I've found my home

just in case

One of Spike Milligan's last wishes was the epitaph on his headstone. He didn't get his wish exactly, it wasn't written in English, it was written in Gaelic:

Duirt me leat go raibh me breoite

Which translates as:

I told you I was ill

According to Fox 6 News (your station for balanced news), three weeks ago, there were reported cases of salmonella in San Diego.This was news that I ignored and treated with contempt at the time. The reason? Tomatoes! According to Fox 6 (balanced) News, the outbreak had been traced to tomatoes. Now I had one major difficulty with this (apart from the obvious statement that the newscasters can't pronounce the word tomato! It's tom-ah-toe not to-may-toe), I lived through BSE scares (mad cow to you) and Edwina Curry telling me that I could eat an egg...so long as I boiled it for six hours and then finished it off in a microwave. I know, know for a fact, that you can only get salmonella from eggs and chicken. Those fools at Fox 6 (balanced) News know nothing! They are just scaremongering. You cannot, categorically cannot get salmonella from a tom-ah-toe!

Fools!

Except...it appears you can. Bugger!How stupid do I feel? Well, normally, I would have said, not very stupid because obviously I haven't made a thing about this at all. I mean, I wouldn't have been at a Souplantation two weeks ago, talking in a very loud voice, demanding tom-ah-toes, criticising Americans for being frightened of fruit (it's a fruit donchu'no). No, if I was the sort of person who stood around the salad bar explaining I'm more worried about my prostrate [sic] (they're really good for your prostrate, I've heard, and at my age I have to think about things like that) than catching salmonella which is impossible to get from a TOM-AH-TOE!

Thank goodness I am not that sort of person!

However, if I was that sort of person, I'd certainly feel a bit stupid and start listening to Fox 6 (balanced) News a little bit more carefully.

The weather has turned, actually the weather turned a couple of months ago, it is hot. The thermometer doesn't drop below 28 and spends most of its time hanging around the 34 mark with quick bursts towards the 40 mark. It's hot. There are solutions to this, of course. Most of these solutions involve nekkidness, fans on full blast, swearing sweating profusely, swearing profusely, opening all the windows/doors, and drinking copious amounts of liquids. There is one major drawback to these activities - and it isn't visiting the toilet regularly because the sweating tends to deal with the excess liquids - mosquitoes. All the windows have screens but our doors don't. This means that, during the day, mosquitoes come into the house, find a place to hide and sleep during the heat of the day, come out late at night, find themselves trapped in the flat, decide to punish their prison wardens. Every morning Maria and I wake up to discover that our my bodies body are is covered in mosquito bites (it should be made known that the only time Maria gets bitten is when I am out of the flat. If a mosquito has a choice between biting Maria or me, they pick me). A quick check of my body, as I type this, reveals 27 bites! (Oh, for those of you who are worrying about the nekkidness, I would never post nekkid - I feel that I am talking directly to you as I write and I would never talk to you nekkid, so I post clothed. You can relax.)

And now, finally, I arrive at the point of this post! According to Fox 6 (balanced) News there are recorded incidents of West Nile Virus. Here in California! Well, there in California! But California is exactly five miles over there, as the mosquito flies! The West Nile Virus, again according to Fox 6 (balanced) News, is carried by mosquitoes! I have been bitten by mosquitoes!! I could have West Nile Virus!!!

No, listen, I watched Fox 6 (balanced) News and they told me that the symptoms include:

fever, headache, weakness and drowsiness

That's me, that is. I'm really hot, I've got a bit of a headache, I am struggling to open bottles of coke, and I keep falling asleep in front of the tele! I've got West Nile Virus! The worst thing is that Maria, who is normally very loving and very caring, is convinced that I am making this up. She tells me that I don't have a fever, that it is just hot. I have a headache because I keep refusing to eat, moaning that "it's too hot to eat". I can't open coke bottles because I keep coating my hands with sunblock, paranoid that I will burn and die in the heat. And I keep falling asleep in front of the television because I always fall asleep in front of the television. Maria is convinced that I don't have West Nile Virus. Of course, she never gets bitten, so I don't think she is taking this seriously! And look what happened when I didn't take Fox 6 (balanced) News's Salmonella scare! I was wrong!!

This might be my last ever post. I feel a bit weak. I feel a bit drowsy. While I've been sat here, at the computer, for the last five hours, I can feel a headache coming on. And I think I might have a fever, I'm definitely hot and sweaty. I have West Nile Virus. I'm going to lie down. Bye.

posts I didn't write

Tee hee! Hi, my name's Will and I'm a bad blogger. Actually, I'm a much better blogger than you'd realise - I have written posts in the last week [checks list and discovers three drafts that haven't been finished], however, it has been one of those weeks that I just haven't got round to finishing a thought, never mind a post. So, here is a list of posts that I didn't write during the last seven days.

W*dnesd*y: Kids will drive us apart (to paraphrase Ian Curtis)

Thanks to the kids being with us our morning routine is destroyed. I don't get the opportunity to go back to bed in the morning, for that moment when I hold her, kiss her. This makes the rest of the day seem incredibly long. When I get home, at night in the afternoon, there is no chance to be alone with her. It is only when we finally get to shut the bedroom door that we are alone. I miss her so much during the day.

Thursday: Insanity is hereditary - it is passed from child to parent [sic]

I honestly believe that my IQ is falling. I have now watched more television in the past four days than in the previous four months. What is worse is that I am enjoying it. I am emotionally involved with the contestants on So You Think You Can Dance? I really wanted Vicki(? I just remember it began with a V - so maybe I'm not that involved)) eliminated from Hell's Kitchen but understood, totally, why Gordon Ramsey got rid of Bobby. I can't believe the idiocy of the contestants on Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader? And The Moment of Truth is just car-crash television! You know you should look away, you know that you should move on, but somehow you are drawn totally to watching the disaster enfold in front of your eyes.

Friday: Look what I got in the post

I got a CD from Alan! I also got two books (the next episode of Lucifer and another Nick Hornby article collection). But, I got a CD from Alan!! Isn't getting parcels in the post the bestest!!! Especially ones that you didn't order yourself.

Saturday: I think I'm going to explode

You know how after eating a Chinese meal you are supposed to be hungry 30 minutes later? I over ate! I'm not saying that I was a big, fat, bloated organism, laying around the flat - but three environmentalists tried to drag me back into the sea, to release me back into the wild.

Sunday: I miss my dad, I miss being a dad

Thank goodness I didn't finish this post! This was one of those very dark, very depressing posts. Luckily the day was saved from total disaster when I received a card from Dani. Sometimes you can't see the good things in life until they smack you in the face.

Monday: seriously, they are that enthused?

The tickets for the Lion King went on sale, at school, Saturday morning at 8:30am. That explains the the seven parents who slept overnight outside the school gates. That also explains the sixty-five parents who were already queueing at 5:51am. Do you start to feel that I might be under a little pressure?

Tuesday: no sleep 'til brooklyn (I think I've used this title before)

The email I got from La Directore at 9:45pm was enough to ensure that I didn't fall asleep until 1am. The power cut at 2am meant that I spent the rest of the night not sleeping, scared that I would not hear my watch alarm, my mobile alarm, because there was no CD alarm to wake me up.

So, there you go. Seven posts that I didn't write. Aren't you glad you didn't have to wade through that stream of unconsciousness this past seven days? And that is without talking about "national stupid driving day" or "the exhibition of cows". Anyhoo, gotta go. The kids have left which means that I should be spending time with Maria, not sitting at the computer. Mind you, it's too hot to do anything - so I might just lie on the sofa and watch television. Can't remember if it's So You Think You can Dance? or Hell's Kitchen tonight. But you can bet I'll be there whichever one it is!

some choices are easy

Me: I've got about $50 dollars on me.

Her: We'll just look at the table. We won't get anything else. A book each from the table.

Me: There's a Chabon book here that I can get. But if you can't find anything, I'll put it back. We don't have to spend the money. Remember, we haven't eaten yet.

Her: Oh, I've got something. Actually, there are two books and I can't decide which one to get.

Me: Well, decide! We can't get four books! Just two.

Her: I'll get this. Come on, we'll go pay.

Me: You know, I was a bit disappointed. I'm sure that the last time we were in here "All the King's Men" and "Thank you for smoking were on the table.

Her: Maybe they are on the shelves, with stickers on them?

Me: Shall we look? The queue is right next to the section?

Her: Here's the Warren book. They've got it in three editions. Which one would you like?

Me: Well you said that, when they discussed it on the radio, the unedited version was awful. So put that one back.

Her: Which leaves the original cover or the one promoting the film?

Me: Get the original version. And here's the Buckley book.

Her: Can we afford them all?

Me: Hang on. Sixteen plus half of fourteen plus fifteen plus fourteen is fifty two. Plus there will be tax on top.

Her: Let me check. I've got $20.

Me: I've got $54 and change. Let's do it.

Her: Have we got everything we wanted?

Me: Yeah. Except, we talked about picking up another McEwan book if we saw one. We decided we didn't have enough of his stuff.

Her: Quick! I'll stay in the queue. Go grab a book.

Him: That'll be seventy two dollars and three cents.

Me: Are you hungry?

Her: Not really. We've got crap at home we could eat.

Me: We've got two dollars and seventy eight cents. Let's go to Mexico!!!

tell me why I don't like w*dnesd*ys

[I have just sat down at the keyboard, intending to write a post. My mind was settled on an idea, it was going to be a good post (honest). On the way to the computer I happened to pass Maria. I don't walk past Maria! I stopped and kissed her. We kissed. In the background Radio 4 (BBC) was playing. Radio 4 informed us, as we were kissing, that certain French kings were "well known because of their body odour". There are certain things that can kill a moment. There is nothing romantic about kissing your lover while a woman (with a BBC accent) informs you about the bathing habits of 17th Century people. I still want to write the post I sat down to do but my mind has moved to a joke:
A customs officer is inspecting a French woman's luggage. Inside he finds 7 sets of underwear. The French woman points out that she changes her underwear every day. Seven sets of underwear, seven days. The next person is an Italian woman. She only possesses five sets of underwear. When asked why she replies.: "One for each day of the week - and I wear no underwear at the weekend!" In the next suitcase, that he inspects, he finds only four sets of underwear. He enquires, of the English woman, why she only has four sets of underwear and is informed: "Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter!"
Sorry.]

In The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Arthur Dent, as the planet Earth is destroyed, comments: "It must be a Thursday. I've never got the hang of Thursdays." For me it's W*dnesd*ys. Long time readers (both of you) will know why the vowels in W*dn*sd*y are blanked off (it has to do with a certain football team in Sheffield). One person knows why the "e" was allowed back into the word. But, the truth is, "I have never got the hang of W*dnesd*ys", and it has nothing to do with football teams. I am going to assume that you all have a list, in your mind, of your favourite days of the week. This means that (think about it) you also have a list of the days of the week that are your least favourite. In my case I hate W*dnesd*ys. They just never go right for me. Mondays are just Mondays. Tuesdays and Thursdays are a bit crap but only because they aren't Fridays. Saturdays are my favourite day. Not too keen on Sundays because of the threat of the next day. And I still have to work on a Friday. But W*dnesd*ys suck!

And then there was today - W*dnesd*y - which was fucking brilliant!

On Tuesday we went across the border. According to my sexy new phone (turn green (s)wine) I walked over 15000 paces, 19km (there was a visit to IKEA involved). As I went to sleep, my feet were throbbing, I was tired. I slept really, really well.

I woke, well rested. I kissed Maria, I held Maria. I went out, on to the balcony, for the first cigarette of the morning. I hadn't checked my lemon seeds for over 24 hours. There were 5 (five!) shoots. Three more than the last time I checked them! I was so excited that I decided to check my avocado pit. As I picked it up, by one of the cocktail sticks stuck in it, it fell in half. I killed my avocado! It was then that I realised it was W*dnesd*y and it was probably all downhill from here on in.

Do you know that moment when you teach a killer lesson? Ok, so maybe only a couple of readers know that moment - but it is that moment when everything goes fantastically right. You want to bottle it. You want to know why it doesn't work like that every time. All your aims and objectives are surpassed, all the kids "get it", you throw in a couple of extra things. At the end of the lesson, when you fill in your notes, you just write: "Brilliant!". From that lesson I went to a rehearsal. The rehearsal (at least my parts) flowed perfectly. So perfectly that there was actual applause from kids, from colleagues. But that wasn't the best bit.

Kindergarten is a separate section to the school, I don't really come into contact with the children in Kindergarten that often. When I do I am normally being LOUD. At the sports day (Olympics), at the special assemblies, I am normally playing a role, being loud. There is a girl in Kindergarten who cries whenever she has to pass into the elementary part of the school. And the reason she cries? Me. She is frightened of me. Monday and Tuesday I have tried to "bond" with this child. Monday there was still floods of tears. Tuesday was a bit more settled. And then today. Today there was no tears. Today I actually talked to her and she talked to me - not a long, deep conversation, I said "Hello" she said "hello". But we talked without tears. And it meant everything to me!

I taught another lesson - and it was brilliant. Who'd have thought that a lesson on "double bar charts" could go so well? After the lesson I spent the rest of the day involved in politics. But they were politics that went well, without any problems.

At home, Maria had built the furniture bought at IKEA and it is great. It fits perfectly. It makes the house more of a home. She has worked on the house all day and it would be a shame to eat, to cause washing up, to do anything else that would mean tomorrow there would be something to clean up. So, we are off out. We'll eat. We'll come home. We'll flop in front of the tele and eat ice cream (did I mention I'd found some fantastic dairy-free ice cream?). We'll go to bed.

Has there ever been a better day? And it's a W*dnesd*y. How much better does life get?

it's great to be english

Incident One

Maria reads an email from Alan to me. She asks me what I had done to cause this consternation in Alan's life. I show her the email I had written Alan. She reads it.

Maria: So, let me get this straight. You wrote something thoughtless in your blog. Alan is worried that he has upset you. You then write to Alan apologising for upsetting him. He then writes to you apologising for making you feel that you have to apologise. You now want to write back apologising for making him feel like he should apologise for making you apologise? Of course, you know that this means that Alan would have to write a further email, apologising for making you apologise for making him apologise for making you apologise. Is that about it?

Me: Yeah. Sort of. Except, of course, if he writes apologising again, I'll have to write back apologising.

Maria: Run it past me again - how did the English manage to find time to build an Empire? I mean, once you invaded a country, didn't you just spend the whole time apologising for not wiping your feet when you stepped off the boats?

Incident Two

We park the car and head towards Vons (a supermarket). As usual there is a person stood outside the store with a clipboard. She approaches us.

Clipboard: Excuse me. Are you registered to vote?

Me: Yes. But not in this country.

Clipboard: Ooooo. Aren't you posh. What with your smoking and your English accent.

Incident Three

Maria is on the phone to her mother.

Mum: But how did you know? How could you know?

Maria: It's hard to explain. You have to know him.

Mum: Explain it. Try to explain it

Maria: He's too polite.

Mum: What do you mean: "He's too polite"?

Maria: It's just that, he's too polite. It is that simple.

Mum: You are telling me that the reason you knew he wasn't an internet axe muderer was because "he's too polite"?

Maria: That's it. It is as simple as that. He's too English to be an internet axe murderer. He's too polite. It would be too messy. It just wouldn't be "the done thing".

Incident Four

Maria: I told my mum that you were too polite to be an internet axe muderer.

Me: Uh-hmm.

Maria: I told her that it just wouldn't be the done thing.

Me: True. Too true. There is no way I'd be an axe murderer. An axe would be totally the wrong thing to use. Probably a hatchet. Yes, a hatchet. I mean, a machete would be too much for murdering with.

Maria: Exactly what I was telling my mum. There was no way you'd be an internet axe murderer. You're too English.

Me: Yep. I know which knife to use, which fork to use, and I sure as hell know what implement of death to use.

Maria: Yeah, that wasn't quite the angle I took with my mum. But, let's go with: "You're English"!

speed blogging VI

[deep breath] I haven't done one of these for over a year, but I just don't have time to write, I'm having a life, and I realise that I've posted recently, but stuff has happened, and I want to mention it before I forget, and (let's face it) the day that Alan is a more prolific blogger than you then you're doing something wrong, and I've got a couple of minutes, so I thought I'd throw out a couple of ideas, it's not much of a blog post, but, hey, it's something for you to read. [and relax]

Sunday

Got up early, we needed to cross the border because we were going to see the Indiana Jones film. Got straight across the border in under five minutes. Which meant that we were in the States at 8am with nothing open.  Went to Mission Valley and sat in Ruby's Diner. Ate a stack of pancakes and kept refilling a diet coke for a couple of hours, then hit the shops.

I don't know if it is because I am old, or because I hate spending money on me - but $150 dollars for a pair of trainers seemed a bit steep to me. No matter that they are sex on a stick, no matter that my knees are giving me a hard time, no matter that I look damn cool in them - they were $150!! However, I lost the argument, Maria got them for me, and I sat outside the shop and put them on! This was a good idea because by the end of the day I had (according to my funky new phone) walked 9.8km.

We went from shop to shop, moved to another mall (Chula Vista small world), and by 2pm I was weighed down with bags. I was the proud owner of (working up my body): a pair of trainers; three pairs of socks; two pairs of jeans; a pair of trousers; six pairs of underpants; two t-shirts; one shirt; and a hat. The hat is brilliant! Actually, everything is brilliant, but I really like my hat!! The only thing I didn't have was money in my wallet. We couldn't go to see the film!

Back across the border in time to see the mighty Santos play in the semi-finals. 0-0 at half time. The Monterrey goalkeeper was having an amazing game (bastard!). Ten minutes into the second half, Monterrey scored. Thirty minutes into the second half, they scored again. In theory it was all over. Maria was sat, head in pillow, crying. And then, with only five minutes left, the god-like Vuoso pulled a goal back. Could they score another in the last five minutes?....No! But the referee (who had an awful game) signalled an extra five minutes of play. Three minutes in and Arce (a player I loathed with a passion) smacks the ball in the back of the net! All over 2-2. And because we had a higher league position, the mighty Santos Laguna rolled on towards the final!! There was much singing and dancing in our house that night!

Monday

I really don't want to write about work. Suffice to say, it wasn't a great day. Don't get me wrong - students were fine, lessons went well. However, there are days that I would enjoy so much more if some of my colleagues either (a) didn't turn up for work or (2) tried thinking as a new hobby.

Maria picked me up from school. Back home to change (all new clothes and a great hat). Over the border in under three minutes. Ignored all the shops and went to the cinema to see Indiana Jones - at last. Great film and good fun. We tried to go shopping again - this time for trainers and jeans for Maria - but, somehow, that shopping magic had left us. We couldn't find anything that appealed. Ended up in the Outback restaurant (again), and, yes (s)wine, Bukowski was right, every five minutes the waiter asked how we were doing!

Tuesday

I really don't want to write about work. Suffice to say, it wasn't a great day. Don't get me wrong - students were fine, lessons went well. However, there are days that I would enjoy so much more if some of my colleagues either (a) didn't turn up for work or (2) tried thinking as a new hobby.

After Maria picked me up from work we went to Costco. Back home I got a bit snappy with Maria. I was tired. It had been a long (annoying/frustrating) day at work, it has been an action packed five (or so) days, and I was grumpy. I didn't realise I was grumpy, but I was grumpy. It was time for a power-nap! Forty minutes with my eyes shut and everything is alright with the world.

Out on the balcony I have new lemon trees seedlings appearing through my pot of soil. At the moment I can count three!! (which, considering I planted 12 pips, I can't work out is a good ratio or not - or maybe there are more to come). My avocado seed is splitting, so that looks like it is also growing - yay me!

And I suppose I should spend some time on the t'internet - reading blogs, posting comments, writing emails. Except, I was grumpy with Maria earlier, so I'll go and sit with her instead. Bye!

money burns holes in my pockets

It was a simple plan:

(1) go across border
(b) buy Lea and Perrins and dijon mustard
(III) see Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull

So simple that it couldn't go wrong. Except it did, round about point (b).

My mum always said that "money burns holes in my pockets" and, as mum's invariable are, she was correct. I've never been brilliant with money. Oh, I like to think that I'm a lot smarter than some people but I'm willing to admit that, if you lined up the population of the world in their ability with money, I'd just make the top half, just.

The theory is that you always send more than you earn, no matter how much you earn. This I have never done. I have always managed to stay in the black. But, in case you feel like tapping me up for a loan, I should point out that last month I was in the black by 40 pesos (just under $4, well under 2 British Pounds Sterling). The advantage of living in Mexico is that credit isn't readily available to me. What I earn is what I live on and I don't earn a tremendous amount. Of course, the other advantage of living in Mexico is that I don't need to earn a tremendous amount - the cost of living is a lot cheaper. Maria often says, the pound thinks it is a dollar. This statement is backed up by McDonalds. The 99c menu in the States is a 99p menu in England. In Mexico the peso doesn't think it is a dollar (it is nearer 10c) but it really does give it a go!

I am paid on the 15th and the 30th (31st) of each month. There are some days we make it to pay having eaten beans for two days, there are some pay days we arrive at with 1000 pesos still in the bank. Please note, I am not complaining. We live life exactly as we want to. We have both been married to people who are financially frugal. Both of us have suffered from living a life where we have had to argue for every penny we get. For me it was particularly irksome - however, it did mean that when I left England, I left everyone financial secure, mainly because all my money had been siphoned off into "rainy day accounts" that I had no access to. This means that neither of us like to exercise any kind of financial restraint on the other. And it is fairly good because neither of us wants to financially cripple the other one either. Every pay day there is a moment when we treat ourselves to something extra or we cover the cost of a repair. Basically, we live from pay check to pay check. Sometimes we sit around and talk of saving money but, somehow, we always end up in a bookstore/restaurant/IKEA and nothing comes of the talking. Money burns holes in my pockets.

As you know (and if you didn't - here's the reminder) I have taken on directing the acting in The Lion King, the school play. This I did willingly - and for willingly you can also read financially-unrewarded. I did ask for money (and felt rather embarrassed when I did) but was told that there wasn't any (and felt very relieved when informed). I did the job because, well because I enjoy it. I enjoy working with the children in a different way, I get job satisfaction (and yes, there are times, often 2am, when I have to chant that phrase to myself to remind me not to explode with stress). I also think that it helps with my relationship with the students, the school. There might not be any financial reward but there are certain other rewards that count for a lot more. On Tuesday I negotiated my contract. One of the weapons I intended to use was the fact I had directed the school play. As it turned out, I didn't need any weapons. In fact, the whole thing turned out so well that, much to my amazement, as part of the apology to (what they perceived as small - although it was more than I expected) my pay rise, I wasn't just given sincere thanks I was also given a financial thank you for what I had done with the play.

We suddenly had a lump of money. From nowhere. A chunk of money. What to do? What to do? What to do?

Obviously we decided to spend it!!

We decided to head over the border, Thursday night, and catch the opening of Indiana Jones, to celebrate, donchu'no. We took out money from the bank, changed pesos into dollars, laughed at how much we had exchanged - just to see a film -, crossed the border in under ten minutes (Maria took longer than me!), and set off...the money was already burning a hole.We didn't get to see the film.

We nipped into Target, for Lea&P, and foolishly we grabbed a trolley (cart). In a search for Lea&P we decided to go up and down every aisle. This was our second mistake. By the time we arrived at the condiments area the trolley was already full - I found cherry flavoured water, curry flavoured crisps, honey-roasted nuts at a reduced price, tins of Slim Jims - I went a bit mad. We went a bit mad. Both of us felt guilty. Both of us felt that we had overspent. And so, we came to the decision that it would be a good idea if the other spent some more of the money on themselves, to sort of compensate for the other's frivolity. It made sense to us at the time. Maria wanted me to go to Borders and try get a couple of TPBs. I wanted Maria to buy a pair of shoes. Both of us agreed that we would look - me at TPBs, her at shoes - but both of us were convinced we wouldn't find anything.

An hour and a half later we didn't have enough money to go to the cinema - it is a bit bad when you stand in line for the checkout, trying to work out the tax, in case you don't have enough money. (For those who have never shopped in the States, the price on the shelf isn't the price you pay - there is a sales tax added on at the till.)

But, never fear, we had the kids Friday night, we had a party to go to (children's) Saturday, there was no way we could spend more money before Sunday. And we didn't. Didn't spend any money on Friday - except for the visit to the supermarket and having to put petrol in the car. Apart from those expenses, we spent nothing.

The party Saturday would make sure that we spent nothing! Except we couldn't go to the party. It wasn't just a "turn up and party" party, it was actually a birthday/baptism/wedding party. Yeah, I know! Who decides to get married, and then include their kid's baptism, and their kid's birthday party, all in one? I mean, seriously, it meant that one of the guests at the wedding would have been me?? It makes no sense at all. However, the invitation was an RSVP, because the party was a "sit-down meal" type thing (it was a wedding!). Nikos's dad hadn't RSVPed. We couldn't go. We ended up at the book fair instead. We spent money. A lot of money. And I was more guilty than the other three! Yes, I bought a book in Spanish! A very expensive book. Toda Mafalda. It will help me learn Spanish!

Tomorrow is Sunday. We are going to try to see the Indiana Jones film. We will try but...but it is Memorial Day in the States. This seems to be a day for every shop to have a sale. And I need new trainers. We both need jeans. I need some underwear and socks. Maybe a couple of shirts. There are always new t-shirts to be had. There is this bookcase we have been looking at from IKEA.

Me thinks that if you come here on Monday, to read a review of Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, you might be out of luck. Money, it burns holes in my pockets.

look it up

I am full of boring/useless information. Some of it has to do with the fact that I am male and, therefore, seem to collate information, store it, and then regurgitate it (in an attempt to impress women/men/students/myself)*. However, most of my information has been gathered because of my mother. My mother is not the brightest button on the cardigan of the world. Actually, that isn't true. My mother is not the most knowledgeable person in the world, but she is very bright. A lot of it has to do with leaving school at the age of 14. This meant that whenever I would ask her a question, her reply would always be: Look it up. But this wasn't a throw-away comment, a pacifier for an annoying child. No, my mother would always follow the phrase, two hours later, with: What's the answer? I would have to answer my own question to her satisfaction. And, therein lies the rub. My mother's satisfaction was not necessarily my satisfaction. Quite often, she wanted an answer with more depth than I did. Thus, evenings would be spent with me, sent from the living room to the study, surrounded by reference books, dictionaries**, encyclopaedias, a pad of paper, and a pen. Before I went to bed, I would have to report to my mother my findings. I am 47 years old and I am full of boring/useless information.

Being the font of all knowledge has stood me in good stead in my career. I have discovered that children (the bastards) can be very inquisitive. The direction that you want the lesson to go in, is not necessarily the direction that children take you in. But, often, if you believe in "education as the creation of the free-thinking autonomous human being", you have to go in that direction. I am not a great believer in the phrase "because I told you so!" On my wall, in the classroom, I have a notice that reads: "Mr. Kay does not know everything, but yesterday he discovered:" Underneath this I write some piece of information that was inspired by a conversation in a lesson (or a direction that I want to take a conversation in). Often, this inspires students to discover more. More often it forces some fact into the students' faces that means they are learning something that makes them better people.

The t'internet has been a fantastic revelation to me (I'm old). For those of you (both of you) who read my previous blog, you may remember my total joy when I discovered Google Earth. That wonder still hasn't died (and if you have never used Google Earth, you must.  Google Earth is just the most gob-smacking thing out there. It is the reason to upgrade your computer. It is the reason to have an internet connection. Can you tell it rocks my world?). The t'internet is all those evenings in my parent's study, pouring over books - but, and here is the thing that you have to be my age to appreciate, it has all the answers. Yes, there is a lot of shit out there, too much donkey-porn, but, I can't explain the absolute joy I feel every time I open a google search, knowing that there is an answer out there, one click away. Damn, I love the t'internet!

I love Maria.

Maria is wonderful. One (if not the one) reason that I love Maria is that she loves me. And a lot of her love for me is based around the fact that she thinks I am wonderful. One of the reasons that she thinks I'm wonderful is that I normally have an answer for any question. She asks a question, I answer. Two minutes ago she asked me the meaning of "natty". I knew the answer without having to turn to Google. She loves me. She loves me because I have the answer to everything. I am her t'internet. Except I'm not. Mr Kay does not know everything... Recently I got a new mobile. The choosing of the phone was 75% Maria's, 25% mine. She knows what I want, she knows what is sexy. But, she didn't know exactly what I really wanted. What I wanted was not an MP3 player that also calls people. I wanted a phone that meant that when she asks me a question, and I don't know the answer, under the table I can Google the answer. Then she would adore me. I would have the answer to all her questions. My life is devoted to being her "number-one-go-to-guy", and if that means cheating - I'm the guy to do it!!!

There is a chain of restaurants called "Outback", it is themed as Australian. We love the place. They give you a malt loaf to chew on while you read the menu (although, if you ever eat in an Outback with Maria, heaven help you! The knife they give you to slice the loaf is sharp and it never leaves Maria's hand!). We have a "bloomin' onion". I have a "big-boy" Foster's. And then I have a big-fuck-off steak!

The last time we were there, we had one of those conversations. Maria asked me if I could remember the name of a singer, she's a country singer, she posed on the cover of Vanity Fair, she was being shaved by someone, she's a lesbian. I failed. But our waitress didn't!

Last night we went again (to celebrate my b'day). We had spent a certain amount of time searching for a Barnes & Noble (because a very nice person had presented me with a gift certificate) and failed miserably. The meal was wonderful, the discussion was fantastic, and as we left we asked the "seater" if she knew where there was a Barnes & Noble. She told us! Drew us a map. Wrote out directions. It was only as we were getting into the car that we realised that the "seater" and the waitress (from our last visit) were, one in the same person.

Maybe I shouldn't have worried about my mobile, about Google. Maybe we should just eat at the same restaurant all the time!

*actually, as dull as it sounds "trying to impress women", I have found that some women are impressed with the amount of information I have stored. I can carry on conversations, seem fairly intelligent, can express an opinion. Of course, the bestest thing is that, 'cos I know a little of everything, my opinion can be swayed. And there is nothing more impressive than a man who appears to be an intellect, and yet concedes the ground to a well thought out argument. Damn, let's hope Maria doesn't read this!

**as I was typing this post up, Maria was surfing the t'internet. Oh, no! She suddenly exclaimed. It appears that the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) is seriously considering never publishing a paper edition again! Wow, am I cutting edge or what? (I heard that person who said "or what"!)

and not a knotted hanky in sight

Monday morning I opened an email from my mum.

Lovely to hear your voice yesterday, especially as only Denham and I were  in the dining room at the time.  I stayed until 6.30 and then had to de-ice the windscreen, but managed to get home O.K. to awake this a.m. to about 6" of snow and it hasn't stopped since.  Great big flakes have made a wonderful landscape outside - a scene I haven't seen in years, and I can only be pleased that it is a bank holiday and I, for one, don't have to be out in it.  Thought you might like to know what you are missing!!

So we went to the beach! The sun was shining, it was a hot day but there was a cool breeze blowing. We got across the border in record time and drove to the Mission Beach area. There, we went to one of the parks (if you've ever seen Traffic it is the park where Catherine Zeta Jones is threatened). Rather comforting was the fact that there were a couple of policemen taking their lunch break under the shade of a tree - so we didn't have to worry about the kids being kidnapped!

At first Danny was all teenage-ry, refusing to join in as Nikos ran around the beach, digging holes in the sand, building sand castles, and throwing stones at the sea. He even had the energy to chase a group of coots (not sure if they are coots - they are what my dad called coots when we were on the Norfolk Broads but that would make them fresh water fowl?).

However, as the time stretched out, socks and shoes came off and Danny joined in with the fun. Trousers were rolled up and paddling was partaken of - (is that the way to say it? who knows?)

Anyhoo, a jolly good time was had by one and all. All pictures will biggerise if clicked on , if you are desperate, here's a short video of Danny and Nikos paddling in the sea on Easter Monday Download paddling.AVI !

half man, half biscuit

We went across the border yesterday. It was a friend's birthday and he wanted to eat at an-all-you-can-eat Japanese Buffet, before coming home and drinking the night away. We arranged to meet at the place (ToDai) at 5pm - although there was a certain amount of confusion over whether it would be 5pm Mexico time or 5pm PST. This confusion was added to over the fact that our friends have a tendency to arrive a little late and Maria has a tendency to arrive a little early.

Maria has a philosophy about time-keeping. She believes that you have no right to steal other people's time, time is important. So, when someone says, "be there at 5", she aims to be there at 4:50 - she's nice like that. As part of this philosophy of not being late she also factors in "getting lost" time. She works on the principal that at some stage she will get lost. I know this sounds like she's a bit ditzy but that's far from the truth. Before we go anywhere she hits up MapQuest, makes notes, draws maps and sits, in front of the computer, chanting the directions until she has memorized them. Maria rarely gets lost but she worries about it and, because she is polite, she factors "lost time" into her equations.

At 12 she announced that it was time to go. I pointed out that, really, it was a bit early. In theory the restaurant was less than 20 miles away, actual driving time would be under 30 minutes. I realised that the border needed to be crossed but, even if it took two hours to get across the border (ha, ha, ha), and we got lost for 30 minutes, there was no need to leave the house until 2pm. She raised an eyebrow at my "haphazard" idea of only needing three hours to get to the restaurant, but said nothing. She loves me.

We left the flat at 1:56pm and arrived at the restaurant at 4:48pm. And, in case you are wondering: no we didn't get lost; yes, we were at the restaurant before our friends; our friends weren't late because we thought they meant 5pm Mexican time, in which case they got there 4 minutes early; our friends were late because they meant 5pm PST, in which case they got there 56 minutes late.

So, if you are doing the maths, you are probably wandering how a 20 mile drive turned into two hour 48 minute journey. To further complicate your maths, all the time I was in the car we averaged a speed of 55mph. But there was a period of time I wasn't in the car - and therein lies the problem.

Maria has a Sentri pass. This means that she has been checked out by the FBI and deemed to be the sort of person who wouldn't want to work/stay in the USA nor is she the sort of person who would smuggle drugs/people. This means she gets to go through the border via the express lane (the Sentri lane). Unfortunately I don't have a Sentri pass, I have a Visa waiver. This means that I have to queue with the hoi polli and walk over the border.

Yesterday was Maundy Thursday. Mexico is a Catholic country. Yesterday was a public holiday in Mexico. Yesterday several thousand people decided to cross the border. Yesterday was a Thursday, so the number of border guards at the walk-in border crossing was the usual amount for a Thursday. Yesterday I spent 127 minutes in a queue at the border.

At one point this queue moved exactly no feet/inches/metres/cms in 27 minutes. I know because I was stood by a bin for 27 minutes. Fortunately it wasn't the smelly bin. That I only had to stand next to for ten minutes.

The sun shone

The line crawled slowly.

The sun shone.

I read my book.

The sun shone.

Occasionally I would shuffle forward.

The sun shone.

The right side of my face is still the usual colour. The left side of my face isn't. If only I was the sort of person who tanned, my face would be half man, half biscuit coloured. If only. At the moment it is half man, half lobster. Nice!