I've found my home

an apology

I can't post. Tried to start three different posts and failed miserably. Can't get the sentences to join. Can't get an idea to flow. Can't express what I want.

I'm going to blame fatigue. The academic year finished yesterday. Last week was a long wind down from the Lion King, through graduation, academic post mortems, to a last day meeting. Last night I had a very enjoyable evening out in the company of friends - five hours that felt like one. Physically I just want to sleep, mentally I need to detox. Writing posts seems impossible.

Have read Housekeeping vs The Dirt (excellent) and Lucifer:Crux (so-so). Dipped into Engulfed in Flames (luvverly and funny). Tearing my way through The Yiddish Policeman's Union (genius).

Listening to the new Coldplay album (learning to love it) and rocking away to the new Weezer album (brilliant).

Seen WALL-E (fantastic) and Wanted (awful).

Worrying about the finalists of Hell's Kitchen and So You Think You Can Dance (I have become this shallow).

Started a new diet in order to control my IBS which has flared up again.

But most of all I need to sleep. I need to rest. I just don't have the words.

I am still alive, still happy, still madly in love, still in Mexico.

Regular service will be returned once I've recharged.

graduation time

Not that it particularly interests you but, this is my blog,so I'll publish and be damned.

Today is graduation day for the sixth grade. I will be giving a speech. This is a copy of the speech. Be glad that you are not sat, in the sun, listening to it.

Ask the question Olaya.

For those of you who didn’t hear the question, during most lessons, at some point, Olaya will raise her hand, and ask: Are you happy? Today my answer is YES. Obviously this should come as a bit of a shock – this is not supposed to be a happy occasion. In fact, according to the instructions I normally receive, this is supposed to be the moment I should cry – or at least I should make some of you cry.

However, and there is still a chance that one of us might cry, and it might still be me, I AM HAPPY. Let me explain. My job as a teacher, our jobs as educators, isn’t just to fill your heads with knowledge; it is to prepare you for the world outside. Moving on to Junior High isn’t all about being able to answer the question paper; it is also about being equipped to deal with life. It’s a bigger school. It’s a different school. In two months time you will be entering a brand new world. For some of you, who have been here at the British American Institute for over six years, it will be well removed from your comfort zone. For all of you it is going to be scary.

There are, probably, four questions you are asking yourselves:
Will the work be much harder?
Will the teachers be horrible and nasty?
Will I make new friends?
Will I survive?

Let me answer them.

Will the work be harder?
Yes – except you will find that B@I has prepared you well for the challenge. I know for a fact that most of you are going to find the maths easy and all of you are going to find the English lessons very, very easy. But, in other subjects, you will also find the going not as difficult as you imagine. In three months time you will want thank your teachers, here at B@I – by then it might be too late, today might be the day! Before you leave, for the final time, find a teacher and thank them.

Will the teachers be horrible and nasty?
Yes, of course. ALL teachers are horrible and nasty! Except they aren’t. Take it from me – and let’s face it, I have known teachers from all over the world. ALL teachers have the one same aim – to teach. If you are willing to learn, they are willing to teach. Try to go to war with a teacher and you will find that it isn’t a war you can win. Learn to respect every teacher, learn to work with a teacher, and learn to treat each teacher as an individual. We all have different rules – learn those rules and you’ll get on fine.

Will I make new friends?
Yes. True, some of your new friends won’t be from Rosorito. Some of your new friends won’t be irresistible. Some of your new friends won’t want to play Power Rangers with you at recess – in fact, as a tip, don’t ask anyone to play Power Rangers on your first day at junior high…at least wait until the second day. But you will make new friends. That said; don’t forget your old friends. Look around you now, at the people sat beside you, in front of you, behind you. The people sat with you will turn out to be amongst some of the best friends you ever make. Take the time, today, to thank them for their company, their support, for their friendship. In twenty years time, yes twenty years time – believe me - you will be telling your children about these people. It will be terrible if you don’t thank them now for the joy they have brought you.

Will you survive?
No. Oh, hang on, that was my answer if you had left in the fifth grade. The answer now, as you leave as sixth graders, is, emphatically YES! Yes you can! Think back to those early days in the fifth grade. Think about the children you were. And now, now think about the young adults you have become. You have all changed so much in the last year. You have become taller, you have become more beautiful (or handsome), and you have become more intelligent. However, and much more importantly, you have become better, much better people. True fact, when you were the fifth grade, you were hard work – every.single.lesson. Then, when Miss Lilian asked me to teach the English – waaay back in 2007 – my first reaction was NO! But now, now it is completely different. You are completely different. Now, you are a joy to teach. I enjoy teaching maths, the English – hey, even Values and “Soup for the Soul of a Teenage Chicken” is fun! Yes, you have changed. Yes you will survive Junior High.

And, because I can answer YES to those four questions, because you can answer YES to those four questions – I am happy. My job is done.

Now, before I start to cry, I leave you with one other thought, and forgive me if my pronunciation isn’t perfect, because I’ll leave you with one thought, in Spanish:

Si se puede. Chipotle!

'tis done

The Lion King

Done, done, on to the next.

Last night was the performance of The Lion King. Six months work compressed into (just under) two hours. And it went off perfectly.

Actually it didn't - there were problems, hitches, disasters, mistakes, and moments of pure panic. However, all of those happened behind/off stage, the audience was totally unaware of any of them.

The children were wonderful. No lines forgotten - in fact, at one point when Simba was in the wrong place/un-microphoned/partially costumed, Pumba and Timon managed to ad lib a five minute section. When you realise that these characters were being played by a ten year old and an eight year old, in front of an audience of 800+, you have to applaud their skills and abilities.

The costumes were spectacular, the scenery was stunning, the dances were magnificent, the acting was awesome. It appears that during Mufasa's death scene several members of the audience were reduced to tears - not bad eh?

A standing ovation at the end, with demands to do the whole play again! Requests for repeat performances and inquiries into whether I will run an acting course during the holidays! A firm NO to all three!

'Tis done. Time to pack everything away into the memory box to be dragged out at a later date.

For now I just have to pick myself up! As the play finished my body imploded. It is amazing how you can carry on under so much stress, without realising how much you are putting your body through. As the curtain fell a great sense of relief washed over me and I mentally and physically crashed.

I have spent most of today apologising to Maria for the bastard I have probably been over the last couple of days, and thanking her for her support.

Now, just have to get through Monday - Graduation - and the rest of the week - nothing planned but there are no kids in school - and then I can crawl into bed and die.

Gotta lurve the end of a school year!

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.

dog days

TPTB have spoken (in this case TPTB are SEP - the education board): No academic lessons are to be taught this week! Only activities are to occur in schools.  However, schools are to remain open until July 4th.

Every morning we drive past a school bus that is parked at the side of the road. Normally the bus is filled, stuffed. Often, when we drive pass, they are stuffing children into the luggage compartments and lashing them to the roof. This week there has been no bus! There is just a small white van, containing ten happy smiling teachers. They are happy because their school has taken the option of not having children in the school! The way a school proves it is open to SEP, is to get the teachers to sign in and sign out every day. The thinking goes, so long as the teachers are present, then the school is open. Happy, smiling teachers are a sign of teachers going to work in an empty school.

I have a list (yes, I am that anally retentive that sometimes I draw up a list) of:

my top ten favourite days as a teacher:

1) The middle of vacations - the days when you have forgotten the job.

2) The end of vacations - the days when you are preparing for a new year, a new start. Full of enthusiasm.

3) The beginning of vacations - I normally am ill because my body just collapses. But I ain't in school!

4) Days off in the working week - is there anything better than a paid, free day!

5) Weekends - no school!

6) Days when you just rock as a teacher - few and far between but the belief in these days are what makes you get up every morning.

7) Days when pupil x isn't in school - there is always one child that you have to fight with, one child who keeps you on the edge, and the day he isn't in school is the day that you find the most stress free day. Note: these days are exceedingly rare because pupil x's parents also find him difficult and so send him to school even when he is near death's door, just to get him out of the house. Double note: Although his parents find him difficult they will not admit this in the many (many) meetings you will have with them - it is all the teachers fault.*

8) Days when I am teaching - odd that this should appear so far down the list because, honestly, I love my job.

9) Days when it all goes wrong as a teacher -nuff said.

10) Days when I don't have to teach, I just babysit - schools don't have the resources to entertain children.

Friday is the day of the school performance: The Lion King. This is something that the school has been working up to all year. This is the thing that the school will use to sell itself. There is no way (no way) that the school can release the children into the wild and expect them to turn up on Friday, ready to perform. So the children are in school.

With nothing to do.

Abso-tively-poso-lutely nothing to do.

I am, at this moment, a paid babysitter.

Schools are not equipped to entertain children for seven hours a day. Resources are finite. If you have money to spend, you spend it on teaching aids, educational aids. You don't spend your money on things that will entertain children on activity days. Oh sure, as a teacher you have the one lesson that covers a blank moment on the timetable - that moment when you have to cover a lesson and there is no lesson plan. But for seven hours? Forget it. As an adult (and I believe that both my readers are adults) you know that there is nothing worse than when your child/nephew/niece/next-door-neighbour's-kid mutters those immortal words: "I'm bored". Now try to imagine what it is like when twenty-five kids say it. And then look at you for inspiration. It is hell. Hell on wheels!

Today is W*dnesd*y. I have gone through three days of this. Personally it feels like twelve. Each minute feels like an hour. Each hour feels like a day. The thermometer hasn't fallen below 35 degrees. Stuck in a classroom with 20+ kids who are bored out of their little cotton socks.

To paraphrase Marvin (and if you don't know who Marvin is, you need to hand in your geek credentials at the door):

Life. Don't talk to me about life. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and they ask me to babysit kids!

I am living in dog days.

*My ex-sister-in-law once asked me to speak on behalf of her son - he had been excluded from a school. When I inquired as to why, I was informed that it was "something trivial - he hadn't done any homework for a month".  When I asked if the school had given them some sort of notice, there had to have been some sort of warning, I was told that the parents had ignored the warnings because "the school just picked on their child after the last two incidents".  The last two incidents? It appears that the first incident, when he attempted to burn down the school, wasn't actually the child's fault. It was the teacher's. He had complained that their son wasn't showing enough creativity. In retaliation the child had tried to set fire to the science lab with a bunsen burner. The second offence was also the teacher's fault. The teacher (the fool) had asked for a 1500 word essay and only given their child a month to write the thing. When the child turned in a 30 word essay the teacher had the audacity to grade it with an "F". This was enough provocation for my nephew to actually punch the teacher. As my ex-sister-in-law told me: "He was asking for it. Everyone knows my son is intelligent! It doesn't matter what his essay looks like, the teacher should know that it is worth more than an F." After punching the teacher, the child was suspended. Except that was recinded because, as the parents argued, the teacher was asking for it when he gave the child an F. Although, the school took him back, they did stress that the third strike on his record meant he would be out. This wasn't good enough for his parents, and the fact he hadn't done any work for the past month wasn't his/their fault it was the school's. He hit a teacher!!!!! I refused to talk on his behalf...and that was "only 'cos you're a teacher. You're just siding with them. You just prove our point! All teachers are shit! It has nothing to do with our son!"

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!

the duck and parrot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

speed blogging VI

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

Sunday

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

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

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

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

Monday

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

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

Tuesday

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

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

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

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

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.