Vital Organs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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