I've found my home

champions! champions!!

The mighty Santos Laguna

CHAMPIONS! CHAMPIONS!!

CHAMPIONS!!!

[In a whole not funny now, not funny later, but one hell of a story to tell your grandchildren moment: it was hot in Torreon today, very hot. How hot was it? Well, the Championship Trophy was on display outside the ground for two hours before kick-off. When the match started the trophy was meant to brought in. However, the person who picked up the trophy to carry it in lost all the skin on his hand and had to be rushed to hospital. Unfortunately, the trophy had been in the sun and was at the temperature of "I cook skin".]

the kiss of death

[This isn't really about football, so you don't have to panic. Just skim read the first paragraph.]

Incident One

It's been building since Sunday. The excitement. The tension. We haven't said anything to each other because we didn't want to jinx it, but it has hovered between us, unspoken. Maria has supported the mighty Santos Laguna all her life, and all her life has been filled with disappointment after disappointment. Oh, there was 1996 and 2001, when they actually won the Championship, but, on the whole it hasn't been great fun to be a mighty Santos follower. They finished 2006 with the threat of relegation. And then I appeared on the scene! Suddenly their fortunes have changed. I have supported a team that wins - wins big and wins often. When we watch matches together, there are two totally different supporters in the room. One (Maria) is full of doom and gloom, waiting for the inevitable collapse, the crushing heartache. The other (me) is full of optimism, waiting for the equaliser, the hat-trick, the annihilation of the opposition. On Sunday the mighty Santos, 92 minutes into a 90 minute game (go figure) managed to squeeze into the finals [and yes, by that point, one person was crying into her pillow waiting the inevitable defeat, one person was sat on the edge of his seat waiting for the inevitable victory].

So, we haven't talked about the football. Thursday night (the first game in a two leg series) has been hanging over us.

We got back home, from work, at about 3pm. The match kicked off at 6pm. Neither of us said anything about the game, it was just there, hanging between us. We talked about inconsequential things. By 5:30pm I was sat at the computer, wasting time, and Maria wandered into the television room, to put on the pre-game show.

Maria: Will, come here.

Me: Ummm. [not moving]. There's a problem?

Maria: Will, come here!

Me: What? [not moving] Is the game not on?

Maria: WILL! COME HERE!!

I move, fast! This sounds like a cockroach problem. I should have been more sensitive in my listening!!

Me: What? Where? I'll get it!!

Maria: Look.

Me: Where?

Maria: There.

Me: WHERE?

Maria: At the tv.

Me: WHAT?? There is nothing on the tele. I can't see the cockroach!!

Maria: What cockroach?

Me: Well, what the hell have you called me in here for?

Maria: To look at the tv! LOOK AT THE TV!!

Me: There's nothing to see on the television. There's nothing to se....oh!

Maria: YES! OH!! There's no picture on the tv!

Me: What have you done?

Maria: I don't know. I do know. I'm sorry. It's me. I've killed the television.

Me: What? Why? What? No, let's go with: WHY?

Maria: It's me. I have the kiss of death. I killed the television. I noticed it this morning. It was on but there was no picture. I switched it off. Switched it on. There was a picture. Switched it off. Switched it on again, just now. There is no picture. I've killed the television!

Me: No. It's fine. Just switch it off. Switch it back on. It'll be fine.

Maria: It won't. [switches the tele off and on again - there is still no picture] I took the wrong television.

Me: What?

Maria: Four years ago I killed this television. It imploded. My ex went at it with a soldering iron, fixed it, and announced that it would last another two years. That was four years ago. When I left him I took the wrong television. I should have taken the new one. But it weighed 80kg. When you are running away it is probably not a good idea to run with an 80kg television.

Me: But the match! The match!?! What are we going to do about the match????

Maria: No. This is worse. IT is back.

Me: What's back?

Maria: The Kiss of Death. I have the kiss of death. I've killed the television. Oh god, oh god, oh god. What will be next?

Incident Two

The next day. [For those of you keeping tabs - the mighty Santos won the game 2-1. The second match is on Sunday. There is a whole different story about how we got to watch the second half of the game but I'm not telling it now.] I'm in the middle of a rehearsal, arguing with the dance teacher. She wants the actors to start their dance laying on the floor. There is no logical reason for this to happen. I have no idea how to get the actors from a standing position, into a prone position, to leap to their feet, back into a standing position. It makes no sense. Unfortunately  the dance teacher speaks no English and the (little) Spanish I speak means that I can: order beer and tacos: ask after a person's health: inform someone that their mother is a whore and I know this for a fact because I slept with her last night, me and thirty other men - oh, and she wasn't that good in bed either, well, not as good as the person's sister, whom I had had the pleasure of taking the night before! I'm not sure that any of these conversational gambits will be of much use (although the third one would give me a certain amount of stress relief), when my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Text from Maria: I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I have the kiss of death!

Text to Maria: What's happened?

Text from Maria: I killed the iron.

Text to Maria: Are you ok?

Text from Maria: No. I've got the kiss of death. What else will go wrong?

Text to Maria: Stay away from the microwave.

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!

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!!"

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.

sorry, no photos

It's the end of the school day and kids are going home. The main gates are open, there is a teacher on the microphone relaying children's names from the teacher carrying the radio-phone. He is walking down the line of cars, asking parents for their names. The children then move to the main gates and where one, of three, teachers will escort them to their car, open the door and make sure they are going home with the correct person. I am on "bench" duty. I wander up and down the walkway, moving the kids along the benches, nearer the main gate, verbally nudging them when they miss their names over the tannoy. I look up, over the playground, where Professor Dandy (yep, that's his real name) is taking seven boys for football practice. [Note for newer visitors - on this blog football means a round ball that you kick with your feet. Handling the ball is an offence in football.] I run out the gate to where Maria is already parked waiting for me to finish work.

Me: I love you.
Maria: I love you.
Me: Do you have the camera?
Maria: I love you.
Me: I love you and do you have the camera?
Maria: Yes, it's in my backpack.
Me: Can I have it please?

Armed with the camera I rush back into school and onto the playground. Professor Dandy sees I am armed with a camera and "strikes the pose". I smile at him, point out that I don't need photographic proof that he is trying to grow a moustache, I assure him that the seven wispy hairs that he has on his upper lip is a wonderful moustache, and I am not taking a picture of him because my girlfriend will piss herself laughing at his pre-pubescent moustache fall madly in love with him and leave me. No, it is the kids I want to take a picture of.

I group the children exactly how I want them, turn the camera on, and the lens fails to pop out of the case. Damn! Must have it set to review pictures. Nope, it's definitely on picture. A glance at the screen tells me that there is not enough battery. Well, there's enough battery to put a message up on the screen, why isn't there enough for me to take one picture. I eject the battery and rub it on my sleeve - that always works with the batteries in the tele remote! Replace the battery, turn it on and...nothing. Nothing except a message telling me I need to charge my battery. I run back out of school.

Me: Do you have the other battery?
Maria: Why?
Me: This battery is dead.
Maria: Are you sure?
Me: Well, it won't take a picture.
Maria: You've probably got it stuck on review pictures. Let me look.
Me: It's the battery.
Maria: It's the battery.
Me: I know! Do we have the other battery?
Maria: No. It's at home.

So, there's no picture. But if a picture's worth a thousand words then surely I can paint this picture for you in less than a thousand. Close your eyes and imagine - oh, hang on, don't close your eyes, you can't read with your eyes closed, just imagine - seven boys lined up for a photo. Four boys are kneeling on one knee, three boys are stood at the back. The four kneeling boys are all wearing the school's sweatshirt - a flag that is composed of half of the Union Jack and half of the Stars and Stripes (the school is called The Br!tish Americ@n School - it's genius!). The three boys at the back are wearing replica football shirts. The on in the middle is wearing a Mexico team shirt - obviously, THIS IS MEXICO! The other two are wearing [drumroll - this is the big moment, the moment when you would have all looked at the picture and gone WTF*?] Manchester United shirts!! Not just any Manchester United shirt but the Manchester United AWAY shirt! THIS IS MEXICO! One of the kids has Ronaldo's name on the back, the other has Rooney's name. THIS IS MEXICO! Am I the only one who sees the incongruity of this fact?  In a recent survey of "best supported football teams within their own country" [and yes, I'm annoyed that I can't find a link to the survey!] Mexico was in position two and three with Chivas and America. Why the hell are two boys, two Mexican boys, wearing ManUre shirts (and yes, that is what I call Manchester United because I am that petty and childish). It makes no sense to me! Now, if they were wearing a Sheffield United shirt I could fully understand it!

*Of course, I also realise that of, my readers, probably only one might have recognised a Manchester United away shirt - which is why this is a better story without the picture!

it's not quite the BBC

We're sat watching the mighty Santos playing football on the television. One of their players has a new haircut. He has shaved all the hair off the sides and the back of his head, leaving a small coaster of hair balanced on the top. Actually that isn't the only hair left - he also has the number eleven written (?) in hair on the back of his head. This has caused some consternation with the commentators, inspiring one commentator to suddenly state:

Comm 1: He looks like a fool. That is the worst haircut I have ever seen.

Comm 2: You can't say things like that about people's hair.

Comm 1: Why not? He's a fool. It should be pointed out to him.

Comm 2: No wonder you get into so many fights.

Comm 1: I don't get into fights!

Comm 2: Then how did you get that bruise on your face then?

Comm 1: I got this bruise falling out of bed last night. And if you want to know why, ask your wife!

There then followed ten seconds of complete silence - well, complete silence from the commentators, it was very noisy in our living room!

win one - draw one - one to go

Sunday 27th January: Heffield v Man City at 8am.

That's what it said on the Sky Guide. Fortunately I knew that Sheffield United were playing Manchester City at 4pm on Sunday 27th January. I got to watch the MIGHTY Blades on tele! And they won!!

Santos Laguna only managed a draw (because I know you're interested).

Although I am waiting on Helly's fool-proof method for picking the SuperBowl winner (something to do with what college the players attended) it is time to stick my neck out and say who I WANT to win next Sunday.

I would like the Giants to win!

Probably ain't going to happen but me, I like the underdog!

not the best sporting weekend

Sheffield United played Sheffield W*dsh*t* (that's Wednesday for those who don't know) on Saturday. It was a morning kick off in England which meant it was a very early morning kick off here in Mexico. So early, in fact, that by the time I got up (7am on a Saturday morning!) it was all over. The might Blades had lost to the pigs 2-0.

This should have been bad news but I knew that the god of sports was playing with me. There were two other matches that I had some emotional involvement with this weekend and so, I knew, that they were going to go well.

4pm on Saturday afternoon the Mexican football season kicked off (in practice, the second half of the season but it is a new competition - Clausura, the closing part of the season). Santos, unbeaten in the first half of the season (Apuerta - opening), had been beaten in the semi-finals of the play-offs. This was their chance to stamp their authority on a new beginning. But they didn't.

They have bought one new player during the Christmas break. Unfortunately he is a player that we cannot stand, loathe passionately. We know him well, his name is Arce - that's pronounced arsey. Arce by name, arsey by nature! He didn't gel with the team at all. Worse our star goalkeeper was also back. After having been injured for most of 2007, Mexico's national keeper, Oswaldo Sanchez, was back in goal for Santos. Last year we had enjoyed the antics of the fattest man in football, our reserve keeper, who had kept us in many a game - mainly by being so fat that he filled the goal. Mainly by being so angry all the time (it was probably just hunger pangs) that our defenders were too scared to mess up and opposing attackers were too frightened to get near our goal (in case he accidently ate one of them). Saturday saw Sanchez letting go of our one goal led by failing to "fill the goal". In fact, he let the ball go through his legs. Santos remain unbeaten (the score was 1-1) but we threw away a victory. Never mind, I said to myself, that means that the third game, the most important one will go my way. I trust the god of sport. Once again, I have to report that a god failed me!

If you follow American Football (the NFL - or for those with a desire to speak Spanish, the any-efey-elley) you know that the New England Patriots are unbeaten this season. This might be good news if you are a Pats fan, not if you support any other team that might have to play them. I am a San Diego Chargers supporter (Go Bolts!). One match away from the Super Bowl and the Chargers had to play the Pats. Everyone had written the Chargers off, there was no way they could beat the "greatest team in NFL history since the last greatest team". But I had faith in my Bolts. The Blades had lost, Santos had drawn, the Chargers would win!

Sunday we got up and ran across the border (I say ran but I mean we queued for an hour and finally crawled over) because a Borders book shop was closing - 40% off every book in store! We couldn't miss that. We saved over $40 (yes, I know that means we spent over $100 but think...this month we have spent over $250 on books!!! Do you know how happy that makes me feel? [very]) and legged it back to Mexico. A quick stop in the supermarket to stock up with Budweiser, crisps, hot dogs (we are watching American Football) and we were back in front of the tele for the kick off.

The Chargers lost.

But, this is 2008. I am loving 2008! Although my teams keep losing (or drawing) at least there is a bright side. I'm here in Mexico, which means I won't walk into any W*dsh*t* fans who can gloat. I sat and watched my team play footy on a Saturday afternoon and they didn't lose. I bought over $140 worth of books, ate hot dogs and drank my way through a six pack of Budweiser - all before 5pm on a Sunday afternoon. Does life get much better than this?

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.