I've found my home

glass half full - glass half empty

I've always lied about my age. When asked how old I am, I invariably make a number and lie. However, I never choose a number that is smaller than my real age -  when I lie I always pick a number 10/20 years older than I actually am. The reason I do this is because I end up in an argument if I tell the truth.

How old are you?
47.
You're not!
Yes I am! I'm 47.
You're lying!
No, really. I am 47.
You big fat liar! [I hang around with very mature people]*
and so on and so forth...

As opposed to:

How old are you?
58.
You're not!!
No, I'm not. I'm 47.
Oh, ok.

So, it easier to lie and get on with my life, than to tell the truth and end up having to produce my driving licence/birth certificate/mum. Some of this is because (I like to think that) I think young. At some point I stopped growing up. I spend my days with children (as part of my job), I talk to them, I have to try think like them, I work with them, and (in the end) I befriend them. I think young. Also I think I am young. In my mind [in my mind!] I'm still about 18. Yes, I know, I've gone through a marriage, raising two children, a mortgage - but I ran away from that (actually, to be honest, I didn't run away from that, I ran towards Maria). I'm living the life I want, doing the things I want, and (more importantly) being with the person I want to be with. Could be viewed as the actions of an irresponsible child?? However, the kicker has always been, I look young. This has become more relevant since moving to Mexico. Years of hiding from the sun Years of the sun hiding from me, means that (compared to many other fair skinned, blond haired people, living in California) I look quite young for my age! Added to this, I feel young. I am fortunate that I haven't really felt old, physically.

In the last two weeks this has all changed. I am suddenly old. And I feel old.

Two weeks ago we were watching an episode of West Wing [isn't West Wing simply the best? At least the first couple of seasons. We have just arrived at the end of season three] and Toby Ziegler announces that he is 44. A-ha! I shout at the screen. He's 44 and he looks older than me!!!  It is then that I am informed that he doesn't. The other person in the room, at the time, casually mentions that I look older than Toby Ziegler! I am stunned. I look older than Toby Ziegler!!! This cannot be!!! However, worse is to follow. Toby Ziegler isn't a real person, he's played by an actor (and I should mention, he is played by an excellent actor!), Richard Schiff. Richard Schiff was born on 27th May, 1955. He isn't 44, he's 52 (53 in eight days). Now, I know what you are thinking, but West Wing was years ago! Wrong, when Toby Zielgler uttered those words it was 2002 - Richard Schiff was 47! The same age as I am! And he looks younger than me!!

My left shoulder hurts. The calf muscle in left leg has, mysteriously, pulled. I don't understand these odd aches and pains, these weird signals my body is sending to my brain. I feel old. Somewhere, along the way, I seem to have stopped living an active life. Before, I could move, react, without thinking. Now I seem to be a lot slower. Before, I trusted my body to do what ever I asked of it. Since I broke my foot, back in November, I have done no physical activity. Some of the reason is because Maria has asked me not to. She loves me, she loves me whole - not in broken bits. And it has been easy to blame her for my inactivity - I can't do that because my girlfriend will kill me, just after she's picked me up from hospital. And that is the key: after she's picked me up from hospital. The main reason I haven't done anything is me. I don't trust my body. I feel old. My mortality has, somehow, become very real to me.

On Wednesday, to celebrate my b'day on English time, we went to Outback for a meal. In a roundabout way, we ended up talking about me and the fact that I don't do any physical activity. The long and the short of it is:

I'm back on the football field.

Maria has conceded the fact that I need to do something, anything, and has lifted the ban on playing football. Except, it hasn't happened, yet. Today, when I got home, she asked if I'd played. I commented that I was wearing the wrong shoes. She suggested I take trainers into school. I commented about how hot it is. She suggested that I take in extra liquids. I commented that the kids weren't playing football at the moment. She suggested that they might be tomorrow. I'm writing a blog post, that she will read, to say: I might be avoiding playing football.

I suddenly feel old.

I am going to have to think about this. However, be prepared for a long blog post about my time in hospital!!

*I was once on the receiving end of the following comment. Read it, think about it, feel free to use it.

"You are so immature! You should grow up you big fat pig!!"

messing with the clock

Two weeks holiday. Two weeks to accomplish anything you want. Two weeks is enough time to fulfil most dreams. It is now two weeks exactly since I walked out at the end of a video presentation and I have done...well, very little.

When I talked to my brother I mentioned that I was on holiday. He asked me where I was going, on my holiday. We'd had plans. Maybe we'd drive down to Torreon and see Maria's family. Maybe we'd drive over to Phoenix and see a friend. Maybe we'd drive down the peninsular and see more of Baja. However, before we did any of those things we knew we'd have to get the car checked. We'd put aside $400 (USD) expecting to have change, maybe enough to buy a tyre or two. Three hours after dropping off the car we got a phone call. It was the workshop with a list of things wrong with the car. Of the fourteen things on the list we could only afford the first six. Worse, two of the things further down the list could well cost more than $500 (USD). It always amazes me how the roads seem to be full of cars that are more beat up, more in need of repair, than the car I am driving. And yet, it is always my car that is in the garage. Is it just because I'm a bit of a freak? Anyhoo, the point of the new truck was that we would have a beaten up car that we could drive around with warning lights on and not care. We got the first six things done and we'll worry about the differential later. Yes, we are driving a car around that isn't as good as yours! It is good enough for going to the beach, going for tacos, and going shopping. It isn't good enough for driving to Torreon, Phoenix, or down the peninsular. So, I answered my brother, why would I go anywhere? I'm in Mexico!

I have to take my driving test. At some point I needed to sit down and go through the written part of the test with Maria. No matter what Emilio says, I wouldn't even know how to start bribing an examiner nor, to be brutally honest, am I brave enough to actually do it. My fear of Mexican jails is a lot stronger than my fear of failing a test. It probably goes without saying, but that has never stopped me, we haven't sat down and studied yet (as if the yet means we will).

I am getting hellishly unfit. Since breaking my foot, at the end of last year, I have done no physical activity. Before this holiday started I thought that I might take up some sort of exercise regime. You know, start slow - bit of walking - and then build up to something a bit more strenuous - maybe running. Of course I didn't start at the beginning of the holiday because, well because I was on holiday! I needed a break! However, as the days have progressed I have managed to not start. And now, it is so near the end of my vacations, that it just doesn't seem worth it. I'm sure that once I get back into the classroom, I'll start walking around (instead of laying on the sofa eating crisps and drinking beer) and that will suffice.

I have managed to read - success. Reading is a joy that I always rediscover. This year I have already managed to read nine books and I am loving it. I have just started another book (having finished two books this holiday) and it is wonderful to start immersing yourself in another world. My problem is that the book (Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel - if you're interested) is over 800 pages long and I am worried that I am just not going to get enough time to read it when school starts again. With only a couple of days left I should be spending time with Maria but all I want to do is read my book.

Time with Maria - success. It always amazes me how much I love her. Every day I think that's it, I've reached the point of how much I love her, there can't be anything more, I'll just sit on this plateau. And then something else happens and I learn to love her a little bit more. Life is wonderful and the spectre of returning to work just means that I will lose eight hours a day not with her. But, the important fact is, we are in a better place than we were two weeks ago - and where we were was wonderful.

My body clock - success! The first week of the holidays I was still waking up just after six, even though the alarm wasn't set. True, I would roll over and go back to sleep but, at the back of my mind, I was still thinking that when the holiday ended I would wake up, on the first day of work, ready for action. Somehow I've managed to screw that all up. The kids stayed with us until Tuesday. While they were here we went to bed at ten, the flat is small and once the kids are settled into their beds there are only two rooms left in the house - the bathroom and our bedroom. However, Tuesday night we were on our own and ended up watching tele until 2am. W*dnesd*y I still woke at 6am but fell back to sleep almost immediately. That night we again didn't go to bed until after 2. Thursday I woke at 7, rolled over and didn't get out of bed until midday. Thursday night we went out, after 10, to a friend's house. We stayed until after 3am. This morning I woke at 9am and didn't get out of bed until after 2pm. I already know that tonight will be another late night - hell, we've only just got up! This will continue through Saturday and Sunday. Because it is Benito Juárez's birthday on Monday (yes, I know he was born on March 21st but the Queen has an official birthday which is different to her real birthday, so I am not saying a word), I have the day off work! This means that at about 10pm on Monday night I will suggest that we go to bed because I have to get up and go to work on Tuesday morning. Of course, the act of going to bed will not mean I will go to sleep. I have screwed with my body clock. Monday night I will go to bed, read, talk, read, switch the light off, toss and turn, talk a bit more, put the light back on, read a bit more, switch the light off, hopefully fall asleep at about 3am. The alarm will go off at 6:15am. I will go into school and the first question will be:

Enjoyed your holiday?

Followed by the obvious question:

Are you well rested?

To which the answer is:

NO! I had such a good holiday I've managed to mess with my body clock. I've had three hours sleep and I really don't want to be here.

Gotta lurve going back to work!

[May 1st is Labour Day in Mexico. It is a Thursday. May 5th is the anniversary of the Battle of Puebla. It is a Monday. May 10th is Mother's Day. May 15th is Teacher's Day (it is also my birthday). For those of you who are now worried that I am not getting enough free time, I have the following days off:

May 1st to May 6th. May 10th is a half day. May 15th. Kids stop coming to school on June 27th. Teachers stop coming to school on July 4th.

Gotta lurve being a teacher in Mexico.]

2007 - how was it for you?

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

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

Film:

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

Michael Clayton

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

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

Book:

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

Perfume by Patrick Suskind

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

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

Television:

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

Journeyman

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

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

Sport:

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

Santos beating Team America 4-0

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

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

Alcohol:

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

Casillero del Diablo

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

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

Game:

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

Desktop Tower Defender

Addictive beyond belief.

Food:

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

Filete Balsamico

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

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

Place:

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

Bed

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

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

2007

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

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

Peace and Love.

it's a small world

but I wouldn't want to paint it.

Conversation one:

Me: For your next writing assignment I want you to concentrate on planning and sequencing. Too often your essays are full of after thoughts, bits you had forgotten. So I want to you to properly plan what you are going to say. The easiest way to do this is to write about a vacation you have been on. Plan out what you did on each day, sequence them then write the whole thing out with more detail. But get it planned! Get it sequenced!

Silke: But I've never been on vacation.

Me: Pardon? You've never been anywhere, out of the city.

Silke: Well yes. We go to Las Vegas every other month but that is hardly interesting.

Me: You've been to Las Vegas!?! Tell me about it.

Silke: But it's boring. Everyone goes to Las Vegas.

Me: I've never been.

Silke: You've never been to Las Vegas? Everyone's been to Las Vegas.

Me: I haven't.

Silke: Yes you have.

Me: No I haven't. Have you been to London?

Silke: Don't be silly.

Me: Well you started it.

Silke: Next you'll be saying you've never been to Mexico City.

Me: Look, just write something about Las Vegas. I promise that I'll be interested.

Conversation two:

Him: @#$% Credit Card Company. How can I help you?

Me: Hi, I'm in Mexico at that moment and I have a couple of problems paying my credit card. You see, the banking system in Mexico is a joy to behold, however the one thing they don't let me do is pay off my credit card. I have to cross the border and enter the States. Now, the banking system in the States is wonderful, however the one thing they will not let me do is pay off my credit card. I have to change my pesos into dollars, buy a money order and then send it to you. This money order takes several days to arrive in your fair country. You then take several days to process this cheque. Now, I realise that none of this is your problem but it is my problem and I thought I'd like to share it with you.

Him: Mexico? Is it nice there?

Me: Yeees.

Him: Good because I've booked a holiday in Cancun next year.

Me: Oh, Cancun is beautiful.

Him: So you are near there?

Me: Well, no. It is the other side of the country.

Him: So you've been?

Me: No. It is the other side of the country. Sort of like, you know how you've never been to Moscow because it is a bit far away?

Him: Yeees?

Me: Cancun is my Moscow.

Him: But you can visit the States?

Me: Yes, because I live in Tijuana - ten miles from the States.

Him: So when I go to Cancun I can visit the States?

Me: No. Because when you are in Italy you can't visit China! Mexico - big country!! Much bigger than you'd imagine.

Him: Oh. Can I get some details please.

Me: About Mexico?

Him: No, you. Your name?

Me: Will.

Him: Your credit card number?

Me: 1234-5678-9123

Him: Your mum's maiden name?

Me: Mum.

Him: Ah, it says here that you've just paid out to a hospital.

Me: Yes. I picked up an injury.

Him: I'm wearing a cast myself.

Me: Really?

Him: Yes, picked up an injury playing football.

Me: Me too.

Him: So they have football in Mexico?

Me: Yeeees.

Him: Were you playing on Astroturf?

Me: No, concrete. Errrm, about my problem.

Him: My cast comes off on Thursday.

Me: I'm visiting the doctor on Thursday and I hope my cast comes off too...but it's about my problem, paying my credit card on time, trying to avoid excess charges because I'm late....

Him: Ah, don't worry. I've made a note in your file. Could you pay something by January 10th?

Me: Well I've sent off $100. That should cover the initial charges?

Him: Yes. That's ok. Look, good luck with the cast and have a good day.

Me: It's night here.

Him: Wow! You really are in Mexico.

not the best post I've written

I'm sat in the music room, waiting. At the moment all my colleagues are in a meeting in another part of the school. A place I can't access because of my foot. We have to come in early for these meetings, the kids also come in late, and I am sat with nothing to do. I've pulled out my laptop and am sat staring at an empty posting page. What to write? What to write? Obviously much has happened since my last post, things that I could turn into one of those long rambling posts "wot I wrote". But some of the things have made me very angry, very upset or very weirded-out. So, I'm not going to tell you much about them because it would just lead to a post full of swear words and ranting - and I really don't feel up to that...U GOT THAT m0th#r-$@ck&!!!!

She didn't get the job she applied for. She is over qualified and the school has a policy.

I am really lonely at work. The kids talk to me, and occasionally my colleagues will grunt in my direction [this comment excludes Rene], but on the whole I am lonely.

Meeting old friends for the first time. Obviously they aren't my old friends, they're hers.

Santos losing 3-0 in the first leg of the semi-finals.

The total, utter uselessness I feel when I need something "just over there".

The total love I feel when she notices I need something "just over there".

My class scored 9.92 in their spelling test this week!

But most of all I want to apologise, apologise for all those snide remarks I have made about Mexicans and their fear of rain. This morning I woke up and I could hear the rain outside. I was scared, really scared, frightened. Not because my hair would get wet, not because the roads were going to be full of idiot drivers but because the floor would be wet. The stairs down from our flat would be wet. The walkways at school would be wet. The stairs to classrooms would be wet. And I'm on crutches. Crutches that slip on wet floor. Especially wet tiled floor (as all of the flooring is, in the school). I didn't want to come to work. I didn't ant to leave the house. I didn't want to get out of bed. I was scared. I do not want to slip. I do not want to fall on to my leg, my foot and put this whole hell I have been going through back to the beginning. So, I apologise if I have ever made fun of Mexicans who are scared of a little rain!

Not the best post I've ever written. Sorry.

rhythm nation

Good news - the bone has healed!

Bad news - the cast was crap. My physical therapist (they said I had to go to rehab and I said yes! yes! yes!) blames the blackness of my foot (that would be the bruising) on the cast. Plus, it also appears that I didn't just break the bone on the outside of my foot, I also managed to tear all the ligaments on the inside of my foot.

I spent a cheerful 40 minutes with my new doctor (he's 50 donchu'no) as he and Maria discussed the idiocy of 46 year old men (that's me!) playing football. They came to an agreement that I was an idiot. I just smiled - I might be an idiot playing footy at the age of 46 but I still have great hair!

So, I've been fitted with a boot - a kickass boot. Seriously! You want someone's ass kicked - I've got the boot to do it!  Me, I thought I looked like something out of "Rhythm Nation" - however, having re-watched the video I've decided I look more like something out of "Bad". Same family (Jackson) just a different person (more Michael than Janet).

And then we had "the talk". You know, that moment when she sits me down, looks at me with her beautiful brown eyes, holds both my hands and says: "No more football - ever!" I agree, in that way that I agree. In that way that sounds like I'm agreeing and yet...she doesn't believe me. The problem is that I'm not a very believable person when it comes to promising. I promise that I won't do anything again and somehow, I seem to forget and suddenly I am breaking my promise. A bit like six months ago, when I twisted my knee playing footy and I promised that I wouldn't play football ever again. Ah, now I see her point of view. I probably definitely ain't trustworthy.

The doctor chimes in with "get him a playstation". Maria offers me a Wii. I can play footy on that, play American Football, wrestle - play any contact sport I want without physically putting myself at risk (except my thumbs). I say no - can you believe that? I turned down a games console? I'm not sure that I actually did that but I did!

The doctor looks at me puzzled. He asks me if I want a prescription for painkillers. I laugh and tell him that I love living in Tijuana, the drug centre of the world. He peers at me over the top of his prescription pad and informs me that he is being serious. Would I like drugs? And if I do, would I like plain or funky?

Me, I'm just a part of the rhythm nation!

little steel balls

You're happy?

Yeah.

You probably are. But not like, really happy.

I am.

No, you're not. You know those mobiles? Those mobiles with lots of little steel balls on them?

Errrr...

They're not for children. More for adults. They have them on their desks.

You mean a Newton's Cradle?

No. It is more like a tree. There are loads of steel wires, rods - articulated rods that fan out. You attach the steel ball bearings to the ends. It takes ages, you have to be really careful. Then when you are finished the whole thing keeps moving. All the balls balance, really carefully. The structure is wonderful - a bit like perpetual motion. All those silver balls moving together perfectly. You can watch it for hours. But, you should never touch it. If you touch one of the balls, just move it out of its preferred method of movement the whole structure comes crashing down. Little steel balls everywhere. You end up treading on them for weeks. Months later you can still here them rattling up the vacuum cleaner. You're like that. You're happy and in motion the whole time. You're wonderful to watch. But the minute something upsets you the whole structure collapses. Oh, you like to think that nothing phases you, that stuff washes over you but you're wrong. The minute one thing goes out of balance you crash. You break your leg and all your little steel balls end up over the floor. True, you're happy but not really happy.

Hmmm.

What are you thinking about?

I'm thinking about how difficult it will be to get to the toilet on crutches if the floor is covered with lots of little steel balls.

Yeah that's the way you would go. I love you

I love you.

thank you

Where to start?

Could you get me a coke? Thank you.
The pile of pillows? Thank you.
Help me dress? Thank you.
I just need... Thank you.
I'm tired and I really don't think... Thank you.
This needs doing. Thank you.
Do we have...? Thank you.
I can't do this. Thank you.
My bandage is too tight/too loose. Thank you.
I'm hungry. Thank you.
I want to cry, will you hold me? Thank you.
Make me laugh. Thank you.
Do this, do that. Thank you.

Three years ago I didn't know what was missing from my life. Two years ago I discovered that what I really wanted in life was to love. To love with passion, to love with determination, to really, really love someone. But most of all I realised that I needed to be loved. It wasn't just the caring for someone it was having someone care about me. I wanted to be loved for who I was, what I am.

She loves me. She cares for me. She looks after me. She loves me.

Thank you.

November 17th 2005 I landed at San Diego airport. Two years ago (almost) I fell into her arms, her care. She is my angel. She is wonderful. My life is perfect. I love. I am loved.

Thank you.

pain

It's not the pain from my foot. That's there the whole time - a dull throbbing ache that becomes sharper the closer I get to medication time. Nah, the foot just hurts, that's a given. And it is not that I'm bad about pain. I'm not. I actually think that I'm quite resilient to pain (yeah, I know, at some stage someone will have to mention childbirth and I'm pretty sure that I couldn't handle an action man (GI Joe) being dragged out the end of my penis), I can live with it, get on with my life. The thing that really causes me problems is knowing that there is going to be pain. I don't go to the dentist because I know it is going to hurt - when I do go I can live with the pain, it is the expectation of pain I dislike. I can never understand boxing - it isn't the hitting the other man that puzzles me, it is the volunteering to be hit that makes me wonder. Volunteering for pain is just not my thing.

The alarm goes off in the morning - at the moment it is Beck in the CD player. I lay there like a beached whale but, unlike a beached whale, it isn't that I can't move, it is that I don't want to. I need the toilet, I need to get up, get dressed. Need to go to work. I need to move but I don't want to because I know the pain this is going to cause. The heels of my hands are red and sore, I am waiting for the blisters to appear. My armpits are bruised and sensitive. My left leg will be in agony - my knee, my ankle are tired. It's not the rolling out of bed, the pain from my right foot moving from a dull ache to a stabbing pain. It is the decision to pick up my crutches that I hate. The soreness of my hands as I pull myself up. The rubbing of the crutches as they slot in under my armpits. The stabbing pain in my knee, my ankle as I swing my body forward and my weight lands on my left leg. All these things are going to happen and I know it, I know that I am going to be in pain. And I don't like volunteering for pain.

And it is so tiring. The dealing with the pain seems to take so much energy - it can't be the actual walking, I'm fairly used to walking. But going up/down a flight of stairs is just mentally knackering and that turns into a physical knackering.

Sometimes, half-way down a flight of stairs there comes a temptation to just say "fuck it" and let go. Just fall. I'm sure I'll get to the bottom a lot quicker, a lot easier. But I don't let go because, although I will avoid the pain caused by easing my way down, I know that there will be a certain amount of pain involved in bouncing down the stairs - and I don't volunteer for pain.

There's a temptation to just stay in bed. There's a temptation to just piss myself (and sometimes I think that Maria loves me so much that she would just let it slide), wallow in my own inadequacies, my own fear of pain.

There's a temptation not to go to work, just phone in and tell them that I am in too much pain, stay in bed all day - hell, just make it to the toilet and sit there all day, Maria at my beck and call (sometimes I think that she loves me so much that she would drag the TV/the computer into the toilet and let me live there - serving me my meals).

But I don't. I get up. I go to work. I work. I come home. And I just want to be able to move without pain. Sod the pain in my foot - I deserve that pain - but do I deserve all the extra pain? Was, what I did, so wrong that I need my body to punish me in this way?

Yes.

Maria looks at me, talks to me, I promise her that I will never play football again and she doesn't believe me. Hell, if it was just a broken foot and the pain that causes I probably wouldn't believe me either. But it is more than the foot - it is the rest of my body. Two weeks, maybe three weeks, of this I have to get through. Four days in and I mean it when I say I won't play footy again. Another ten/seventeen days of this and I might never go dancing again!

And yeah, I realise that there are several thousand night club owners breathing a sigh of relief at this moment!

he speaks english - when he wants

We enter the emergency ward. There's a guy wearing a red t-shirt (GWRT) who has picked up on the fact that Maria and I are speaking English and is desperate to talk to me as much as possible - he isn't the doctor. He is a guy who just hangs round hospitals waiting to practise his English with patients. The nurse helps me onto the bed while the doctor totally ignores me and talks to Maria. In between talking to GWRT (hey, I love your accent. It's is English? Wow! It is so much easier to understand than Americans. I love your English) I listen in to Maria talking Soanish to the doctor.

Maria: ...something...something...something...Viernes.
Doctor: Viernes?
Maria: Viernes!
Doctor: Viernes!!

He looks at me and in that look I can read a thousand things - most of them begin with: asshole! I want to tell him about my fear of doctors, my fear of hospitals, my fear of being really ill. I want to tell him about the time I visited my grandpa in hospital, watching him die. I know that none of it would make sense. All I can feel is his total disbelief that it has taken two (+) days for me to appear in front of him. I am humbled.

I need an X-ray and although I am prepared to move to the X-ray room it appears that I can stay where I am, GWRT is willing to drag the portable X-ray device into the emergency ward - he likes me! GWRT gets the machine and then drags the X-ray-taking-guy into the room. When everything is set up GWRT disappears into another room with Maria while the doctor hides behind the technician (and his iron apron). When it is finished they shout to Maria and GWRT to come out the room but we can hear them, happily chatting away and so the doctor is forced to talk to me, on his own, as the technician sets up for another X-ray.

Doctor: You smoke?
Me: [pause - do I lie?] Yep.
Doctor: How many?
Me: A pack a day.
Doctor: Two hundred cigarettes a day?
Me: NO!! Not a carton. A pack. Twenty cigarettes a day. Venti. Probably less.
Doctor: 20?
Me: Yes.

Maria and GWRT appear back in the room in time for them to be sent back out. Another X-ray is to be taken and Maria and GWRT disappear into another room. When it is finished they are called back into the room. They don't appear and we can hear them chatting away quite happily. The doctor doesn't want to talk to me again so he waits. When Maria appears he asks her another question:

Doctor: [something in Spanish]
Maria: Dos, tres cervezas.
Doctor: Cada semana?
Maria: Cada dia.
Doctor: Cada dia!!!

At this moment GWRT looks at me in awe and asks: You drink 2/3 beers a day? He totally forgets to add "respek" to the end of his sentence!

The technician returns and slaps the X-rays up on the screen - for a moment I feel like I'm in an episode of House. Maria looks at the X-rays and turns and tells me that they look perfectly normal, my foot is OK. Relief washes over me and I get a fit of the giggles. We've been watching The Shield and a line that Dutch uses: Not funny now, funny later leaps to my mind. This is funny now! And as I giggle the doctor looks at the X-ray and then talks to Maria. She turns and repeats what the doctor has said. I hear partial bits: hairline fracture; foot could have cracked totally; broken off. I curl up into a ball on the hospital gurney. I feel sick. I want to die. And then the doctor speaks English for the second time. He looks at me and says:

Doctor: We could donate your foot to someone who only has one foot!

Reality bites. The nurse returns from the pharmacy and they don't have any plastic casts that will fit my foot. No worries, the doctor (who shows an obscene amount of joy at my suffering - that will teach me to wait two+ days to turn up at hospital) will make me a cast, a personal, home-made cast! If I want he will sign it personally!

As he builds the thing around my foot Maria phones friends. They had visited the night before and told us that they had a pair of crutches - could we borrow them? As Maria talks on the phone to Ileana the doctor chooses to talk to me for the third time:

Doctor: You don't speak much Spanish?
Me: Nope.
Doctor: So you don't understand what your wife is saying on the phone?
Me: Nope.
Doctor: Good! You don't want to speak Spanish.
Me: It's not good? What she is saying?
Doctor: You don't want to speak Spanish.

Maria is telling a story on her mobile and there is much laughing.

We leave the hospital. I thank everyone, nurses, doctors, GWRT - I want to invite them home for a carne asada. Even though it was bad news - got to keep my weight off my right foot for 2/3 weeks, it is broken, I am might be an alcoholic - I love each and everyone of them. But, most of all, I love the doctor. I've never liked a doctor much - even the one who checked my testicles - but this one, this one I know that I could spend time with. This doctor I know is the sort of guy who I could meet in a bar, have a couple of drinks with, go home and call it a brilliant night out.

Except, of course, he would be a bit disappointed that I had 2/3 beers and smoked 200 cigarettes. But, at least, he spoke English to me three times!