I've found my home

the duck and parrot

My mum lives in the middle of nowhere. To be a little more precise, she lives near a Broad in Norfolk.

Mum: While I'm talking, I'm watching a duck on the roof of the house across the street.

This piece of information fascinates Maria. She is stunned that, quite regularly, ducks will waddle up the road from the Broad, and into my mum's garden. Real ducks! Real, alive ducks! Just wandering around the streets. She cannot believe that there are road signs, warning drivers that there might be ducks in the road. She finds it totally amazing that ducks exist in the wild.

Me: That's odd. While I'm talking, I'm watching a parrot sitting on the telephone pole across the street.

This piece of information fascinates my mother. She is stunned to hear that, quite regularly I can watch parrots fly overhead. Real parrots! Real, alive parrots! Just flying around, in the sky, without a care in the world. She cannot believe that everyone else hasn't stopped, in the street, to stare at the sight of a real live parrot on the telephone pole. She finds it totally amazing that parrots exist in the wild.

Actually, I'm with my mum on this one. I still stop and stare when I see parrots. Two days ago, during recess, I interrupted the kids while they were eating their lunch, to point out a humming bird. Yes! A real live humming bird. Just hovering around, moving in and out of the trees. And there was no David Attenborough sound track! Who would believe it? Well, to be honest, only me. The kids at school looked at the humming bird, looked at me, shook their heads in a (fairly) patronising way, and then carried on eating.

Mind you, they all stopped eating when I shouted: "Look! A duck!!"

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?

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!

the terrific tales of Action Will

This will be a "live" blogging event. To prove that I am all action today, I will update this post regularly, so that you can keep track of whether I am fulfilling my promise to end procrastination. Stay tuned (or keep hitting refresh) for the latest news:

6:15am - I wake up at this time every day. Although the alarm is not on, I still wake up at this time today. Today is my day of action. I roll over and go back to sleep.

8:05am - I get up. Check emails, check blogs. Open a coke. Have a cigarette. Go back to bed and wake Maria up. As this is a day of action I get out handcuffs, chains, wiffle bat, and run (run!) back to the fridge for the whipped cream and a stick of celery! (is this T.M.I.? It was the stick of celery that pushed this over the edge wasn't it? Hey, at least I didn't mention the radish! Oops, too late.)

8:57am - get up again. Check blogs. Leave comment on j.a.'s blog. Surf internet.

9:23am - go for shower.

9:34am - still going for a shower.

9:49am - am out of shower and dressed. Whilst in shower I got the joke in j.a.'s comment: In the list of things to procrastinate about, "get a haircut" is at least in the top 5. I will list the rest later. This is, of course, after I had started to, mentally, draw up my own list.

9:57am - run (run!) round house collecting keys, wallet, phone. We have to pick the kids up at ten and they live three minutes away! I will be on time.

10:02am - pick up kids and explain to them that we are having an action day.

10:23am - arrive at Starbucks. Order a power drink!! Full of vitamins, and minerals, and water gathered from the thighs of Cuban virgins (who have been left out overnight to let the dew settle on their thighs - I hope?). Sorry Vanessa, I did not bring the computer - this is family time! And, because I am being all action, I need to turn the time into quality rather than quantity.

11:17am - leave Starbucks. Go back into Starbucks to use the facilities - I don't know much about Cuban virgins but I think their thighs excrete some sort of diuretic??

11:23am - leave Starbucks with empty bladder.

11:31am - enter Blockbusters.

11:42am - start throwing DVDs at Nikos. I love the boy but, sometimes, he's like Maria in a shoe shop - the shoes in the other aisle are always more pretty than the pair in her hands, the ones on her feet, and the other two boxes she has in front of her.

11:45am - leave Blockbusters.

12:02pm - arrive at supermarket.

12:07pm - still wandering around aimlessly! This is supposed to be an action day! Hit upon idea of, instead of wandering around, thinking what we need, systematically go up and down every aisle, filling cart with one of everything!

12:27pm - bill for shopping comes to 987 pesos??? That can't be right!!!

12:29pm - get out of supermarket car park! Don't these people have anything better to do on a Saturday, other than go shopping? Don't they realise they are holding up a man of action????

12:38pm - unpack shopping. Realise that we forgot to get the things we went for. How the heck can you forget bacon??????

12:42pm - update blog (doing that now!!!)

12:52pm - hit publish and then will get out all my books and start writing my exams.

12:53pm - realise that I forgot to get a haircut. Kids are now watching DVDs and don't want to go out. I need to start my exams. Probably won't get haircut today.

1:36pm - will start to write exams soon. Just surfing at the moment - but it is action surfing.

1:55pm - have opened Word on the computer! Am a lot nearer to writing my exams.

2:33pm - opening Word was a bad plan. The computer froze. It might have had something to do with the fact that I was doing too many things with the computer - foolish me! Computer had to be re-set. It was my intention to open no more windows, just Word and work on my exams. However, Maria has just posted. So, I'll have to go read that first. But will get to my exams soon!!!

2:59pm - did you know that you could buy second hand books from Barnes and Noble? I got a gift voucher for my birthday and now, instead of buying two/three books, I can probably get a load more. Now, I need to sit down and write a list of books I want. Hang on, there is a funny smell in the flat??? Damn, it appears I was supposed to be watching the beans. I don't think they are burnt but Maria is a bit grumpy with me. I told her I was concentrating on the computer...true, it wasn't my exams, it was shopping! However, I'd better open Word and get on with the exams NOW!

3:20pm - have written half an exam. However, have been worrying about my failure to detect the boiling beans. Am now boiling eggs to make my egg salad. Will need to chop up an onion and fine cut some coriander (cilantro). This will take me away from the computer...but I am doing something! I am not avoiding writing exams. Honestly.

3:23pm - run out of gas. Can't boil eggs. Will need to hang about on the balcony waiting for the gasman to drive past. I know, I know. It might look as if I'm just sat on the balcony, reading, but I am doing something. I'm waiting for the gasman!

3:47pm - gasman has been. Have lit the boiler and set the eggs to boil (again). Need to chop some food and wash out the glass I am growing my avocado in.

4:04pm - finished sixth grade maths exam!! Decided I was procrastinating, didn't chop food, didn't wash avocado glass, wrote exam instead! I am a man of action!!!

4:46pm - transferred water from huge bottles into smaller bottles. Bit of a disaster with the eggs - might have forgotten they were boiling? There was still water left in the pan though, so they should be alright. Not that I've been avoiding the fifth grade maths exam but, up on acuerdate de acapulco there is a post in English. This is good news, as Maria is asleep in front of the tele - the kids are watching a film about a tooth mouse (no tooth fairy in Mexico, it's a mouse!) [and no IMDB link for El Raton de los Dientes either] - and so couldn't translate for me. The better news is that she's asleep and doesn't know I'm reading blogs, instead of writing exams!

5:36pm - have written the fifth grade exam. It is not a nice exam (sorry) it is full of questions about circles, which means π. The thing about teaching π, is that it is pronounced "pie" in England, which means loads of awful jokes for the maths teacher to make!

Apple Pie - do you get it? Genius, I'll be here all week. Unfortunately, π is pronounced "pea" in Mexico - and there are no jokes that I am doing about a word that sounds like "pee". Hard enough talking about a Wii!! Anyhoo, onward and upward! It is time for this man of action to make his egg salad!!

5:41 - three legged cat had a haircut today! She is a woman of action!! I feel like a failure. Maybe I should go lie down?

6:05 - just realised that I haven't eaten today! Am going to make the egg salad, open some ritz crackers, and dip away. Might also slice up some saussies and coat them in lemon and chili powder. While I am eating I will go watch some tele - probably an episode (or two) of Chuck. Also realised that I haven't said (on here) congratulations to Croila! Congratulations on your fantastic news!!

6:15pm - aaarrrggghhh. Didn't buy Lea and Perrins, didn't buy any dijon mustard. And now Maria feels ill :^( Not because we didn't buy the correct stuff - she just feels ill. I'll go sit with her for a bit.

8:15pm - still sitting with Maria. She is still feeling ill. I can't leave her. Much as I want to write the English exam, I have to think about her feelings. Plus, I'm in the middle of watching something. Gotta go!

10:28pm - time for bed. The kids have to go to bed, which means we have to retire to our bedroom. Not sure how successful this day has been - I've written two exams out of three but I didn't get a haircut. Good night.

there's something wrong about weekends

During the week my alarm goes off at 6:15am every morning. Actually, it goes off at 6:05am but I have the clock in the bedroom set ten minutes fast - hey, I deal with my anal-retentivity in my way. I hold Maria for a couple of songs and then wander out on to the balcony for a cigarette. I come back in to the flat, undress and climb back into bed with Maria. At this point my body wants to go back to sleep. At this point I want to spend the rest of my life holding Maria. At this point I start the biggest argument of the day. I have to get out of bed - I don't want to get out of bed. Eventually I peel myself out of bed and stagger to the shower. But, the only reason I do this is because I know that at the weekend I can stay in bed.

At the weekend the alarm doesn't go off. I wake up at 6:40ish. I roll over and go to sleep. I wake up at 7:40ish, try not to wake Maria up, sneak out of bed, go for a cigarette, come back to bed. But, can I go back to sleep? NO!

Every morning, during the week, I stand in the shower, and it is glorious. The water pounds down on me. I slowly turn the cold tap off, increasing the temperature. I shampoo, I shave, I wash and then I just stand there. Letting the water run down over my body. At this point I start the second biggest argument of the day. I have to get out of the shower - I don't want to get out of the shower. Eventually I turn off the taps, pull back the curtain and dry myself, before stepping out of the shower and facing the rest of the day. But, the only reason I do this is because I know that at the weekend I can stay in the shower.

At the weekend I get into the shower some time after nine. At this hour of the day everyone else is also up - I mean everyone else in TJ. This means that somewhere, in a city of nearly two million people, there are taps that are turned on, people are using water. The water pressure is low. True, water still comes out of the shower head strong enough that I don't have to glue myself to the wall, but it isn't the same. I stand around in the shower trying to get that feeling I have during the week. That desire to stay in the shower forever. It never comes. Do I stay in the shower any longer? NO!

There is a moment on Friday, as I climb into bed and turn the alarm off, that I hesitate. There is a moment on Saturday night, as I climb into bed, I wonder about turning the alarm on. What if I left the alarm on to ring on Saturday morning? What if I set the alarm to go off on a Sunday morning? I could get out of bed and then climb back into bed - have that wonderful moment when I win the argument, I CAN stay in bed forever. What if I go for a shower at 6:40am on a Sunday? A long, hot shower with the water raining down upon me? Should I turn the alarm on?

Of course I don't. The idea of weekends is that you lie around in bed until you want to get up. The idea is not to be woken up but to wake up naturally. But sometimes, just sometimes, I toy with the idea of getting up early at the weekends. That is so wrong!

so, I didn't expect that

I moan - yes I do! I moan about the cold. I know, it's not right to moan about the cold when it is 20 degrees C in the middle of February but I do. You see it isn't 20 degrees at night. Once the sun sets (damn quickly, no twilight here) the temperature drops - actually, the temperature plummets. And, I've said it before, but it is worth repeating, Mexico just isn't built for cold weather. The minute the temperature drops there is no escape from the cold, no relief. There is no stepping into a warm house that keeps out the cold, my flat is actually colder than it is outside. Last weekend we had the first BBQ of the year, a "carne asada". It was warm enough to sit outside, drink, eat and be merry. Oh how we chuckled about the English, sat at home, shivering when they went outside.

And then, mid-week, the temperature collapsed.

Wednesday was cold, very cold. By the time I got home from work I had back-ache. Why did I have back-ache? Because my core body temperature had dropped so far that I was hunched over. There was nothing to do except crawl into the shower and try to re-boot. Once I had thawed out enough, I climbed into bed (fully dressed, wearing a hat), pulled the sheets over me and tried to stay warm.

Thursday morning I woke up (as you do). Elsewhere you might have been told about my morning routine - the alarm goes off, we say "hello", I slid out of bed, pull on a hoody and thick trackie-bottoms, light the gas fire, wander outside for the first cigarette of the day, back inside for another kiss and cuddle, crawl out of bed for a shower. Thursday I awoke to Snow Patrol on the CD player, kissed Maria, told her how much I loved her, how great my life was, pulled on a Spider-Man hoody, thick trackie-bottoms, lit the fire, put on  my leather jacket, went outside onto the balcony, lit my first cigarette of the day, and looked at the new truck parked on the other side of the street.

Look carefully at the picture. Our truck is green. The roof of our truck is green! Except, in the picture it is white. Why is it white? FROST!! Yep, Wednesday night the temperature dropped below freezing and the car was frosted over. The windscreen was frozen. This is a phenomenon (ba-bah-da-badda) that Maria has never encountered before - a frozen windscreen. It was a phenomenon that I never expected to encounter again. There I was, for the first time in my life, sat in a car without a can of anti-freeze. Fortunately I had a credit card!

Priceless!!

email to my mum

Dear Mum,

I shall start with the usual apology for not getting round to sending you an email earlier, then will come up with some excuses and finish with a promise to write more often...which will lead to me starting my next email with an apology, then excuses, then a promise. Yes, I am this bad!

Sorry I haven't written earlier, I now realise that my last "contact" was on your birthday. Glad to hear that you had a good weekend/day of it and I am hoping that the earache didn't kick in until you were fully past celebrating (except for missing your special party-type-thing).

Life here has been very busy since I went back to work. The principal (head-mistress) is a bit psychotic about the school play. I think I told you that we were doing The Lion King in the city's main cultural centre - a big theatre that seats over 1000! Although the actual performance isn't until July 27th she wants the whole thing up and running NOW! I think my slightly laid-back attitude scares her. My feelings are that the kids don't have to know their lines by March - she wants them to have memorised the whole thing already. I am talking about "too much rehearsal will kill the energy and enthusiasm"  - she wants us to to do three hours of rehearsal this week, building to six hours by March. In the long run, I will get my way because, well because I am doing what I do. Of course, if it all goes wrong on the night I have told her she can be annoyed with me the day after the performance. For some reason, she thinks that will be too late! Tee hee!!!

On top of all this the sixth grade teacher has quit - or she might not have (I will try to explain but I'm not sure I totally understand everything myself). You may remember that she had left to have a baby at the beginning of November. They replaced her with a substitute teacher, for her maternity leave, who turned out to be a little less than useless. They sacked the substitute and I ended up teaching the English until Christmas. Well, she came back at the start of January and has lasted two weeks. As far as I can gather, she is missing her child and doesn't want to come into work - which is fairly expected. However, she is also having problems with her husband. He is an American who works out of their house, the joys of the internet. Unfortunately, the plan that he would stay home, look after the kid and work isn't as fool proof as they thought. So, a week ago she decided to leave her husband, move back to her parent's house (in Mexico city - a two hour plane ride away or a three day car journey) and quit her job. I was back teaching the English! Except her parents don't want her. They have offered to pay for her to rent a place in Tijuana so that she can continue with the job - are you still following this? But this means she has to find a nanny - which will cost - and she is worried that her husband will try to take the child away from her. So, she doesn't want to come into work. I am back teaching the English! The school is a bit confused as to whether she has actually quit or is coming back...every morning I am told that she will be in school that day, then (at 8) I am asked to go teach the sixth grade English because (surprise, surprise) she hasn't turned up. Me thinks that I am going to be stuck with the English full time, the school thinks I am just covering the odd lesson. Of course, if I WAS stuck with the English they would be paying me more but while I am just covering the school counts it as a favour. I'm hoping that they just sack her and I get paid for the work I am doing and will be doing for the rest of this academic year. Anyhoo, if that was too confusing, ignore it and just accept the fact that I am teaching English now (as well as maths).

All of that aside I am having a great 2008! We have decided that 2007 was not the best of years but this year is going to be brilliant. So far I have not come down with a cold, even though most of my colleagues and the school seem to be suffering. Also, my foot appears to have healed totally. It doesn't even ache the day before it rains - and, oddly for TJ, it has been raining on and off most of this week. We have decided to see everything that occurs as a positive, fun thing and try to avoid getting upset and worked up about anything. We find the humour in everything. All of this has been helped with Maria coming out of her depression. She suffers from depression and these bouts can last a long time. It is not debilitating but it means that she gets upset easily. At first it was difficult for me to understand what she was going through but we have talked, at great length, and come to the realisation that she is caught in a vicious circle. Some of her depression is caused because she feels a lot of guilt for dragging me to Mexico and then not providing the perfect life for me. Some days the washing up might not be done and she feels that she has failed me. This drives her to bed which means that the washing up might not get done the next day which exacerbates her depression. Through talking, I have pointed out that I didn't come to Mexico just to have the washing up done. I came to be with her and that is the important thing. I want her to be happy, not to be fed up because there might be some dirty plates in the sink. A lot of this has to do with her ex's expectations, not mine. We used the New Year to wipe the slate clean, start again in a relationship that we both wanted - i.e. one that doesn't mean the washing up has to be done every day! Round about the 10th of January Maria realised that the black cloud had lifted, she was really enjoying her life, the depression was over. 2008 is going to be great.

It's a good job that the depression had lifted because, although you don't want to talk about what is in the media, I am now going to talk about the biggest story in Tijuana at the moment. Now, this paragraph (and the next couple of paragraphs) might start to sound scary (however, Denham is going to love this story!) but, we are both safe, we are both well. TJ can sound like a very scary city but I actually feel safer here than I did in London. In London a lot of the violence is random - I have been in pubs where it has just suddenly kicked off, the bombings are totally random and, at night, I never felt particularly safe getting home. Here it is totally different. The violence seems a lot more extreme than in London but it only happens with a certain group of people. If you are involved in drugs (or anything illegal) then you are going to get into trouble with rival gangs, with the police. If you hang around in certain parts of the city after dark, then things will go wrong - but only in those parts of the city. The rest of the city is wonderful at night and very safe.

Recently the running of the city has changed hands. The previous mayor and city council were corrupt - the mayor ran all the gambling in the city, the police force was full of corrupt cops, kidnapping was at an all time high, drug running was (to the USA's annoyance) working successfully. In other words, the city was a hotbed of naughtiness. The mayor got a bit carried away with his success and last year decided to quit being mayor (and running a single city) and ran for governor of the whole state - his plan was to then run for president of the whole country. This was not a man who thought small! Unfortunately this was a man who didn't think that the laws totally applied to him - and, to be honest, they probably didn't in TJ. He nominated a guy to take over as mayor and set off to win the state. The bad news, for him, was that the rest of the state don't really like TJ and really don't like him. He lost the election - even though, on the day of the election, 100,000 ballot boxes were discovered in a warehouse, stuffed with votes for him and goodness knows how many were in the warehouse before it was raided - he still didn't get enough votes. At the moment he is in hiding, the authorities want a quiet word in his ear about election irregularities and problems that went on in the city while he was in charge. This is because the man he nominated to follow in his footsteps didn't get elected. The reason that happened is that a week before the election it turned out that this man was not actually eligible to stand for election - mainly due to the fact that he had been born in America and had spent the last five years living in America operating the US end of the drug smuggling cartel - he didn't even have an address in the city. Not the best way to get voted in as mayor. The new administration immediately disarmed all the police, called in the special forces and the army. The city exploded in violence.

Two months later, the police are back - armed. But these are the policemen who aren't corrupt - and to prove they aren't corrupt they have been seriously kicking criminal bottoms. Unfortunately this has led to a certain amount of deaths on both sides - the good news is that there have been more deaths on the sides of the baddies! And now I get to the point of this story - you might want to stop reading and let Denham just read this bit!

Last Tuesday was the funeral of six policemen who had been killed in the line of duty. The funeral was happening on the other side of the city to where we live. Thinking that the police would be distracted, six people were kidnapped and brought back to a "safe house". The kidnappers thought it was safe because (a) it was in a quiet residential area and (2) it was exactly, geographically, the furthest place away from the largest gathering of policemen (the funeral). Unfortunately (for them) the government had thought about the lack of police this side of the city and had flooded the area with special forces - these are the guys who roam the city, driving huge trucks, all wearing balaclavas (so they won't be recognised) and carrying enough armaments to start a small confrontation in a middle eastern country.

Cutting a long story short, a three hour gun battle ensued. Three hours of gun firing (and the odd mortar shell and grenade thrown). The street was littered with empty shell casings. The six kidnappees were executed, two of the kidnappers were killed, one policeman was killed. No civilians were injured. The fact that no civilians were injured is the amazing thing! This is because one civilian, on returning to her house, discovered that there were police blockades surrounding the area. Fortunately she knew the back roads, because she was desperate for the toilet, and managed to drive her car into the street where she lived. She didn't notice that the whole street was empty, in fact as she locked her car and ran inside (she was really desperate for the toilet) she didn't really notice all the people shouting at her. She got into the flat, went to the toilet and while there thought she heard gunfire. She stepped out onto the balcony to realise that the street wasn't as empty as she thought. There were policemen hiding behind walls, trees, anything they could find - pouring bullets into a building up the street. At that moment one of the policemen noticed her. She was told to go back inside, lie on the floor, keep out the way. As she went inside, she realised that the walls probably weren't thick enough to stop bullets (she also noticed that there is actually fire that comes out the end of a machine gun when it is firing 60 rounds a second). Worse, she realised that her car was probably in a lot of danger. Without stopping to think much more, she grabbed her car keys, ran out the door, got in the car, was verbally abused by several policemen and drove away to a coffee shop. When she got there she texted me to tell me that: she was safe, the car was safe, the flat had no bullet holes in it when she left. Gotta lurve Maria!

Apart from that, life has been quite quiet!

Tomorrow, on TV, at 8am there is a footy match - Heffield v Man. City. I am assuming that as Sheffield United are playing Manchester City at 4pm (your time) that I will get to see the mighty Blades playing!!

Right, I'll stop there. The last time I tried to send you a long email it wouldn't get through (so that's my excuse for stopping now). I hope your life is less exciting than ours and your earache gets better.

Love,
William

sometimes it's the little things in life

It amazes me, often, that I can totally ignore the fantastic things that happen in my life and end up concentrating on the shit things. I can get in the car, at the end of a working day, and rant for the whole journey home. I rant on and on about one event (or maybe two) until we finally get into the flat and I drop my backpack and take Maria in my arms. We kiss and then she apologises - apologises that I've had a shit day and apologises that it is her fault that it happened. It is her fault that I am miles from the place of my birth, working in a school that has caused my annoyance, doing this job.

It is at moments like this that the camera (that is permanently filming my life - isn't there one filming everyone's life?) pulls back in that jagged way. Not a smooth pull back, one that jumps from my face to the girl in my arms to the flat I live in to the city I live in to the country I am now in to the world on which I reside. Each time the camera freezes during its pull back a voice in my head starts to list off the reasons I should be happy - the girl in my arms, the life I lead, the lives others lead. I guess what I'm trying to say is (according to my mother): I should count my blessings.

In my previous life, on a previous blog, I had a tag-line: The glass ain't half full, it ain't half empty, I ordered a cheeseburger. In hindsight (and hindsight is always 20-20) I now know that I was saying that this wasn't the life I had ordered. I wasn't optimistic not pessimistic about the life I was leading because it wasn't the life I honestly wanted. Now I have the life I want. I have made the hard decisions, torn up one (two) families, moved to the other side of the planet. This is my life. No longer can I complain about the quality (or the quantity). It shouldn't be a conversation about "half full/half empty", this is what I ordered - it is perfect.

But there is something in human nature to complain. Maybe it is a stress release thing. Maybe the only way that I can appreciate the fantastic life I have is to make mountains out of molehills. Maybe the only way that I can appreciate the day I have had at school is to make the one bad moment bigger, so that when I sit and think back, I realise that there were so many better things. Perhaps the key word is perspective. 

[This might seem like a tangent, but bear with me] I am really happy that I have started smoking again. I know, I know, no-one is happy that I have started smoking again. But smoking works in my life. I'm not a stupid man, there are moments I like to think that I am quite clever. I have certain skills and abilities that make me stand out from others - true I have certain crapnesses and inabilities that make me stand out from others as well. One of those skills I have is the ability to problem solve, arrive at a logical conclusion. I can disseminate information quickly, follow routes and paths that extrapolate, come to end results. Some times this ability scares me - as people present information I can drive it to a conclusion and then tell them the outcome. They don't believe me and we end up in an argument. I have found that a cigarette helps me not getting beaten to a pulp. How? you ask. I have found that if you immediately tell someone something, and I mean instantly, they don't appreciate it, they don't think you have taken long enough to think it through. However, listen to someone, pause, light up a cigarette, inhale, exhale, then tell them your thoughts and they are more receptive.

Oddly this works not just with other people, it also works with me. No matter how pissed off with life I might think I am, step out on to the balcony, light up a cigarette, inhale, exhale and suddenly everything comes back into perspective. It's not yoga, it's not zen, it's not karma - it is smoking a cigarette.

Now, I realise that I should not be writing a blog posting telling people that smoking is a good thing - hell I have probably pissed off several of my readers (yes, I know that some of you are vehemently anti-smoking) but now I'm going to go off on a different track.

Recently I have been attempting to grow a lemon tree. I tried lemon seeds on a piece of cotton wool and that failed. However, thanks to a tip from Blue Witch, I then tried planting some seeds in a pot of soil. I put 10 lemon pips in a pot of soil and stuck the pot out on my balcony. At some point in the afternoon I go out on the balcony and smoke a cigarette. This gives me the time to: stop; think; reorganise my life; get some perspective. As I sit there I look at the pot of soil.

Every day there is something more to look at. Those 10 seeds (somehow, don't ask) have produced 14 shoots - I have 14 little lemon trees growing. Each day they are bigger, each day it is easier to count them. And each day I feel like I have accomplished something. I never understood the satisfaction that gardeners got from growing things - and, to tell the honest, I don't think I am advocating growing a garden. But what I am advocating is growing something. I suddenly have an immense sense of satisfaction, of achievement, just from sticking some seeds in a pot of soil. I want to plant a bean and grow a bean stalk. I want to grow sunflowers. Hell, I might even start growing cress - just because it grows. I don't want a garden, I don't want all the hard work. I don't want to spend hours doing this and that. What I want is to see results. Those results bring everything into perspective. How shit was today? Not bad enough if to kill my lemon trees!No matter what happened today those shoots have grown.

Obviously, there will come a time when their growth slows down and I can't notice it anymore. I might move on to something else or I might just light up another cigarette. But, for now, growing lemon trees has made me appreciate my life more. This I find strange - so I thought I'd share it with you.

Sometimes it is the little things in life that make a big difference.

who's the daddy?

We have had the kids with us for a whole week, I say a week but there have been moments when it has felt like a lifetime. This is not a criticism of the children because, well because they are children. It is more a criticism of human nature. No day is the same with Maria, each day has its uniqueness. One of the wonderful things I love about my new life is its total unpredictability. Often, as we drive up to school we will plan how the afternoon/evening will go - and it never does! Take today for example. We were not going to get dressed, we were going to spend the whole day wandering round the flat, having down-time with each other, proper quality time. I am now sat here typing a post after having being across the border, shopping in IKEA on a Sunday, returned home balancing two large boxes on the roof of the car, watched Maria build a bed. Not exactly what we had planned.

You very realise how your life has a pattern until that pattern gets broken. Oddly our pattern was unpredictability and the children suddenly added some sort of conformity to it, which sort of freaked us. There are obvious differences: you have to close the bathroom door when you  use the shower/toilet; you can't wander round the flat naked; nipping out to the pub at nine o'clock at night is out; having loud noisy sex swinging from the chandeliers is definitely a no-no. You know how it is when you have visitors that stay over? Suddenly the morning dance becomes totally destroyed. I'll assume that you (both of you) like me have your morning activities timed to perfection. We wake, we kiss, we cuddle, we talk, I turn on the computer, she showers, I shower, she does the dance of a thousand creams (don't ask), I get dressed, she checks the computer, I make my lunch, she dresses, we smoke and talk, we leave the house. All of it is timed so that we get maximum time with each other, maximum time in bed, get to work on time. Suddenly there are people in the bathroom brushing their teeth, there are people in front of the mirror applying mousse to their hair, their are kids that eat breakfast, there is homework that wasn't done the night before (although they promised it was all done). The whole thing becomes a mess. And then there is the end of the day - they need feeding, they need this/that/the other, the TV is on tuned to god-knows-what, the phone is being used and there is a huge-gigantic-mother-fucking-mess all over the flat!

But the single worst thing is - we are totally different parents. Our life together is perfect, we work well together. When she is down I am up and when I am down she is up. We make each other laugh, we both cry together. We like the same things. We learn from each other. Life is wonderful. But we have totally different ideas when it comes to parenting. I am fairly sure that if we ever had a child that was ours we would come to some agreement but, the fact is, we are never going to have children. So, we haven't ever bothered to learn each other's ideas.

I have two children who have grown up and left home - I had my rules and my ways, they worked for me. Maria has two children who are still children and she has her rules and her ways. And there are those moments when I do/say something and she looks aghast at me. There are those moments when she does/says something and I look at her aghast. Of course it is easy for me - I am not these children's father, I am just here. The lack of connection means that I drop into "teacher-mode" and so I become more tolerant, more I-don't-give-a-fuck because they aren't mine. I can avoid the hard decisions that parents have to make - I want these kids to love me, like me, and will do little to upset them. Unfortunately my laid-backed attitude means that there will come those moments when Maria and I clash.

Two mistakes! Nikos has already learnt to play one of us off against the other. (1) Maria had already told him that he was not allowed a frozen-juice. He knew that. I told him that if he ate all his meatloaf he could have a frozen-juice. (2) Maria had told Nikos that if he didn't eat all his food there was no TV. I told him that he only had to eat the six forkfuls that I carefully measured out, when he finished them I sent him off to watch television. Personally I have a personal history about eating food and it has decided my parenting skills. Maria is wonderful, she took the bullet each time, she wasn't nasty, she stood behind my decisions. I felt fairly crap but (as she always does) she picked me up and supported me.

Dani is a different matter. She is 12 years old, she is a girl and she is not stupid. She knows not to play the game because if she gets caught then the hammer falls (it has!). But, one of the things both of us agree about, is that she is old enough to talk to as a grown-up. There have been moments this week where Dani and I have sat and talked about Maria and I. There have been moments when Dani has sat and talked with Maria about me. She has spent time trying to find her place with us. It has been good.

And then we are sat on the balcony one night, Maria and I, smoking and talking. Nikos is watching "Lilo and Stitch" for the umpteenth time, so Dani comes out on the balcony to be with us. We talk, we laugh. We it has been damn hot the last week and it is pleasant to be able to sit outside, late at night, rather than sitting inside with a fan going full-blast in your face. We only have two chairs on the balcony, as the conversation progresses Dani moves along the balcony and sits on top of the washing machine. We continue to talk and then the washing machine moves into its spin cycle. Dani stays sat on the washing machine as it starts pick up speed:

Dani [to the world]: Oooooo, this tickles.

Will [to Maria]: She's sat on the washing machine.

Maria [to Will]: I know.

Dani [to the world]: Oooooo, this is fun.

Will [to Maria]: It's on spin cycle.

Maria [to Will]: I know!

Dani [to the world]: Oooooo, that was over too quickly.

Will [to Maria]: She's going to say that again at some point in her life.

Maria [to Will]: I know!

Dani: I enjoyed that.

Will [to Maria]: I'm going to go watch "Lilo and Stitch", you are on your own.

Maria [to Will]: I know!  [to the world] Will is a bastard!!!!!!!

I am not "the Daddy" there are just those moments when you have to leave a daughter and mother to be on their own.

a nation of gardeners

I hate gardening. As a child the garden was a chore. Mowing it took four hours, dead-heading the daffodils was another all day task, collecting buckets of stones was a punishment task that my father invented. As I toiled away the hours I promised myself that I would never have a garden when I grew up.

Of course, as is the way of many things you promise never to do as child (get a job, drive long distances that mean that you are never there yet, or kiss a girly [yuch!]), I ended up with a garden. However I hated it. Hated it with a passion. I could never find the joy in mowing, never liked weeding, never liked anything that involved a garden. Hated it.

For some obscure reason, a reason that escapes me totally, I have become interested in growing things. True, up until yesterday, it was only an avocado. However, after several discussions with Maria I have decided to launch my next adventure! I am going to try to grow a lemon tree. Of course, when I say lemon tree I actually mean (to my English readers) a lime tree.

Maria assures me that you can grow a lemon tree from a lemon seed. I totally and utterly believe her - why should she lie to me? So yesterday I cut three lemons in half, squeezed them out and rescued the seeds. I now have ten seeds sat on a cotton swab, in a saucer of water. These will grow and then I will plant the best looking three into a pot of soil. The intention is to grow three lemon trees that are braided around each other.

As usual you will be kept informed of my progress!