I've found my home

monopoly

When I was a kid, if I did something wrong, I was sent to my room.

This was a totally different punishment to "being grounded". When I was a kid, a long, long time ago, being sent to your room was a whole different ballgame to "being grounded". For starters I lived in the streets. When I was a child, paedophiles hadn't been invented. When I was a child: caring, loving parents would throw you out the door at 8am and not expect you back home until7pm. My mum would casually pack me sandwiches and a drink, tell me to be back by 7, then throw me out.

A day where I didn't collect 30+ miles, on my mile-o-meter that I had attached to my bike, would be considered a failure. There were dams to build in the woods. There were moors to be discovered. There were areas of Sheffield that were new to me. The only time my parents totally freaked was when I phoned (2p in a callbox) from Park Hill, casually mentioning that I was going to a fair.

Later in life, as a parent, once 24 hour news came about, I realised that you can never (never) let your children out the house, unless you drive them everywhere and tag them - else you will appear on the news as a bad parent. I also learned that sending your children to their room was not really a punishment. Children's rooms, these days, are full of computers, televisions, bloody everything - it isn't much of a punishment. But, back when I was a kid, my room was a punishment.

Except it wasn't. I had my books, my comics, my writing desk. I also had my brother. We had Lego (please note: in this blog the plural of Lego is Lego!), we had Action Men, we had Monopoly. Monopoly was our godsend. We would play games that lasted three days, we would play four games a day. There were weeks that I played 30/40 games of Monopoly (I was a naughty boy). I lived, breathed, devoured Monopoly. Later in life (sadly) I won a bet - could I name every single square on a Monopoly board? I was a god at Monopoly.

And then I played a game that included my dad.

We were on holiday, a caravan holiday, in the Lake District. It had rained for the first three days and it was raining on the fourth. Despite the rain we had still been on seven-hour forced marches during the day but at night, instead of playing football/cricket/rugby (we were a very active family, I now realise) we had been forced inside the carvan to play card games (by the age of eight I could card count - seriously, you wouldn't want to play whist with me). On day four my brother and I brought out the Monopoly board. My father said: No. We argued, we whined, we begged, we pleaded. He agreed, with one proviso, we would accept the outcome. He then proceeded to destroy the game of Monopoly for me and my brother. In under an hour he managed to suck any enjoyment of the game out of the game. He didn't dance, he didn't say: In your face, he didn't show any emotion. But, in under an hour, he totally and utterly dominated the game. We wanted to quit, he wouldn't let us. Another hour was spent being driven into bankruptcy and tears. I have never played Monopoly again.

It is now 35 years later.

I am old.

The children in my class have brought in a game of Monopoly. There is no money. There is no money because everyone playing is given a credit card. The credit card is placed into a calculator which adds/deducts money as they play the game. And there is something different about the board. There are no train stations - they are airports. The Water Board/Electric Company have become "Cell Phone" and "Internet" providers. But that isn't the worst thing.

To me.

The worst thing is that you get One Million for passing GO. One Million! One Million!! One Million for passing GO!!! Not two hundred pounds, one million somethings. I can accept that Old Kent Road isn't called Old Kent Road - what I have difficulty in accepting is that it doesn't cost forty pounds - it costs 6K.

When did I become so old? When did I become the man who rants at 12 year olds because they don't know what 6K means?  When did Monopoly become so, so, so...I don't know what?

When I was a child, many moons ago, my brother and I called the game Monotony. Now, the game is so hip-and-up-to-the-beat that I no longer recognise it.

I am old.

Still, it makes financial sense to buy the Oranges! Unless you are playing with my dad - that man could just tear you apart.

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!

twisted logic

Basic algebra teaches you:

If     A=B
and  A=C
then B=C

Maria: You've grown out of some of these clothes. We should hand them on to someone else.

Nikos: Can we hand them to Javier?

Maria: Yes, of course.

Nikos: Good! Because he gave me some clothes the other day.

Maria: Wait. Why did Javier give you some clothes?

Nikos: Because he'd grown out of them. So, it would be good to give him some of my clothes that I've grown out of. Wouldn't it?

Maria: ...............

Makes sense to Nikos.

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!!"

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.

normal service has been resumed

...which probably means nothing - as I am not totally convinced what goes for normal round these parts...

It's Sunday, 9:40am, the thermometer has already hit 30 and is threatening to rise even further. This, suggests to the kids, that we should be going to the beach. The good news for me is that Maria is still feeling under the weather. This is good news for me because (seriously) I don't like the beach, not at Playas. My idea of fun is not sitting around, on a beach, burning/melting. The beach in San Diego offers some shade, I can sit under a tree, but the kids don't have their passports. So the only choice is the beach here in Mexico - which means death to me. It doesn't matter that I use SF60, mentally I still freak if I am out for longer than 15 minutes. I will spend the whole time trying to keep my skin covered with clothing, finding a position to sit in, making sure that the sun hits only protected parts of my body. And then I will sweat. And, no matter how much clothing I wear, sand tends to "walk" up sleeves, up trouser legs, down through collars, and before you know it, I am covered in sand! Gah! I hate the beach!! Bah-humbug!!!

(Croila, you can ignore this paragraph - nothing of interest here for you) And there is football to watch today! The mighty Santos Laguna are into the play-offs for the title. It is the quarter finals, second round, and the mighty Santos go into the game with a 2-1 lead! Even betterer are the facts that (1) America never even made the play-offs and (b) Chivas (the red-hot favourites to win) went down 4-1 in the first leg, needing to score 4 goals in the second leg, which they did, except they conceded 4, losing 8-5, meaning they are out!!! (Pretty sure that the punctuation in that previous sentence was awful - so let's hope Nancy didn't read this paragraph either!) Anyhoo, the intention was to go round to friends (fellow mighty Santos supporters) and cheer the mighty Santos on to the semi-finals. Unfortunately, with Maria feeling a bit under the weather, this ain't gonna happen. But I will still be cheering on the mighty Santos! Oh, and while we are on the subject of footy, there was probably some happiness in chez Alan yesterday, congratulations.

An English exam will be writted [sic] today, not because it has to be (it is supposed to be done by Monday) but because it will be.

Oh, and this morning I got some (what I first thought of as) good news. However, the more I think about it, the worse the news gets. Fraggle Rock is one of those programs that hovers somewhere at the back of my mind. I am convinced that I loved it. I know that I still love The Muppets, so I am fairly convinced that I loved Fraggle Rock. So, for 15 seconds, after Maria told me that a Fraggle Rock philum was in production, I was really happy. And then I started to think (without taking a shower!) - maybe Fraggle Rock was good back then. Maybe I enjoyed it then, back in 1983, when I was still a student, with a one year old daughter. Maybe now...actually, the more I think about it - it is bad news. I get the feeling that it will be another good memory destroyed! Ah, well.

Right, onward and upward. I have forgotten to take the chicken out the freezer - I got distracted and ended up doing the washing up instead - and there are worlds to conquer, places to go, people to see, sofas to be laid on. Have a good Sunday, catch you on the flipside.

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.

it's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to

It is probably me - or is it? Maria asked me, this morning, to tell her a story about one of my birthday parties. Now, if you know one thing about me, you know that the chance to hold-the-floor and tell a story, isn't something that I miss. Except...except, I didn't have any stories. I don't remember any of the parties I had before I was 12, apart from the one on my 12th birthday (and the story connected with that has nothing to do with the party). My parents didn't believe in parties once you were a teenager, so there weren't any stories to tell during my teenage year - oh, except for the day my boarding school burnt down and I spent my 18th birthday getting drunk with several firemen and then discovering that I was the second coming of the big Jee. But that is a well known (to Maria) story. My father put in an appearance on my 21st birthday but there was no party. And there was a surprise party on my 30th - a story Maria also knew. And that was that. No other parties to talk about.

Maria talked about an event at her 22nd b'day party, which was sweet. However, when she was 22, I was 34, and it was that during that year that (with 20/20 hindsight I can see) the first domino fell,in a series of dominoes, culminating in the collapse of my marriage. And this is starting to sound maudlin, which was not my intention, however, it is probably me. I don't know if it is my Englishness or my upbringing but I feel embarrassed about my birthday. It's like I am celebrating a day that I had nothing to do with. But, I am three-fifths of the way to being Mexican...so, time to change the direction of this post, become more Mexican and celebrate!!!

I was born on May 15th in England. This presents a couple of problems in my new life in Mexico. The first is that, theoretically/mathematically/time-differencely, I was actually born on May 14th in Mexico. The second problem (for the school and students) is that there is no school  on May 15th - it being Teacher's Day. These two events, taken together, means that I get to celebrate my birthday over two days. Actually, to be more accurate, everyone else gets to celebrate my birthday over two days. You see, your birthday isn't so much about you celebrating, as it is about everyone else celebrating the fact that you are alive and in their lives.

The sixth grade - the sixth grade who have caused me so much heartache, so much trouble, so many sleepless nights - were wonderful. After being sung to, by the whole school, I taught the sixth grade for two hours. It was a good lesson, they were attentive, we got a huge amount of work done, one of those lessons that you wish you could bottle/save/pull out every day. Of course (with my amazing 20/20 hindsight), I should have realised that the game was afoot. As I struggled through a rehearsal, the sixth grade out their plans into action and at 11 o'clock, threw a surprise party for me.

My love of tacos is well known to my students, thus tacos appeared. I was allowed to take as many tacos as I wished. I took one. No, no, they insisted, take more. I took another. Please Mr. Kay take more!! I insisted that I wanted to share and was then informed that I could have as many as I liked...so long as I didn't take more than four! They had ordered 20 tacos, figuring that I would have four and there would be one each left over.

We have been discussing foods from different cultures in the English lesson. One student made a sushi cake for the party.

Every recess/lunchtime I always have a sandwich. Sofia's mum makes the best sandwiches in the world, so there were two piles of sandwiches.

Four buckets of KFC. A huge chocolate cake. Three tubs of Oreo ice-cream.

And the children were apologetic. They were really sorry that they hadn't been able to provide two things that they knew I liked: toast and coke. They had asked permission from the school if they could bring a toaster into school but permission was denied. Students are only allowed to bring fizzy pop (soda) into school for parties but are not allowed to bring in drinks that include caffeine.

However, the whole event was wonderful. And, what made it even better for me, the fantastic thing was that it taught me something about birthdays. Birthdays are actually a celebration that the person is alive, that he is in their lives. The sixth grade spent most of the party, checking that I was happy, checking that I was surprised, but, mostly, reaffirming that they liked me. They wanted to celebrate the fact that I had come into their lives.

Damn! I'm going to have to finish this post with the phrase: that I had made a difference.

I think I'm going to go cry a little bit, over there, in the corner. Hell, it's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to!

she doesn't learn

Maria picks me up from school, with the kids, in the truck. On the way back I go through my day, Maria goes through her day. The kids and I get out of the truck, in through the gate, as Maria locks up the truck. As we climb the stairs, Maria out of earshot, Dani turns to me and says:

At school we learnt about condoms. Do you want to hear all I learnt?

Please, let the ground open and swallow me now! Saturday was bad enough!

no-one gets out of here alive

We had a lesson this week, at school. It was about...how do you say?...sexuality?

We are at a kid's party, a seven year old's party. Nikos is with the other fifty children trying to kill each other on the bouncy castle. Maria, Dani, and I are sitting a table, in the shade, waiting for the piñata, waiting for the cake, waiting for the singing of "Happy Birthday", waiting until it is polite to go home. We've been there for four hours, just waiting. We've exhausted all our conversation, we've criticised everyone else at the party, we've eaten our fill of tacos, and the heat has drained all our energy. For the last five minutes (or so), we've been sat in silence. Maria, in an attempt to stop herself from falling asleep, has gone to the drinks table and is getting another coke, another sprite, another beer. Dani, realising that I am now sat "on my own" and being a well-mannered child, pauses, thinks, and starts up a conversation:

We had a lesson this week, at school. It was about...how do you say?...sexuality?

Dani is Maria's thirteen year old daughter. Because she is Maria's daughter she isn't a child - that sounds wrong. What I mean to say is that conversations with Dani are not childish. Oh sure, there are conversations about childish things but they tend to be conducted in an adult way. She is very intelligent, very mature. And then there are the grown-up conversations. This is something I am used to because it is the way I would talk to my own children. I am not frightened about discussing the big things and I am not frightened to talk about them in an adult way. No conversation is out of bounds. My feeling is, if a child asks the question, follows up with another question, is willing to sit through your answer, and come back with a question/statement, then the child is old enough to talk about it. I will discuss anything with Dani - except sex when we are on our own. Just for my/Maria's mental security, there is one thing that Dani and I shouldn't discuss when she is out of the room/away and that is sex.

Errmmm. Ok. Do you mean reproduction? Was it a science class?

This would be safer ground. This is science, this is biology, this is a conversation I can have. Also it buys me time. I check where Maria is and spot her searching through the ice box. I stare at the back of her head, beaming telepathic messages to her to get her ass back to the table NOW!

No. It was just a talk about sexuality. It was very embarrassing.

I need to buy more time. I need to get Maria back to the table before we cross into ground that I am really not comfortable in.

I remember when we did reproduction when I was at school. It was in a biology lesson. It was embarrassing. Actually, it was made double embarrassing for me. The teacher introduced the topic, told us that we were going to be studying reproduction for the next couple of months. And then, I suppose to break the ice, decided to get all the nervousness over and done with in one go. He told us we were going to study sexual reproduction, we were going to study SEX. Of course everyone started to giggle and no-one looked each other in the eye. And then he said, said out loud: "William, this is a serious subject, not something to giggle about." I suppose he was just trying to get over the embarrassment for the whole class. But he picked on me! Everyone turned and looked at me. I went bright red and everyone laughed AT me. It was awful. So awful that I remember it now, 35 years later!

Where the hell was Maria. That was my story. I have nothing else to say. I am stuck in my own kind of private hell here. Stop looking for ice and get back to the table. NOOOOOOOO! Someone has stopped her, to talk to her. She has to get back to the table NOW!

It wasn't a lesson. It was just a long talk about sex and sexuality.

Uh-huh.

If I sound non-committal she might get bored with the conversation. She might stop talking about this. This cannot go anywhere but bad.

At the end of the talk we were asked to write questions on a piece of paper. Fold the piece of paper up and put them in a box. Then the teacher picked the questions out of the box. One at a time. And answered them.

I have got to stop this!

Ok. Look. I'm sure that there was some very interesting questions but, seriously, I don't want to know.

Yeah, I know. There were some really embarrassing questions. I would never tell you what people said.

Thank you god. Thank you jesus. Thank you lord.

Except for this one question. It was really embarrassing.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Maria, Maria, where the fuck are you. Get here now. I don't want to deal with this. GET HERE NOW!

Look. Seriously LOOK! You don't have to tell me the question. I don't want to hear it. I am going to put my fingers in my ears and go nanananana. Just wait, just wait until your mum comes back to the table. Then you can tell her. I'll leave. Talk to your mum about it.

The question was...

Did I say this girl was intelligent? How did I think she was intelligent? Can't she hear what I'm saying! Oh god she's going to tell me the question, she's going to tell me the question, SHE'S GOING TO TELL ME THE QUESTION! I watched her load the gun, point it at my head, pull back the trigger. I watched the bullet coming out of the gun. I could see it still spinning, I could see the slight smoke from the explosion as the hammer set of the gunpowder.

How do you mend a broken heart when a boy breaks up with you?

I felt the air move beside me as the bullet passed by. And Maria is stood beside me. She places a beer in front of me and asks if I'm alright, I look a bit pale.

I'm cool. Just dodged a bullet.