I've found my home

2007 - how was it for you?

And so it comes to pass, that moment when you review the year just past and look forward to the year ahead. 2007 - how was it for you? On the surface it was a terrible year for me. Mainly because of the last couple of months, which are at the forefront of me mind. It was the year that life caught up with me. I've always been fortunate in the fact that I look young and I can, therefore, act young. But 2007 was the year that my life caught up with me and suddenly I was old. I ended the year having to wear glasses to read, I played my last game of football, I took a day off work because I was ill. The breaking my foot was a whole "oh fuck" maybe I am not as young as I thought moment. Plus, although I am normally up with what the kids are getting down with, I realised that High School - The Musical was not my thing and I really, really don't get Hanna Montana. Damn, I'm old. Worse, 2007 will always be remembered as the year of the crash. This led to the worst night of my life, the night Maria spent in jail. Obviously this night was a lot worse for Maria but it is a night that still has repercussions several months later. It is an event that hangs over us and affects the way we think and live. Sometimes I think that the faster we get out of 2007 the better.

That said, for the sake of (both) my readers I will now present a list - one of those lists that tell you everything I thought was great (or not) about 2007. Everything I liked (or hated) about the year that has just passed.

Film:

I have got to see an inordinate amount of films this year, thanks to the fact that Maria has got over the fact that she lives with a man who works for Sony and therefore has become a lot more liberal in her belief in downloading films from the internet. True, most of these films have been classics. However, I am going to pick from films I have seen this year. Special mention has to go out to Little Miss Sunshine, which I saw at the beginning of the year. I loved the Bourne Ultimatum and Live Free Or Die Hard. Stardust gets a mention as best adaptation of a book I've read (whereas The Golden Compass gets a mention because it is the worst adaptation I have seen). 300 just rocked. Pan's Labyrinth was a film you you have to see (but just the once). However the film of the year goes to:

Michael Clayton

Well thought out, well executed and a film that kept me enthralled from the first moment to the last.

Turkey of the Year: Could have gone to The Golden Compass or Ratatouille but, for reasons that are totally and utterly mine - Spider-Man 3. I cannot even begin to tell you how much I hate this film.

Book:

I haven't read as many books as I would like to have this year. Some of it has to do with the fact that I lost my eyesight earlier in the year and some of it has to do with I started to read some awful books that made me pause...and not read as much as I should. I realise that most of the books that I have read aren't published this year but, what the heck, there are millions of books out there and I'm just catching up. Anything by Chuck Klosterman is an excellent read - mainly because it cause so much conversation between Maria and I. Fatty Batter took me back to my childhood and made me laugh out loud many times. I loved The Life of Pi and The Amazing Adventures of Kavelier and Clay. And The Dancer Upstairs really rocked. However my book of the year goes to:

Perfume by Patrick Suskind

I can nominate this book because I finished it in January. Don't see the film - read the book. This is not a visual story, this appeals to your understanding of the written word (and oh, how I wish that the makers of The Golden Compass had left the book alone). Mr. Suskind also wrote Mr. Summer's Story which is one of my all time favourites and if you can get a copy, read it!

Turkey of the year: Could have gone to the books I couldn't finish but instead goes to a book I did finish and wondered why I bothered: Hanging out with the Dream King: Interviews with Neil Gaiman. I really wanted to like this but....

Television:

Special mention should go to Heroes. This was a series that grabbed my attention in 2006 and I loved it through the early part of 2007. Unfortunately it dipped in quality at the beginning of the second series and really only got going, again, as the writer's strike kicked in. I have spent a lot of this year watching The Gilmore Girls from the start, Six Feet Under and The Sopranos. I have also watched the whole of Rome - which was brilliant. And, it is because of my love of Rome and the fact that they have cancelled the series (whether it is writer's strike induced or because I am the only one who loved it) that this year's nomination goes to:

Journeyman

Basically a Quantum Leap for the 21st Century. As there will never be more than the 13 episodes we have watched I can say, I miss it! It never got bad (which might happen to Life - our other favourite).

Turkey of the Year: House - this has moved from being a "medical" programme to being a "Hugh Laurie" vehicle. I'm not sure that this is a bad thing, just a difficult thing to grasp.

Sport:

The thing about sport is that it has so many highs and so many lows - and if it doesn't I really don't care. The lows reached their depths with Sheffield United losing the last game of the season and being demoted. This affected me a lot more than I expected, I ended up crying and missing my dad. England losing the World Cup Final, England losing at cricket, England losing at football - sometimes it isn't good to be English. But, sporting wise, the whole year has had a high with the mighty Santos Laguna only losing two games all season. The highlight of the year has to be:

Santos beating Team America 4-0

Team America are the Chelsea/Man Ure/Arsenal/New England Patriots of Mexican football. They always win - so to actually beat them was wonderful. To totally humiliate them by winning 4-0 (and it could have been 10-0) was just sensational.

Turkey of the year: Sean Bean and all those other Blades supporters who presented a petition at the House of Commons demanding Sheffield United's re-instatement to the Premier League. [please note: I am totally avoiding the fact that I have played my last game of football EVER]

Alcohol:

My basic staple has (and will probably remain) Dos Equis but I have occasionally wandered away. Special mention has to go to the Tijuana Brewery for their "blonde" beer which is very cheap and very cheerful. I had a fantastic margarita in Red Lobster and I do enjoy a pint of Fat Tire. But this year's winner is:

Casillero del Diablo

A Chilean cabernet sauvignon which is wonderful. However, wine in Mexico can be expensive (compared to the price of a good bottle of wine in England). But this is the year that Costco got themselves a job lot of Cassillero del Diablo and started selling it at 100 pesos a bottle. We now have a wine cellar! Instead of just buying a bottle when we feel like it, we actually have several bottles just laying on their side waiting for the moment we fancy one.

Turkey of the year: Bud Light. Is there anything more depressing than that moment when someone offers you a drink and then places a Bud Light in your hand? I don't think so.

Game:

As Santa didn't bring me a Wii or an XBox I am limited to games I might have played on the computer. There is only one. So, by default:

Desktop Tower Defender

Addictive beyond belief.

Food:

I still enjoy tacos - I adore tacos. They are still a novelty, each time I bite into one it is like the first time and they are wonderful. Carl's Jnr still serve the best burger and Dominos pizza still disappoints. There is nothing on earth to match the wonderfulness of buffalo wings served at The Fisherman's warf in San Clemente - oh, there is one thing:

Filete Balsamico

Mandolinos has become our favourite restaurant - the service is good, the waiters are friendly and when the place is packed [Feb 14th] and we turn up unexpectedly [Feb 14th], they still find a table for us. We haven't had a bad meal there - often we have been served with dishes that are not on the menu, they like to know our opinion. But my all time fave is the steak cooked in a balsamic sauce. It melts in the mouth.

Turkey of the year: Tamales. I try, I really try - but they are a Mexican dish that I just can't enjoy and, for some reason, most people find this as an insult to their country. Worse, this then inspires them to feel that I haven't had a proper tamale and so try to force another one on me.

Place:

This year we have visited Disney twice. Both times have been wonderful. I know that there is the chance to be cynical about Disneyland but the fact is, it is an escape. A break from the real world and all its problems. Also I get to share it Maria and it makes it so much better. Again we have visited San Clemente pier several times, and each time I have proposed to Maria and each time she has accepted. It is difficult to pick a favourite place because I go everywhere with Maria and she makes every place wonderful. But my favourite place has to be:

Bed

To fall asleep every night beside Maria, to wake up every morning beside Maria. This makes my life perfect.

Turkey: Jail. I never went, Maria did - neither of us want a night like that again.

2007

A year of some great highs and big lows. But, as I have typed this I realise that it has been a year with Maria, a year in love, a year being loved. No matter how bad the year has got I have still be happy, much happier than I have been before.

I hope that 2007 was a good year for you (both of you) and that 2008 is better. I will still be here, I hope you will still be there (but do note: you are always welcome to visit).

Peace and Love.

it's not a suggestion

My knowledge of the Highway Code (which might be a bit rusty 'cos it is nearly 30 years since I took my test but only ten since I taught my daughter) includes the fact that: when you approach a Stop sign you should apply the handbrake. I'm pretty sure that is what is says because I remember having to do it in my test. In reality, this is not something that you do when driving in England - but the main reason you don't do it is because there just aren't that many Stop signs in England. On of the (loveable) things about the English is their ability to queue and their apologetic nature. This works perfectly on the road with a Give Way sign. We are all happy to stop at a Give Way and let everyone else go.

Before I came to Mexico I had driven in the States and noticed a lack of Give Way signs. The Stop sign was a lot more prevalent. Also, the freaky thing about driving is turning right at traffic lights - you can go when the light is red. This was scary, every time I did it I expected to be arrested and locked up. The first time we drove in Mexico Maria said to me:
You know, the ALTO sign is more of a suggestion than an actual command.
She was wrong. One of the joys of driving in Mexico (and the joys are few and far between) is everyone's understanding of the ALTO sign and the dance that ensues as you arrive at it. There is an ALTO sign at every junction and, as you approach, you take careful note of who else is waiting at the other four junctions. Everyone knows exactly at what time they arrived and at what time they will cross the junction, heaven help you if you get it wrong. In my two years of driving here I can categorically state that ALTO is not a suggestion - true, no-one applies their handbrakes and many cars don't actually come to a complete standstill - it is the one road sign that everyone follows. The same cannot be said for traffic lights and roundabouts.

Roundabouts are a lottery. There are two types of driver on a roundabout. The first is the person who is using the roundabout to pick up speed. He (it is inevitably a he) will enter, at speed, use the centrifugal force to pick up speed and will exit wherever (and whenever) he fucking wants to - no matter what lane his car is at the time. The second type of person thinks that the roundabout is actually a four-way ALTO with a lumpy bit in the middle. She (because it is invariable a she) will therefore stop at random points on the roundabout to let other people get on and enjoy the ride. This makes driving round a roundabout a lottery. Will the person if front accelerate or brake suddenly? Who knows. But, as far as I can understand the rules, this is why god invented the horn. As you enter a roundabout, the best survival tactic is to hit your horn. This warns everyone that you are there. Also it gets the adrenaline running so that you are prepared for any eventuality.

Traffic lights are another lottery. In England the lights follow a set pattern: red, red and amber, green, amber, red. In Mexico they work a little differently: red, green, flashing green, flashing amber, red. In theory flashing green is there to inform you that the lights will change - in practice it means accelerate! Amber informs you that it is about to go red, which means accelerate. The appearance of the red light should mean stop but in actuality means accelerate!! The only reason that a car actually stops is because, at the other junction 90 degrees to you, the lights have gone green which means "pedal to the metal - floor that accelerator", and all the other cars are now crossing the junction. Of course, there are times when there are no cars, in which case the general trend seems to be - ignore the red and proceed, with caution, across the junction. If you make it across unscathed "yeah you", if you get hit it is your fault. Those are the rules for most of the year except, from the end of November throughout December and the beginning of January. In this select period of time traffic lights are a suggestion - and just the merest one at that. It is possible to sit at a red light, cars crossing in front of you and the person behind is livid. S/he (it can be either sex) will be banging the horn, mouthing swear words, gesturing frenetically. Basically they are asking the question - why the fuck are you stopped at a red light?? Move out the way mofo!!!!

So - now you know.

watchu doin'

Christmas Eve was spent with family and friends. We took the kids round to Efrain and Ileana's to welcome in Christmas with their family. I cooked roast beef, roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings to go with their pork joint. Much alcohol was consumed, many stories were told and great amounts of laughter was enjoyed by one and all. At 4am, as Efrain's eyes filled with tears (again) over the Christmas present we had given him we decided to leave.

Christmas day was spent at home, alone with each other. When we finally awoke we moved to the balcony to phone family and give each other Christmas presents. I received a (n exceptionally cool) messenger bag, so that I can carry my laptop about, and a leather wallet to carry my passport and FM3 in. The rest of the day was spent sipping Champagne, eating smoked salmon and watching films.

Boxing day (surreally) had a Boxing Day moment. In England, the day after Christmas is called Boxing Day because it was the day that the common folk would go up to the Manor House to receive their Christmas box - gifts from the lady and the lord of the manor. As we sat on the balcony, totally unexpectedly, the binmen decided to collect the rubbish! This was a clever plan because no-one was expecting them. Everyone had to dash out into the street with their rubbish and then confront the binmen who (politely) inquired after their Christmas present. We resisted the urge to second-gift (you know, pass on those presents that you've been given and you don't really want - one of the major drawbacks to teaching! In fact I'm fairly convinced that teachers are the major recipients of second-gifting - parents look at the crap they received last year, notice it is still wrapped and then pass it on to their child's teacher) and instead donated to the binmen's retirement fund. The rest of the day was spent wandering round the house, refusing to tidy up and then falling down in front of the tele to watch more films.

Wednesday I got up and stared at the wreckage that we like to call our flat. Neither of us wanted to actually do anything with the mess. Also, we felt like we had been cooped up for ages. Throwing a change of clothes into a backpack we jumped in the car and headed north - to Anaheim. Three hours later (including the hour+ it took to cross the border) we found ourselves in a motel foyer paying for the last available room. We dumped our bag, walked less than a mile, sat down in a bar, ordered a Fat Tire and took in the scenery - we were in Downtown Disney! Went saw The Golden Compass (quick review for those who haven't seen it - don't) and went back to our motel room to watch Confetti on the tele (quick review for those who haven't seen it - do).

Thursday we went to California Adventure. Five goes on California Screamin', four on the Maliboomer and several rides on our favourites. The day was wonderful - probably worth a whole post all on its own but just gets a mention here instead. Late in the evening we drove back.

Friday was spent avoiding the flat, organising the insurance claim for my foot and crossing the border to try pay off some of the credit card (which had a little exercise in Disney).

Saturday. The flat is now clean, we have clothes to wear, plates to eat off. Nikos is watching DVDs and Maria is sleeping in front of the tele. I hope you have all had a good Christmas and are ready for the New Year. Oh, and yeah, I've noticed that some of you just aren't clicking on my mini city, Casa de Adobe! Shame on you.

merry christmas you lot

[For those of you who read Vanessa you might recognise I've stolen this post - well, the title and the idea. If you are interested in how Peru celebrates Christmas read this.]

Every second billboard in Tijuana has the same message on it:

La Navidad es acerca de Jesus!

Christmas is about Jesus.

Historically, for Mexico, this is true - Christmas is all about Jesus. Christmas day is nothing, Christmas Eve is everything. Traditionally there are no presents - presents are for Tres Reys, the day the three Kings [wise men] visited Jesus. They brought presents so that is when you give presents. Maria tells stories of sitting around a nativity scene, on Christmas Eve, waiting for the addition of the baby Jesus. She also tells of grannies knitting clothes to put on the baby. But, historically/traditionally that is Christmas in Mexico.

Mexico is a a Catholic country, 90% of the population is Catholic, [confusingly] 8% of the population is Christian, the remaining 2% goes to all the other religions. Not all of this 90% are practising Catholics but this isn't like England, where people describe themselves as Christian and don't practice. If you are brought up Catholic, you are a Catholic. [This is, of course, true for England. I was brought up a Catholic. I don't practice, I don't believe but you can take the boy out of the Catholic church but you can't take the Catholic church out of the boy]. This being a Catholic is something that causes the dichotomy between the majority of the population and the Christians. The Christians are viewed as a weird group of people - seen as a totally different religion, more different than Judaism, Buddhism or any other world religion. Just the mention that someone is a Christian causes a shaking of heads.

There is a general feeling of happiness in Mexico at the moment. Obviously Mexico is a naturally happy country but at the moment the happy-o-meter has moved up several notches. Jesus is coming, it's Christmas. Suddenly I find myself in a country that [maybe subliminally] actually is full of the Christmas spirit.

Tonight (Christmas Eve) we will visit friends. We will take food. We will join our family with their family. And we will celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus in a family situation - people together celebrating. Tomorrow we should do nothing - well, at least carry on as normal - but I'm English and so we will celebrate Christmas in my own way. Smoked salmon, champagne, Christmas presents and Scrooge on the DVD player.  I will phone my mum, my sister and my brothers. I will not get to talk to my children because...well, because they don't talk to me. At some point (probably during Scrooge) I will miss my dad and cry.

However you celebrate Christmas (or even why you celebrate Christmas), take this opportunity to hug/kiss a loved one. Tell them you love them - you never know when you might not get to tell them again.

Oh, and have a good one! Have a great Christmas!

true story

Couldn't sleep last night.

Been taking Nyquil (Night Nurse) for the last week to combat my cold but it ran out the night before. We've got the kids, for the run up to Christmas, and as much as we love them, we went for an afternoon nap that lasted an hour an half. They then went to bed at 9:30 and so, with every other room in the house containing a sleeping child, we were forced into the bedroom. A lack of tiredness (due to sleeping earlier) and a lack of drugs meant that I couldn't sleep. Which meant that I was awake at 1:35am.

Bang! [pause] Bang!

Two gun shots and then a ten second pause - long enough to make me wonder if it wasn't gunshots, maybe a car backfiring.

Bang! [pause] Bang!

Definitely gun shots. Two (more) gun shots then nothing for ten seconds.

Bang! [pause] Bang!

Another two shots. This was not a gun battle, this is an execution. In my mind I can see someone moving from room to room, putting two bullets into each sleeping occupant. Twenty seconds later.

Bang! [pause] Bang!

Two more shots - eight in all. All slowly, considered, no returning fire. I lie in bed, not moving, hoping that Maria has slept through it all. The night explodes into the wail of sirens. I can distinguish the difference between the police and the ambulances. Maria speaks to me:

Did you hear the gun shots? High calibre, semi-automatic.

The sirens wail for another twenty minutes. You can hear the ambulances arrive and then leave. We lie in bed in silence. Wrapped up in our thoughts. As the noise outside dissipates she speaks again:

It's over. I'm glad we aren't the sort of people that are likely to get executed. Now, go to sleep. It's over.

Welcome to Tijuana, Mexico. Happy Christmas.

Couldn't sleep last night.

may the fork be with you

I was born and raised in the city of Sheffield - that's Sheffield, Yorkshire, England. There are always historical reasons why cities are founded - that's old cities not new towns - there had to be a reason why so many people chose to live in one area rather than another. In many cases cities were originally ports or market towns. Sheffield exists because of steel. Due to geological phenomena, the area around Sheffield provided coal that could be strip-mined (that means it was very near the surface and didn't need a lot of digging deeply) and iron ore. It was very easy to lay hands on coal, that could be used to gain a high temperature, thus heating the iron to a suitable temperature to make steel. Sheffield is "the steel city".

Like most cities Sheffield has a mayor, a city council, important people but for many years the most important person in Sheffield was a position that doesn't exist in any other town - The Master Cutler. Although Sheffield came into its own during the war years - when the steel was used for armaments and it was (fortunately) too far north for German bombers to  reach [it was actually only bombed three times] - Sheffield is/was known worldwide for its cutlery. As I grew up there was a sense of pride, visiting other towns, cities, countries, when I would sit at a table and look at the cutlery and see that stamped on it was the legend "Made in Sheffield". The football team I support (Sheffield United) has a nickname - The Blades - that is due to the incorporation of two swords into their emblem. I remember the hatred I felt when I discovered that Japan had renamed a city "Sheffield" because they could then stamp "Made in Sheffield" on their cutlery - whether this story is true or  apocryphal I don't know, the city existing that is, not my hatred. I love my city and take great pride in the fact that it is The Steel City and that there is a Master Cutler. Because of the circles my parents moved in, I was fortunate enough to meet several Master Cutlers. Because of the way I was brought up, the cutlery always had "Made in Sheffield" stamped upon it. As I child, on of my jobs was to lay the table and I would look at that stamp every time I put out knives, forks, spoons.

I had a very privileged upbringing. Part of that upbringing was I know "which knife to use". Often, when laying the table for Sunday lunch there would be three knives on the right, two forks on the left, a fork and spoon at the top. There were special fish knives (and forks) and there were special knives used for the different courses that were served. Most courses required two pieces of cutlery - it was a rare occasion that we were ever allowed to eat with a fork in our right hand. Part of my upbringing included how to eat food "properly", how to sit at a table properly, how to partake in a meal - a meal was an event not just an opportunity to refuel. Whilst eating, when food was in your mouth, your cutlery was placed in a certain way on your plate - you never held your cutlery in your hands all the time. And when you had finished there is a set way to place your cutlery, as a sign that, even if there was food left on your plate, that you had eaten enough.

All of this training has stood me in good stead. The way I eat, the way I present myself at a table, has never caused me any concern. I don't have to worry about which is a soup spoon and which is a dessert spoon. I can tell the difference between a butter knife and knife for your first course. I don't chew with my mouth open, I don't put my elbows on the table, I don't wave my knife about when I am talking and I can feel morally superior whenever I watch Americans eat - for goodness sake, the knife is always in the right hand!! [Which also leads to the fact that you should always escort a lady with your left hand - as eny fule nose, your right hand should be free to reach for your sword, you never know when you will have to defend your lady's honour!]

Welcome to Mexico! One of the most dramatic changes in my life has been eating out. In England I ate out rarely - whether this was a cultural thing or a personal thing, I'm not so sure. I think it is cultural. I am pretty sure that back in England breakfast is always eaten at home, we just don't work on the principle of eating out at breakfast. This leads me to pre-suppose that English people just don't eat out as often as Mexicans do. True. Mexicans sometimes remind me of hobbits - oooo, time for second breakfast/third breakfast...it's been two hours since I last ate, let's eat! - because they eat often. Rather than going home (because Mexicans work a longer day than English people) they eat out. Often at a stand in the street (my mother would never let me eat in the street) or a quick dive into an eatery [yesterday we went round a mall, over 50% of the shops were in fact restaurants]. Part of my learning curve has been how to eat out in Mexico. Many foods are eaten by hand (ok, tacos!) but if you eat in a restaurant that uses cutlery, you will be provided with a knife, fork and spoon.

What I like about eating in Mexico is that, for Mexicans, a meal is not just one course - you can't just order what you want, you also are expected to eat a "starter". This means that after you have perused the menu, made your choice, explained to the waiter what you want, you also have to choose between a salad or soup starter (oh, don't get me started on a Mexican definition of soup by the way). And, herein, lies the major difference. The set of cutlery in front of you is the only set of cutlery you are going to get. There seems to be a national shortage of cutlery! You eat your salad and heaven help you if you leave your knife and fork on your plate! The waiter will take the plate away, return with your main course and you are cutlery-less. Then try to get another knife and fork - damn near impossible! So, I have learned, once I have finished my  "amuse-bouche" to place my knife and fork to the side - ready for re-using!

We have a favourite restaurant. There are many reasons you have a fave restaurant. The first should be: the food is excellent. But, think about this, how many restaurants do you eat in where the food isn't that good? Sometimes you eat in a restaurant where the food ain't that good but it is comfortable - the restaurant, not the food. Well, Mandolinos is a wonderful place to eat. I can spend hours trying to tell you how nice, how wonderful, how totally at home Mexicans make me feel. At Mandolinos they are really welcoming, even more so than our favourite taco place - and this is a place where they apologise each time I eat there because they don't speak enough English and promise (every time) that they will learn more English so that they can make me feel more welcome. However, at Mandolinos not only are the waiters wonderful but also the chef comes out of the kitchen to talk to us. We have even been admonished for not coming regularly - they love us there. We turned up on Valentines Day, no reservation ('cos we are a bit crap at planning stuff) and they found us a table on their busiest night. They love us there. And the food - well the food is wonderful. Often we are presented with food that is not on the menu - the chef has heard we are in the restaurant and he likes to prepare something that we will enjoy. All in all, everything adds up to they love us, we love them - it is our favourite restaurant.

And now the point of this post [at last]. We watched Grilled last Wednesday - not a great film and one I wouldn't recommend to anyone. However, the film is about two meat salesmen who spend the whole film recommending steak. We went to bed hungry. Thursday we did our thing and, late Thursday evening, ended up at Mandolinos ordering steak. They do three wonderful steaks - one in a balsamic sauce, one in a cream/brandy sauce, one in a cheese sauce (which is a lot nicer than it sounds). I ordered the cream sauce steak (don Corleone), Maria the cheese one. We had a discussion with a waiter (and the chef) over one of the other items on the menu - they needed a translation for a shellfish they serve, it was a mussel. We ate our salads - we were offered a new option, not one on the menu, a spinach salad which Maria had. I had a Caesar salad - sometimes I can be a bit traditional! I placed my knife and fork at the side when I had finished. My knife was used to butter my bread, my fork to eat my salad. My plate was taken away.

And then the waiter took away my cutlery!

I was given fresh cutlery to eat my next course!!

A clean knife! A clean fork!!

It was a momentous occasion!!!!

Of course, to complete this story perfectly, the cutlery should have had "Made in Sheffield" stamped on it. It didn't. But sometimes life can't be totally perfect!

casa de adobe

All the cool kids are doing it, so I am too!

One of the great things about being a teacher is the holidays! Yay me!!! I don't have to work again this year! Hell, I don't have to go to work again until January 7th.

So, how am I intending to spend all this free time?

Will I be posting more regularly? I'll say yes now...and if it turns out to be a lie, I'll apologise later.

Will I be learning Spanish, you know, because my New Year Resolution 360 odd days ago was to learn Spanish? Nope, probably not - I'm a bit crap that way.

Will I be spending a lot more time laying around the house scratching my belly? You betcha! I will be lord of my domain and all that I survey (if Maria lets me)!

As part of this "if I ruled the world" scenario I have decided to build my own world. Yes, I will be master of a city. A city in Mexico. And, because I love you gentle reader (both of you) I am offering you the chance to be a part of this new world order, this brave new world, this social experiment (this bit of me laying around and scratching my belly).

I have built my own little city, Casa de Adobe and you can become a citizen of this city! All you have to do is click on the link Casa de Adobe and you become part of the population. But, here is the wonderful bit, you don't just have to be one person - why no, if you click once a day, every day, you can become many, many people - all living in Mexico!

So join me, come live in my city. Just click away, once a day and I soon will have a much bigger city than anyone else in Mexico!! (not that I'm competitive or anything!)

P.S. If you want you could always go live in Pogwood but I hear they don't have a decent Taco shop!

elvis has left the building

I'd love to try acting, acting in a film. I've done some acting, as a kid at school and then later in life. But I've never know how good I really am. Oh, people have congratulated me but really it is that thinly disguised congratulations: "You were really good in that thing." Which sort of means, yes, you were good but it was just a thing, not a thing! Just once I'd like to act opposite Christian Bale, be directed by Alan Parker - just the once, see if I was any good, if I can really do it. But it ain't going to happen so, for the time being, I am stuck with forcing myself upon unsuspecting audiences who tell me that I was better than so-and-so and they enjoyed my performance.

Last Friday I hit the stage as Elvis, introducing the school's "Rock and Roll Christmas". I was out of tune for the first song, I forgot the words for another, I didn't dance as much as I intended to do, and I didn't hang on to an Elvis impression for much longer than six words in any of the "talky" bits. On the whole it went rather well.

Before the event I was very nervous. It can be a bit scary, going out on a stage in front of 600+ people, 600+ Mexicans of whom over 75% don't speak English. It can also be very scary when (in my mind) I don't think I sing very well and the majority of my performance is singing! It didn't help that ten minutes before I hit the stage it was suddenly discovered that there was no microphone available for me either - the event was a "dance spectacular" and so the sound guy hadn't turned up expecting anyone to sing.

There was no podcast. There was no video taken and Maria (who got caught up in the whole event) forgot to take pictures. So there is no record of my performance. You'll just have to take it from me that it went rather well. Or at least, I think that it went rather well. I survived. No-one threw anything at me. People are still talking to me at school.

I don't think I'll ever do Elvis again though. It isn't me. As I stood there, singing "My Way" at the end there was a great temptation to break out into the Sid Vicious version. As far as this performer is concerned:

Elvis has left the building!

I forget

I've been here two years, not long enough for me to remember this, so I get to write the same blog post about the same moan! It is fucking cold!!!!

I know, I know, every summer I complain about the heat and everyone gets to write and tell me that I should have expected it. Every summer I lie in bed at night, the temperature dropping to a mere 30°, the fan barely moving the warm air around the room as I melt. And every Summer I forget what is going to happen in a couple of months. It is fucking cold!!!

Now, I realise that it isn't really cold - the temperature falls to 7°, which isn't really cold - but it is! It isn't cold if you have a house/flat that is prepared for the cold but we live in a flat that is prepared for the heat. The house is designed to let heat out. There are huge gaps in the windows, there are gaps around the doors, the whole flat is tiled - this flat is cool in the middle of Summer. But come Winter it is cold. There isn't anywhere in the flat that is warm and there are few ways of getting warm. We have a gas heater that attempts to heat the room that it sits in (heaven forbid it attempts to heat the whole flat) but most of that heat sneaks out the windows. The only way to get really warm is to stand under the shower and hope that eventually the heat gets through to the actual bone marrow - because that is how cold you get. Not just an "on the surface" cold, all the way down to your bone marrow. As I sit here typing my spine is radiating cold, all through my body. And there is no escape.

I get out of bed in the morning. Put on a vest/undershirt, a sweatshirt, a shirt, a cardigan, my jacket, a waterproof jacket, a scarf, a hat, a pair of gloves, underpants, trousers, two pairs of socks and I'm ready to lose body heat through the day. There isn't a room in the school that isn't open to the elements. From the minute I start work it is a running battle to keep whatever heat I managed to take from my bed with me. I just have to hope that I make it through the day - until I can come home and climb under several thermal blankets and hold Maria tight, trying to suck any heat out of her body.

Thank god for my illness! There are actual moments when I am sweating because I am too hot! These are the moments I relish! Except I know, I will never be this hot again, never be this warm. Until June/July. Come then, expect long posts about how hot it is!! But until then, know, it is fucking cold!!!

TCB

I have two elder siblings, my sister is ten years older than me and my brother seven. For long complicated reasons, not worth going into, I don't like the Beatles. It is easier to say that my siblings influenced my musical tastes and so that decision is theirs. The first single I ever owned was "Nelly the Elephant", the second, "You're the Devil in Disguise" by Elvis Presley. The first album I owned was the soundtrack to "The Jungle Book", the second, "Rock 'n' Roll" by Elvis Presley.

When I was eight we had a double garage, the fist side of it was for my mother's car which was parked under a wooden walk way, to allow access to the main part of the garage - my father's side where he kept his car, his "workshop" and where he would retreat to smoke during the period of time that he and my mum gave up smoking (he would smoke in the back of the garage and then explain the smell as "problems with the lawn-mower). When my mum didn't park her car in the garage we had a re-made stage. At the age of 8/9 my friends and I would put on impromptu performances on that stage to the gathered masses (six/seven friends). Each person would take turns to do a turn. I was dull enough to own a reel-to-reel tape recorder and would go through Python sketches that I had recorded off the tele or I would lip-synch to tapes I had made from Top Of The Pops. I would also do a mean Elvis impression. My sister loved Elvis and would drag me to the cinema to watch his films or force us to sit in front of the tele or would (while supposed to be baby sitting) plonk my younger brother and I in her bedroom and play us Elvis records. This was all pre-fat Elvis, pre-Vegas Elvis. I did a mean Elvis impression.

Fast forward 30+ years.

The school does two big events a year - the Christmas thing and the end-of-year thing. Last year it was a "Victorian Christmas". I got to be Scrooge and all the children got to be Victorians (with no mention of sticking them up chimneys!). This year the theme is "Rock 'n' Roll Christmas". Each year group has learnt a rock-n-roll type song and got a dance that goes with it - 'tis wonderful. Tomorrow, Friday, all the parents will turn up for an hour+ entertainment, to watch their children dance and sing. However, like all school events there is that "blank" moment between each act, that moment when the kids have to get off stage before the next bunch of kids appear. How will they fill those blank moments?

Hello, my name is Will and I am employed by the school for many reasons, the main reason appears not to be to teach Maths but to fill in the blank bits. Yes, tomorrow this humble blogger will be "Elvis Aaron Presley". Tomorrow night, at 5pm (out time - Pacific Time) I will be performing snatches of:

Blue Suede Shoes

Hound Dog

I'm All Shook Up

Don't Be Cruel

Jailhouse Rock

A Little Less Conversation

Heartbreak Hotel

You're The Devil In Disguise

Return To Sender

Suspicious Minds

Can't Help Falling in Love

Viva Las Vegas

My Way

I might need the help of a little alcohol to get me through the evening :^)

Elvis is IN the building!