It is probably the greatest credit to the whole event that everyone is just there to have fun with everyone. I didn't see any trouble or hassle, everyone was so relaxed. There was room for the hard drinkers and there was room for families to stroll with young children.

Due to the circumstances I couldn't get to close to the bull run. You need to be pretty dedicated! Normally there are nine occasions but unfortunately I had to fly, so next time. I was pretty disappointed but you realise that actually its only quite a small part of the entire festival. Next time.

My highlight was the opening when people cram into the square outside the town hall and lift the red neckerchief into the air, screaming and shouting to fire the fireworks to signify the start of the festival. The balconies above were crammed and they threw buckets of water down onto the crowd. Wine is flying everywhere through the air and within five minutes of the start the white everyone is wearing is filthy. Wearing a neckerchief legitimately has to be an obvious highlight. Then your left to get on with your drinking which can be as messy or civilized as you like.

Hopefully when I collect some more photos I can put up some more interesting ones!

love love love x

Octopus's Garden

2010-07-11T16:46:00.001-07:00

They did it! All the depressive mood swings, paranoia and conspiracy theories have been replaced for jumping and cheering with painted faces. Living the dream. They deserved it over a horribly disappointing and cynical Dutch side. I'm genuinely pleased for them.

I've always liked the Dutch team. Every tournament I want them to win but they never do. Usually they play beautifully only to lose to the first decent, organsied side. This year they played ugly and got all the way to the final and usually I would be supporting them without question (obviously the prospect of playing England in a final is exactly zero) but they were playing an adopted country. Despite this my support for Spain was slightly underwhelming until kick off and then realising that actually I really really wanted them to win. Lots of foreign guys at CLEN support whoever is playing against Spain but I wanted them to win and for once the team I wanted to win, did!

Spain were much better. They are a fantastic side. Anyone who thinks they are boring are footballing philistines. They are victims of their own success. If Usain Bolt 'only' wins a race without smashing a world record then it goes down as a disappointing performance. Spain win a World Cup without being at their incredible best. That probably tells you just how good they are. People who think Spain are rubbish will have a difficult job in explaining away how they are currently European and World Champions. People scoff at their passing but that says more about England's outdated ideas on how to play football than it does Spain. It wasn't a classic match, but I didn't think it was terrible, but I'm sure Spain don't give a single, solitary shit. They are an era defining team

I hope you noticed Javi Martinez wearing his San Fermin neck wear. I also wonder about players like him. He has a World Cup winners medal but didn't play a game. Hows does he feel? Is he happy?

I was disappointed in Holland who were poor and very very cynical. There was a real lack of dignity in the face of defeat. Howard Webb will come into criticism for the amount of cards but most of them were completely indisputible. If anything De Jong, at least, should have been sent off for a karate kick to Xabi Alonso's chest.

It wasn't the best World Cup but I think it was better than a lot of people are giving it credit for. What I'm most pleased about is all those obituaries of European football that were written after the group stages need to be withdrawn after a European 1,2,3.

The octopus was right.

Four years to the next one, come on England! Four weeks to the domestic season, come on Charlton!

Non-football fans despair.

love love love x

Get Home, Get Down

2010-07-04T11:43:00.000-07:00

Greetings everyone from what will probably be the very last post from Pamplona, it's been emotional. The city is very strange at the moment. A big stage has been put up in the main square (it plays Dire Straits Money for Nothing fairly regularly and loudly which is infuriating), food stalls and portacabins have appeared everywhere and the saftey barriers are up in the streets. San Fermin starts on Tuesday and its already inescapable. Everything has a red and white colour theme and with the exception of the Spanish football team its the talk of the town. I'm only here for a day and a bit but it will be good for the damn thing to actually start rather than just listen to everyone speaking about it and doing that strange facial expression they do. It's half shrug, half wink. Pamplona is a small and inherintly conservative city but it goes crazy for a few days every summer, its going to be bizarre.

The kids camp ended in the week. My word, kids are tiring. But it has led me to revaulate my opinion of children from they are all bad, bad at a spiritual core level like Bon Jovi, to that some of them are cool. It was a lot of fun. I didn't really have any ideas on how to entertain children but I have a much better idea now and have learnt a few simple rules. The words 'maybe later' can only hold them off for so long, they are always more interested in the contents of your bag and they are persistent, oh dear God they are persistent. The big difference between the UK and Spain is that here you are encouraged to make physical contact with the kids. They expect hugs and if they don't get one they will hug you. It was nice that I could give one of them a hug when she was crying (and crying and crying) without being scared of being called a sick pervert. The down side is that they have no qualms grabbing and pulling you and even at one point a full slap to the arse and a goosing from an eight year old boy. They keep you on your toes, like asking you to hold a prosthetic arm, one girl liked to take her t-shirt off at random intervals, something the Spanish state is less tolerant about, and had to be convinced to put it back on. Dan described her as "that awkward age between 10 and 15 years in prison". The sports day bordered on farce but my team did very well and may have even won depending on which set of scores you looked at. So all in all it was an eventful week.

It was also the last act of my CLEN contract. All the classes are done, the paper work is signed and the good byes said. Over the last few days our numbers are dwlinding and dwindling. It's sad but they all have their next set of plans which is exciting to. I've been very relaxed about getting ready to leave so tomorrow I have a big day ahead to get organised, when will I learn? Its been a good few days since finishing work. The football is working out well (as long as Uruguay don't win I'm happy!), I've undergone a sandal revolution and the weather has finally picked up. I feel a lot more positive now about the future and about the we've spent here in Pamplona. I think I'm just a sucker for good weather. Saying all that I'm looking forward to moving on.

See you in Summer

love love love x

Oh Me Oh My

2010-06-28T02:53:00.001-07:00

I'm going to have a little rant based upon England's latest debacle.

It was embarrassing just how bad we are and how we are still ten years behind the top teams in the world. We got torn apart with pace and precision, something we are incapable of. Though I'm not sure what we expect when you have average players you get average results. We don't produce many world class players. Argentina can leave Aguerro and Militio on the bench, if we need to chase the a game we bring on Emile Heskey and Shaun Wright-Phillips. Victor Valdes has won 2 champions leagues and can't get on the pitch, Spanish goalkeepers have four Champions Leagues between them, we have one FA cup medal between ours. Its nothing to do with how many foreigners play in England. As Aresene Wenger said if you are good enough it doesn't matter where you come from, if there were more quality English players there would be less foriegners in the premiership. Managers choose the players they believe will win them games, the problem is those players aren't English. If you don't believe me where are the next generation from? The next generation of younger English players is even smaller than the current group. Not enough technique, can't pass the ball well enough, we still confuse running around and clapping a lot as being good at football. Its nothing to do with passion or pride, it's to do with not being very good at modern football. Sky and the tabloids just hype and hype. The England players wanted to win but aren't capable. The Germans had a dreadful Euro 2000 and they dedicated themselves to training better youth players and ten years later those youngsters ran all around our 'Golden Generation'. I doubt we will do the same. By the way Germany have gone further than us in every world cup since 1966 including winning two to bring their total to three, we haven't even got to a final. With the exception of Argentina in 2002 we have never beaten a former world cup winner in the World Cup. They are vastly superior so shut up about 1966 and don't even start me on the cunts in ww2 RAF uniforms.

Don't let Lampards goal cloud just how poor we are compared to what was called an "average" German side, if thats average then we are dreadful. Already people are talking about, we need to play the English way, yeah because thats worked for the last 44 years. We need an English manager, yeah that worked for Euro 2008 qualification. Spain have over 14,000 UEFA trained A-licence coaches, Germany have 8,000 we have just over 1,000. We need to go back to the drawing board and start again. It will take ten years and a lost generation to get young English players to be truly competitive.

As for being in Spain now, its the sympathy that kills you

love love love x

Ambling Alp

2010-06-24T06:32:00.000-07:00

Hmm. This may look like a two bits of coloured tissue paper with a stick stuck through and a further piece of green wrapped around it in an attempt to make a flower. That is however, where you are wrong. You have to look through the flower. How does it challenge your preceptions of what a flower is? What does it say to you about where flowers have come from? Why the stick? Why this combination of colours? Oh boy is it deep. The little artist behind it is a lovely girl who was very insistent that I should receive this work of art. We expect big things.

The camp is ok. There's no teaching involved, its just babysitting when the kids don't know what their babysitter is saying to them. The kids, or at least the kids I have to spend any real time with are really great and are a lot of fun. It's fair to say that the organisation leaves a lot to be desired, but the kids have been very understanding. The biggest problem is that with 105 children in a sports hall you really need more than 10 pictures of road signs to keep them busy for four hours. the real eye opener is going into the nursery, the horror, the horror. Its sports day tomorrow which I'm very excited about. Being on the other side of the humilation will be a nice change. I hope to have a chance to drill the kids into ruthless winning machines.

All my adult classes bar one are finished. Finishing classes is weird. I've seen these people twice a week for the best part of nine months. I like all of them and I feel I know them pretty well and then you just stroll out with a thank you and see you around. It's sad that I'm unlikely to see them again mixed with happiness of not going to a smelly dishwasher factory in the middle of nowhere at half seven in the morning. My time at CLEN ends on Tuesday and thats when the minefield of contracts, landlords and the leak coming through our ceiling has to be tackled. Again, hmm.

My life has been made so much easier by the brave, brave England overcoming Slovenia. They were much better weren't they? It sets us up against the Germans and assuming the big teams win, our route to glory is Germany followed by Argentina then Spain then Brazil. Once again, hmm. But we are English and after one win we can resume assuming that Johnny Foriegner will quiver at the approach of our brave boys. Rest assured I would love it, love it, if we beat Germany. I just hope we realise soon that the Germans really don't see us as rivals.

Flashy new blog eh? Let's do something this summer

love, love, love x

Primary Colours

2010-06-16T09:17:00.000-07:00

Oh, Spain. What have you done? You can literally touch the deflation. Since Saturday there have been a lot of smug students full of Rob Green jokes but how the tables have turned. The bar I was in had flag drapped people who were screaming for a penalty pretty much constantly but by the whistle it was silent. Isn't football brilliant?

It has been a busy weekend. I went down to Madrid and it was a great weekend. We went down to see Rage Against the Machine, and they really were worth the wait. I literally poured out every ounce of angst I had and left wanting to find and destroy the nearest Mc Donalds. I never realised how obscenly talented Tom Morello is and there is not a man on this planet angrier than Zac De La Rocha. They were ably supported by Cyprus Hill, who were a lot of fun, unlike the other support Jane's Addiction.

On Saturday we watched the England game surronded by Americans who had little idea of the rules and were full of expressions, like "good hussle!" and "get back on d!". I love them. There was some proper culture as well with a trip to a gallery and a the bull fighting museum. It was a strange museum, every bull that has killed someone in Madrid has had its head mounted on the wall. They still have the blood in their hair, its pretty horrible. We did watch some bull fighting on tv and its a strange experience. It's a long process with three parts. The first a man on a horse stabs the bull with a spear, the second is the worst when men run at the bull in all directions and stick small spears into it and only the last stage is the bull fighter. It is difficult to see the blood and the death of the bull is just it falling over so it wasn't as gory as I expected. In the end I didn't feel like I was watching art but also I didn't feel angry, just sad. The inenvitiabilty and pointlessness of the whole thing, the pomp and ceremony for killing a proud animal that never stood a chance.

We went on a tour of the Bernabeau. It's alright, no Valley of course. The trophy room was I suppose a little impressive, when looking at their nine European Championships I couldn't help think, didn't win the FA cup in 1947 though, did you? Madrid is wonderful. I had no image of it in my head but it was great and its nice to see it for yourself, it not as full of fascists as some people would like you to believe!

I'm surronded by paper at the moment, I fear drowning in it all. There are exams everywhere! They are lurking in all corners, waiting to pounce. They have found willing allies with a large pile of reports and rewriting some projects. The biggest thing however is arts and fucking crafts. For a week I have to spend mornings helping kids to make loveable but poor nic nacs that parents will pretend to love, be forced to display through the embarrassment before throwing it in a drawer somewhere only to be seen when the child has grown into a proper person. The problem is I can't make arts and crafts, never have, never will be able to. The only thing I ever finished when I was at school was a clay candle snuffer that was meant to look like a choirboy, it was christmas. It was woeful. I was given a lump of clay rolled a small bit as a head stuck it on and painted the whole damn thing red. Then used a pencil to poke in a face that looked like the poor choir boy was being buggered by a priest. Dad gave up the pretence of liking it within ten minutes of bringing it home, Mum still has it and claims to like it. As I won't be able to help them make the crafts I'll just be there to try and stop them sticking their hands together.

I hope you are all well. What is going on with you? I get home on the 8th and hopefully I'll be able to catch up with you all soon.

love love love x

When I Come Around

2010-06-08T12:41:00.000-07:00

Hello there and how are we today?

Despite the year nearing its conclusion I have had a pretty constant headache for the last week. Forced to think seriously about what to do next is driving me slowly (but ever faster) mad. I said a few days ago, well outed actually, that I wasn't going to stay here. This decision caused much bafflement among the people who offered me the chance to stay. I thought nothing of it until I remembered how much I hate applying for jobs, especially tefl jobs. For a start I'm pretty sure around at least half of the schools I've emailed, don't actually exist. Most on the list are not schools but loose organsations which mean your freelance and they get to take a chunk of your money for no real reason. The two cities I'd really like to go to Barcelona or Madrid are proving the most difficult. Most sites are identical and appear to be run by amateurs.

If I see this laid back, young go getter one more time I'm going to lose all faith. Isn't his mother proud? Looks like he's from a leaflet about STDs. He is on most of them and is also the first result of google image search for male student. One even tried to put a testimony from him down! It doesn't breed confidence. It makes me want to curl into a ball and come home.

When not weeping things have been nice. On Friday Kathryn and myself decided to make the most of our classes not being on to go down to Logrono. Logrono is very small and very sleepy. It is where Spanish wine is grown and brags it is the capital of the La Rioja region. That is true but in terms of size its like being the capital of half of Cornwall. My camera broke so no pictures of it but it was very pretty and we did reach the River Ebro, which is more than the Spanish republic can say. Zing! Little civil war joke for you there.

On Saturday I was force fed Martini by a German which was neither nice, fun or sexy. I had never drunk it before and it tastes a little like my mothers gravy which might be why she's so happy at Sunday lunch time. It was at a party with about 10 different nationalities and I was the only one without a very very good grasp of Spanish. So when talking to me they had lower their conversation level which makes me you feel truly special.

The Martini was all in a vain attempt to make me go out. No avail Marcel! I was preparing for an epic journey of discovery and trial of the human spirit. Yes I went walking. I'm not sure if it counts as hiking but there was some minor scaling up a surface at one point so it wasn't just a stroll. We ended up pretty damn high as I think this proves.

Yeah thats right, the motorway. It took hours and was a really good way to spend an afternoon, not even being circled by some sort of bird of prey and an undignified climb over a barbed wire fence, leading barbs to be somewhere they had no right to be, could dampen the spirits. Salt was rubbed into the wounds after climbing the damn fence when there was a sty just a minute slightly further down. It almost got a bit like The Descent at that point.

The biggest joy was finding in a bar a homage to the Charlton Athletic 1947 FA cup winning side which proves you just what a massive club we are. No Man Utd memorabillia in Pamplona, oh no.

Hope you are all well.

love love love x

Death at a Funeral

2010-06-01T09:00:00.000-07:00

Ahoy hoy,

How are you all? Everything is winding down here. My kids classes are finished meaning I got to finish at four today. In your face people with real jobs. I have to confess to mentally having checked out a bit. No difference there then. My students are the same, they could at least try to hide their distaste of the fact there are three weeks left. My class of teenagers did save their best for last by bringing a turtle they had found to class. Of all the places on the planet these kids grubby little hands would be amoung the last you would want to a living creature to be in. Getting the poor bastard back to the lake was a difficult procedure based on one of the boys repeated attempts to try and get as much torture as he could into the walk. Fortunately the turtle is fine. Saying bye to the eight year olds was actually sadder than I thought. I'd thought I'd be delighted to see the back of them but I was sad to see them go.

Having more free time would allow me more time to be productive and expand my horizions but instead of that I used it to play hours of x-box. Namely a game called of Gears of War 2 which is even more violent than it sounds. It has a game mode entitled horde where there are 50 levels of enemies who get progressively stronger. What started as a casual look turned into interest which turned into single minded focus. There was a lot of shouting, cursing and at one point a chasm of despair. However on Sunday it was all over, all 50 levels done and hundreds of aliens scum dead. Lukash and myself finally having to look at the shells of men we are. Though at least now when students ask a question I'll focus on the grammar rather than level 37, images of which may forever haunt me.

It was my turn to compile the months pub quiz. Asking the questions is actually very stressful. I was really nervous. Would they like the questions? Is it to easy? Is it too hard? I did have a partner Toby who I wrote the damn thing with only for everyone to forget to tell her the venue had changed, opps. With the exception of a few simple points additions it went well. Here are some of the questions?

13 year old Jordan Romero has just become the youngest person to do what?

Who played the Good, the Bad and the Ugly?

Name the 3 UN member states that begin with the letter H?

Why is Spencer Percivel unique among British Prime Ministers?

The Henry Delauney trophy is awarded for winning which sporting competition?

Answers on a postcard. The top three teams were seperated by a point each, it was neck and neck stuff. By the end my voice was shot and I was drunk.

Before departing I'll post this, an article from the Guardian about Pamplona's Opus Dei university. It's only short.
www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/may/30/opus-dei

According to my students are more of them than you may think. They speak in the same consprital terms as talking about, whisper it, there may be Real Madrid fans in the city. I'm not sure which they would find more upsetting.

love love love x

An Undeserved Lift of the Bat

2010-05-24T13:42:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-20T10:39:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-17T11:37:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-02T15:44:00.000-07:00

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

The Year Before the Year 2000

2010-04-24T04:38:00.001-07:00

I had a very strange incident yesterday morning. In class I was chatting to a student about San Fermin who is the patron saint of Pamplona. That led us on to patron saints generally. He asked who the patron saint of England is. I told him St. George and he asked what we do to celebrate. I joked that no one in England even remembers that it's St Georges day or won't notice until half way through the afternoon. He asked me what day it was on I told him the 23rd of April. He looked at me like I had just slapped him in the face and pointed out that it it was the 23rd April. It was a more embarassing way to prove my point than I would have liked but it worked nonetheless. If any patriots are reading, don't cry about it, I defended England later against charges of being anti-Estonian.

The visit to the doctor, blood test results pending, was a success! Its an unusual experience carrying a test tube of piss in your inside pocket on a bus. The girl next to me had no idea! The fool! I find myself to be competitive with the doctor. I saw the eye test as a challenge, she laid it down, she said my eyes may not be upto scratch. Wrong! I had trouble remember how to say some of the lesser used letters and I still nailed it, jumping from the table punching the air and shouting "av it!" I was a little surprised though as I do spend 90 percent of my life looking at screens.

I made my first appearance on a karaoke stage for a good while. I blew the room away with a happy-go-lucky yet powerful rendition of "She Loves You". On Saturday I played some poker. I say some, I mean EIGHT HOURS of poker. With the exception of sleeping I have never done anything for eight hours. Four in the morning, falling asleep at the table, being shouted out by a drunk wide boy, it was quite an evening. We pushed through and I only came out 5 euros down which was better than expected. I had one massive win early, quadropling my pot but that was it, for the rest of the evening it just went down and down. As Emmet said "This is poker, you didn't come here for fun did you?" Like football, it's deadly serious. The week has been so busy, mainly due to my own laziness but I'm glad I made it to the end in one piece.

Just before I go, I need to get something off my chest.

FUCK YOU ICELAND.
FUCK YOU.

I have had enough of that floating rock. Alex and Andrew are supposed to be here right now, but Iceland and it's spewing volcanic mess has put pay to that. Magnus Magnesun was rubbish on Mastermind, Bjork can't sing and their frozen food is terrible. It's on Iceland.

I need to sit down and think long and hard about what I'm going to do next year, if anyone wants to make a decision for me get in touch.

love love love x

Piss and Vinegar

2010-04-16T09:06:00.000-07:00

This little plastic cup and tube have been occupying my mind of late. It turns out as part of my contract I have a routine medical exam which will include peeing into this cup. However, that is the problem. It is literally just a plastic cup with a very small plastic tube in it. Do you pee in the lidless cup or, with no ego here, the really very small tube? Mysteries abound. Who thought pissing in a cup could be difficult? I was expecting something a little more medical. It was also surprising to know the school keep a very large stock of them in the office. I'm going for the tube but it could prove to be difficult. After my last so called routine medical check up in a foreign country it's only going to end in tears.

This week has been really good but I don't know why. School replaced my cancelled classes with two hours of six year olds who speak literally no English other than a list of unrealted words: car, kitchen, pineapple, kitty. The class is also in Pamplona's huge priest training building which is huge, cold and I'm not joking literally every surface has a crucifix built in somehow. To give you an idea here is what the outside looks like

I was dreading it but it was a really nice class. We played bingo and did some cutting and even dabbled in some sticking. I was also presented with a daisy chain and a paper cut of what is either a fish or a bow tie, but either way it was a lovely thought. If my class of eight year olds is anything to go by children get attitude somewhere in the seventh year of their life.

My other classes have been good too. I have learnt a lot about electricity thanks to preparing a class for an engineer, its amazing. I blew my teenagers minds by demonstrating that if you mix the English flag with the Scottish flag you get a Union Jack. One of them also asked me where I'm from and after being told Kent proclaimed, "Where? C*nt?" No Mariana, it makes me a c*nt.

I didn't get to see the leaders debate as registered voters abroad aren't allowed to watch it. I sat on Facebook refreshing following what people were saying via status updates. It seemed quite exciting and above expectations. Who'd have thought it Nick Clegg? Have to say I'm pleased. If only my constituency wasn't already decided.

I have to go and spend some more time trying to unlock the secrets of the paper cup.

love love love x

Plastic Cup Politics

2010-04-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

Have you come down with a nasty case of election fever yet? If you have stop poking it, it will only make it worse. Who the devil will it be? I know I just can't wait. I've tried to wade through the murky waters of 76 pages of Labour Manifesto but I confess to giving up and reading the 'At a Glance' section on the Guardian. I'm now wondering whether three at a glance sections are enough to base my decision on but then I remember in my constituency I have already lost. MMM democracy.

I really enjoyed my week at home, it's got me looking forward to summer, let's make plans! We were treated to an inside look into Hannah's hair cut in a house that most definatly does not belong John despite his best attempts to steal it from under his younger sister's nose. I'm watching you John.

Since returning I have met another set of parents, always the bridesmaid, always the bridesmaid. Saturday was a big day. Started with a civilized lunch and got progessively less civilized. Excitingly we did venture to a new part of Pamplona for me, Ituramma, it was alright. Sunday returned to civility as Lukash and Felicity prepared a lovely picnic. It was like Famous Five but without the racism.

Monday was back to teaching which was much better than expected. My first class descended into a student demonstrating how a Navarrese man approached a women in a trendy night spot. It turns out I've been much more integrated than I thought as it matches my tactics perfectly. It involves standing next to the women in silence, looking at the floor. Easy now.

It got even better as my teenagers are at some sort of camp. I dread to think which kind of camp, some sort of survivalist jungle training camp. It was a surprise to go into the school and find it deserted. Raquel and myself couldn't believe our luck. When I left I was half expecting to find a gang of children hiding around the corner.

I'm off to try and sort out my life (school bag). Did not put this in the brochure. Anyway you need to get back to watching News 24, I wonder what Nick Clegg has to say about interest rates. You love it.

love love love x

Jesus Walks

2010-04-03T06:58:00.000-07:00

Happy Easter everybody! I hope you are swaddled with gooey, artery clogging chocolate, I know I am.

It's good to be back home. The journey was very easy. A four year old French girl took pity on me sitting by myself and befriended me. She showed me all of our school books and passport photos much to her mothers annoyance. She could speak French, English and Spanish, fancy dan, thinks she's so great.

I've been to the hospital and have been given a clean bill of health. Another occasion to be poked and prodded and even at point, rubbed. It was at my mums hospital, it was strange going through the ward and seeing mums name up on the board. It didn't take long and now I don't have to worry anymore.

Since then I've mainly been in pubs. I can confirm that everyone is alive and well, while still awaiting confirmation on a few I am confident that they too will be A-ok.

Talking of alive and well, Charlton's promotion chances, zing! Went to the home of football on Monday to see a routine 1-0 win over the biggest team in Carlisle, Carlisle United. It's going to be a very close end to the season and if it goes to the play offs you may witness me degenerate into a babbling, nervous wreck, completely incapable of thought beyond analysis of who would be tougher Swindon or Millwall.

Returning to Spain on Friday. I'm actually looking a little forward to the end now. Before leaving we changed tact with the DVD to show Labyrinth instead. The kids enjoyed it more than they were cool enough to admit. The best thing though was the joy and wonder on Raquel, Ana and Mauros faces. Their eyes wide, breath held and the excitement growing. Turns out Labyrinth didn't make it to Spain, Poland or Italy, my favourite bit was Ana proclaiming "he looks just like David Bowie". When I get back it's time to make some big decisions about the summer and beyond. Jeepers.

A short video of Easter in Bilbao before I depart. These processions are very common in Spain, different coloured hoods for different areas and groups. The hoods are to represent repentence and are a lot older than the Ku Klux Klan. Despite that they do look really sinister.

love love love x

Babs Uvula Who?

2010-03-30T12:52:00.000-07:00

Hello! Sorry (probably not the right word) for the lack of a post but I have been busy. It is exam time for the kids again. It seemed like only yesterday that I first got to see their happy faces drop into despair but its here again. They have all done well, including one 100%! The exams are good as you dont have to do anything in class but the marking and report writing that follows always makes up for it. I have used the same six stock phrases rotated to ensure they all have a different one from last time and that the kid who sits next to them doesn't have the same.

What free time there was this weekend was taken up by Alice, selfish. In fairness there has been a lot of watching a download bar like a spectator sport. We went out on Friday evening with Felicity and Lukash and it ended up being pretty heavy. On Saturday morning I was physically sick like a thirteen year old girl. It was a time of mourning though as the beautiful barmaid will no longer be working there. I don't think the owner knows quite the feelings he has unleashed. The weekend was more productive as with a great deal of help from Marc and Kathryn we headed out into Navarra. Shamefully in the time I have been here I hadn't ventured far into the countryside. The most obvious thing is that, there is a LOT of it. Navarra is really, really empty. It's most notable towns can't be too much bigger than New Ash Green. Very beautiful nonetheless.

We started in Javier, named after the Patron Saint of Navarra San Javier who was born there. He was cannonized for his missionary work in Asia, he is buried in Goa and Japan, it's probably not best to ask why seperate. He also encountered something called the miracle of the crawfish but my Spanish failed me. Onwards into Aragon, as in Catherine of, to a village called Sos, which was absolutely beautiful. It's one of those strange Spanish things that they come back to their home village and the population of these tiny villages swells during the summer to fall away to virtually nothing in the winter. A German friend in Pamplona came interested in these peoples sex lives, he was thinking somewhere between Hot Fuzz and Eyes Wide Shut.

It was lovely to have Alice here though I'm glad to not be sleeping on the floor anymore, I think one night I slept directly on my left kidney, if thats possible. Put some photos up in the next few days.

Its a three day week, I finish tomorrow and I can't wait to be honest. Be great to have a break. My heart has really not been in it this week, showing DVDs, that sort of thing. I remember watching the Disney Tarzan in German and it did me no good but these kids seem to be into it. When one lesson the DVD didn't work the look on their was like they had just realised their own mortality, but it was X-Men 2 so it was understandable. My half arsed week is best summed up by the fact I now need to go and work out just exactly what I'm teaching in a few hours time.

Home on Friday, I'll be in time for Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles. See you there.

love love love x

The French Open

2010-03-21T13:49:00.000-07:00

There is espionage afoot! If you were a spy you would think you would make an effort not to look so totally shady as the guy above but hey I'm not Bond. While rooting around the internet, something which usually leads to trouble, a blog was found about CLEN. Mysteriously posted in January by someone under the name "Black Pig" it is less than complimentary. A blog being used for evil, unthinkable. CLEN is far from perfect there are plenty of annoyances as there are with many if not all jobs but the person who wrote it is just unfair. They claim that Alfonso pretends to speak no English which is just wrong. They also complain about delayed pay something which hasn't happened once in my time here. Neither has their other complaint of not having the hours to fufill your contract. They also whinge about travelling, which is part of the job. My favourite was crying about the wind and that its cold in winter. I found myself getting defensive about it.

The question is who wrote it? I'm going to invoke the spirit of Jessica Fletcher to find out and then I'm going to go all Jack Bauer, for we no criticise, we make work for glorious leaders. I want to meet Black Pig, preferably under a clock tower, I'll be Red Fox and be carrying an empty brief case. That's far too much effort and I'll probably forget all about it in ten minutes but nonetheless intrigue.

We have our third new housemate! Her name is Gloria she's from Madrid. She's very nice. She's a bit older than the rest of us and everyone was worried whether she would enjoy living with three guys in their early twenties but she seems to be fine so far. She has been very polite in hiding her distaste with some of our ways, for example a fridge without a system, but I'm wearing trousers in the house so we are all making sacrifices.

It was Fathers day here on friday which is taken about as seriously as it is at home. BUT! In true Spanish style, you can't be expected to work so it was a lovely four day week. All of my young students have taken great pride in showing me their gifts they have been making in class. They do all involve pasta and glitter, but most important material of all is love, sob. Friday is my planning day so without it I have literally nothing organsied for tomorrow so we're going to be winging it. I used the day productively by going and getting horrifically drunk, which was the first time I had been so in ages. Pamplona subjected to the full force off my dance moves. Saturday also turned out to be heavy as we watched more rugby. I actually felt a bit bad when England lost, mostly as Antoine was sitting there being French all up in my face. He is less of a rugby than me and didn't care either way but still. The real highlight was Dan throwing sixty years of European cooperation back in their faces by listing all the reasons why losing to France would be unbearable to a French man. He didn't realise he was French until he noticed everyone around him laughing.

I've also been looking masters, my word they are expensive. I told myself to be brutally pragmatic no airy fairy courses just cold hard career courses. Though looking through the opitions I'm instantly drawn to Poltical Ethics or Imperial History. I'm not ruling out puppetry or dance thearapy.

It appears I will be home for Easter so if anyone is around let me know, I can bore you in person

love love love x

If its Tangy and Brown You're in Cider Town

2010-03-14T12:03:00.000-07:00

Cider, sweet, sickly and the favourite choice of skint drunks everywhere. The Basques however claim cider as an important part of their culture. Being cultured a a few of us decided to partake in some real culture by spending all Saturday drinking cider, imagine that on the South Bank Show, Melvyn Bragg would drink anyone of us under the table.

All over the Basque countryside there are places called, Sagardotegis or in Spanish the infinitely more pronouncable Sidreria. They tend to be on farms where the stuff is made, with an instrument with the greatest technical name ever, "a piece of wood with a nail in it".

To get out of Pamplona into the countryside a mini bus was hired which was very exciting, a mini bus really helps the feeling that you are off on a trip. We also got the share the bus with a guy who had been out all Friday and hadn't slept it was now 2 on Saturday and he was no where near finished. The countryside is beautiful and hopefully soon there will be some pictures. It's actually very British, but with mountains. When we headed into the mountains it changes to a more Alpine feel. There are lots of isolated white houses and high up there was still some snow. It looked the Sound of Music but without the Nazis.

The place itself is a small wooden building attacthed to a farm. The cider itself is kept in a huge barrel. You need to go up and turn on the tap but as amatuers we weren't expected it to come out at a force horizontially. You position yourself where you believe the cider will shoot out and have to catch it. Then you had to move the glass towards the barrel because apparently that makes a huge difference, only a cretin doesn't alter the distance. It's a process that gets more difficult after a few ciders.

You also have a meal which is virtually always steak. Our place was exactly the same, its rough being a Basque vegetarian. The meat is very rare its like biting into a cow but they smoke it so you don't have all the blood and it has the texture of being well done. It was fantastic and they keep bringing it and bringing it until you concede defeat (for thats what it is) or die from meat poisioning.

On the way back we stopped in a village the tenth of the size of New Ash Green but still had a bar that was rammed at six. Metal appears to be the Basques first choice of musical genre which explains the unacceptably high level of mullets. The night finsihed as all nights should with a running race around the block where I claimed a perfectly reasonable third place. As Any British sportsman will tell you, that will do boys, let's go home.

love love love x

It's Getting Boring By The Sea #1

2010-03-08T13:19:00.000-08:00

Spain it turns out really isn't one country, it is actually a number of small countries stuck together. What we think of as Spain, the bull fights, paella and flamenco dancing is actually mainly from only one part of Spain, its largest region, Andalucia in the south. The regions are all very very proud and generally people in Spain don't see much of a reason to leave their region for any real period of time. Travelling for a prolonged period isn't the big deal it is at home. Sometimes it's really inspiring that they take so much pride in their home and it makes different parts of the country truly different. Different food, traditions and attitudes. Sometimes its really annoying, when they treat something an hour down the road as foreign. I thought I'd try and paste together a brief discription of each, starting with Navarre, Catalonia and Galicia. So strap in for am exciting journey through Spanish regionalism. Generalization ahoy.

Navarra, my own little corner of Spain.

POPULATION: 620,337
FAMOUS FOR: Bull running mentalness, The Sun Also Rises
FAMOUS PEOPLE: Miguel Indurain (5 Times Tour de France Winner), Manuel Almunia

Navarra is small, rural and sparsely populated. It gets to be autonomous due to the fact that a mere few centuries ago it was an independent state, that actually joined Spain through mutual constent. I say mutual consent, they were at the end of the sword, but let's not quibble. Thus they are basically left to govern themselves and have their own president, Miguel Sanz. It's one of the strangest things about Spain, that to keep all the regions happy they devolve so much power that the Spanish government only controls about 40% of Spain's finances. Navarra leads Europe in renewable energy and is boldly attempting to be 100% renewable by the end of this year. It's not going to happen but theres nothing wrong with outlandish claims. Its people are regarded as being reserved, it takes a long time to become friends but when you do you have a friend for life.

Catalonia

A CAR ACCIDENT: Every 19 seconds
FAMOUS FOR: Arcitecture, Barcelona FC, Art
FAMOUS PEOPLE: Salvador Dali, Antoni Gaudi, Joan Miro

Catalonia and Madrid have been in eternal rivalry and will be forever due to their tendacy to automatically choose the opposite side in every debate on principle. The current example is bull figthing, Madrid declared it an art form to be defended as an iconic image of Spanish culture, swiftly Catalonia swore to destroy it and are in the process of banning it. They need each other, like Holmes and Moriarty, to destroy the other would be to destroy themselves. Catalonia also has its own language which can annoy other Spaniards so claim that in Barcelona events are advertised in Catalan and English but not Spanish, ouch. Barcelona is a city full of immigrants many who become so attatched they become honourary Catalans, Colombus, Picasso, Sam Bloomfield. Johan Cryuff the great footballer became so attacthed that he waged a war on the state to get his child's name spelt in Catalan, Jordi, rather than the Spanish, as Catalan was banned. How did Jordi pay his father back? By having his own football career that ended in Malta, it must be terrible to be so horribly horribly outshone by your father. I get the same feeling when I play my dad at Risk, "SIAM IS WEAK MARK!!" Catalans also have a reputation of being tight fisted and romantic, a strange combination.

Galicia

FAMOUS FOR: The Way of Saint James, emigrating,
FAMOUS PEOPLE: Franco, Amancio Ortega Gaona (founder of Zara, Spains richest man and 10th richest in the world)

Galicia (the bit above Portugal) is cold, windy and desolate. It is cut off from Spain by mountains and is closely related to the Celts. They have their own language Gallego, which is the first language over Spanish. It is poorer than a lot of Spain despite having its richest man, and is superisitous and are often the butt of jokes like the Irish in Britain. People say they never give a straight answer and never allow someone to know what they are thinking. Due to being poorer they are big emigrants. So much so that in Argentina and Uruguay Spanish people are called Galicians. There are more Galicians in Buenos Ares than Galicia. Descendents of Galician emgriants include Fidel Castro, Enrique Iglesias, the Sheens and most importantly Emilio "the mightest duck" Estevez.

There you are three complex regions reduced to nothing before your very eyes.

TODAYS POST WAS SPONSORED BY THE NUMBER 5 AND THE LETTER K

love love love x

Charm Offensive

2010-02-28T13:21:00.000-08:00

What an eventful few days. Costas has gone, he couldn't handle the CLEN heat and has removed himself from the kitchen. He decided on Sunday night, he spent Monday avoiding going to class and was gone at three this morning. Protocol be damned! Notice period to the wind! CLEN are lucky he didn't do the classic TEFL/love rat move, the "Bolt in the Night".

I had phone calls all day, getting angrier and angrier. They came to the conclusion that as I had been living with him for a few weeks I must share some mental link. Like twins, I sense when he was in pain. When my last class finished Alfonso was waiting for me. He drove me home and was hoping to find Costas in the flat so he could do something bad ass. I opened the door praying Costas wasn't in and thank God he wasn't. Though his bags were still in his room and like a big game hunter Alfonso knelt down and muttered about him still being in the city.

Due to his decision I've spent the last few days being treated with a degree of suspicion. They think I have had some part in helping him to decide or have been holding information back. It's like the great escape, I expect Celia to come up to me and say 'good luck' but I won't fall for it. It's a bit annoying that they think I forged him a passport and smuggled him over the open border in a hay cart. The jokes on them, I killed him. Should I be worried that I've driven away two flat mates, the second in record time?

Other than that, now the severe weather warning has passed, it has been mighty windy, the sun has come out! I'm so excited! My spirits raised instantly. I even went and sat on the balcony, your damn right we have a balcony, proper continentals. It does overlook a roundabout but that doesn't matter as when you sit down you stare straight at a concrete wall which acts as a barrier.

Due to the antibiotics I have also spent a lot of time not drinking. This is more of a problem when you have to spend time watching rugby. I have to say I am really enjoying it. I had a whole weekend with a clean head, I feel refreshed and whisper it was even a little productive. It is truly eye opening spending time with drunk people, everyone knows drunks talk shit but nonetheless so much of what is said is just repetition, pointless or terrible ideas to resolve the middle east problem.

I hope guys are all well

love love love x

Raging in the Plague Age

2010-02-24T12:13:00.000-08:00

I can finally be more specific about what I've been doing for the last week. I've not had the best of week as I've been to the doctors twice and today the hospital. I have tendonitis. I have had no idea what was the matter until todays little visit to the hospital. My poor tendons (the little things that attatch bones to each other) are INFLAMMED, meaning I ache like a bastard. It's like the ache you get from a long gym session but all day and without the smug satisfaction. The way they test for tendonitis is what makes the whole trip memorable. The doctor makes you lie down and then pokes you below your belly button but above the most sensitive of all male autonomy and tells you to try and sit up. I struggled and strained and honestly really fucking tried but despite him only exterting small pressure through one finger I couldn't sit up. It was actually pretty scary and I know its a medical test but its hard not to feel emasculated as you battle unsuccessfully with a man's index finger. I've been poked, pulled, elbowed and at one point even flicked, the man's a pro. He's given me some pills which I plan to make a huge effort of taking and making a huge meal of in front of the children, and hopefully I'll be right as rain in two weeks time.

This is how I discovered I wasn't registered as when I went to the doctor they found no record of a Mark Jonathan. They can't get their head around my name. In Spain you have both your fathers and mothers surname, they can't understand that Jonathan is my middle name and thus goes unsaid. The language was a bit of a problem but we made it through, though on their form at first it did say I was 11 which gave the doctor a shock when I came in.

Feel free to send cards, grapes etc and if anyone wants to sit by my bedside thats fine with me. Admittedly I won't be in bed, I'll be at work like normal but no harm in trying your luck.

love love love x

RE: The Fonz

2010-02-22T12:02:00.000-08:00

I have had a very frustrating week. It turns out the guy in charge of money at CLEN and my landlord are the Spanish version of Del Boy and Rodney. When I arrived I was led to believe I was a fully registered citizen of this fair city. I am not. This is because my landlord doesn't want to declare my existence as it would cost him some cash and the CLEN guy who has no problem with that. Which means despite paying tax that if the time comes I can't use the doctor etc. When I asked about it people jumped into action, so I have spent a lot of time in offices being passive aggressive and signing various bits of paper. It's not resolved as now I'm registered as living in someone elses flat. I should have known they were shady when Nick once mentioned he was thinking of buying the car and the money guy at work head snapped up, "I can get you a car".

The weekend was mainly spent falling in love with the beautiful barmaid who works around the corner. Four of us, two of which were women, sat at the bar trying to look nonchalant, with varying degrees of success. She told us a little of her life we couldnt help fall into awkward silence.

It was also Ana's birthday. She had people to her flat for dinner. As she is a vegetarian I have to confess to being wary as everyone knows few meals without meat are worth eating but I needn't have worried. Her French boyfriend made beautiful food and then we had a look at a collection of things he had whittled with his bare hands in a real demonstration of what a real man should be like. We also met her famous rabbit, making jokes about stew will be more difficult.

My horrible class has restarted after they had a weeks break to go skiing. Taking the kids skiing is a yearly tradition as Pamplona is so close to the Pyrennes, I do not envy the guy who had to take them. They were alright day one of them informing me he had spent the weekend drinking marijuana, my first reaction was to laugh but maybe I'm out of touch with the kids these days.

It's actually been a very eventful week but more details hopefully after Wednesday.

To make up for this lack of anything very good, I'll post this historic moment as the internet reaches perfection

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pm0upFdNVlA

love love love x

Joseph Merrick

2010-02-16T11:32:00.000-08:00

Hola, I'm sure I've found you eating pancakes and watching the Brits, come on now, you're not fooling anyone.

It's been a busy busy week. The biggest change is that after the Irish bass player who lived across the corridor has transformed into a Greek who plays more football manager than I do. Cormac's departure was trying. The week before he left his ferry set on fire so after rearranging he realised on the day of leaving he had no idea where his passport was. He never did find it but he has made it back to the emerald isle. Costas's journey was less stressful.

We spent 12 hours in bars on Saturday in what started as a quiet get to you drink in a local bar which can't make up its mind whether its Basque or Irish. It was a long but enjoyable day proving you can't beat the fruit machine and that if your job involves wearing an inflatable purple suit who really need to lighten up. Inexpliciably, the day also involved pina colada. I was half expecting Club Tropicana, where drinks remain at least moderately priced, to burst out as soon as you started drinking but it was not to be. I also managed to speak Spanish for HALF AN HOUR, beating my personal best by 29 mintues and 30 seconds. Costas has proved himself sober as well, thanks to him I finally know how the satelite box works. He can also Greek dance, I'm hoping to learn.

The main reason for being busy has been adult report writing which is wrist slittingly tedious. Highlighting the same categories over and over and then writing comments about lessons I forgot about months ago. My greatest hits of report writing slogans would include, "Don't be afraid to make a mistake" "Participates well" and "keep up the good work!". The real meaning of those comments is roughly, needs to speak more, doesn't shut up and I've got nothing. Mercifully they are finished, just in time to repeat the whole futile excerise for the kids in a few weeks.

CLEN has also divided into bitter camps as people who know nothing about rugby offer meaningless predictions and make outlandish claims that results prove a nation's superiorty. The Irish mobilized against the French, retribution was in store for the hand of Henry, they were humbled! The English have slammed the Welsh and poor Mauro may be in for a tough month. All this for a competition between six sides who are below the worlds best in a sport that ranks alongside archery and speed skating in terms and excitement and popularity, maybe I'm being unfair on archery, that shits hard. With the winter olympics I'm overdosing on rubbish sport, fortunately theres some football on tonight. Come on Lyon, watching Ronaldo lose is even better in Spain due to their insistence on calling him CR9 all the time, I wish I was joking.

I've just seen a run through of Spain's Eurovision potentials. They can be truly proud, I'm backing Ainhoa, she's got moves.

love love love x

The Owl

2010-02-08T13:24:00.000-08:00

This is what they tell Spanish teenagers in text books,

"Alysham is alright, but if you want excitement you have to head to Norwich"

Oh the disappointment x