I've found my home

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.

the terrific tales of Action Will

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

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

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

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

9:23am - go for shower.

9:34am - still going for a shower.

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

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

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

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

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

11:23am - leave Starbucks with empty bladder.

11:31am - enter Blockbusters.

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

11:45am - leave Blockbusters.

12:02pm - arrive at supermarket.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

look it up

I am full of boring/useless information. Some of it has to do with the fact that I am male and, therefore, seem to collate information, store it, and then regurgitate it (in an attempt to impress women/men/students/myself)*. However, most of my information has been gathered because of my mother. My mother is not the brightest button on the cardigan of the world. Actually, that isn't true. My mother is not the most knowledgeable person in the world, but she is very bright. A lot of it has to do with leaving school at the age of 14. This meant that whenever I would ask her a question, her reply would always be: Look it up. But this wasn't a throw-away comment, a pacifier for an annoying child. No, my mother would always follow the phrase, two hours later, with: What's the answer? I would have to answer my own question to her satisfaction. And, therein lies the rub. My mother's satisfaction was not necessarily my satisfaction. Quite often, she wanted an answer with more depth than I did. Thus, evenings would be spent with me, sent from the living room to the study, surrounded by reference books, dictionaries**, encyclopaedias, a pad of paper, and a pen. Before I went to bed, I would have to report to my mother my findings. I am 47 years old and I am full of boring/useless information.

Being the font of all knowledge has stood me in good stead in my career. I have discovered that children (the bastards) can be very inquisitive. The direction that you want the lesson to go in, is not necessarily the direction that children take you in. But, often, if you believe in "education as the creation of the free-thinking autonomous human being", you have to go in that direction. I am not a great believer in the phrase "because I told you so!" On my wall, in the classroom, I have a notice that reads: "Mr. Kay does not know everything, but yesterday he discovered:" Underneath this I write some piece of information that was inspired by a conversation in a lesson (or a direction that I want to take a conversation in). Often, this inspires students to discover more. More often it forces some fact into the students' faces that means they are learning something that makes them better people.

The t'internet has been a fantastic revelation to me (I'm old). For those of you (both of you) who read my previous blog, you may remember my total joy when I discovered Google Earth. That wonder still hasn't died (and if you have never used Google Earth, you must.  Google Earth is just the most gob-smacking thing out there. It is the reason to upgrade your computer. It is the reason to have an internet connection. Can you tell it rocks my world?). The t'internet is all those evenings in my parent's study, pouring over books - but, and here is the thing that you have to be my age to appreciate, it has all the answers. Yes, there is a lot of shit out there, too much donkey-porn, but, I can't explain the absolute joy I feel every time I open a google search, knowing that there is an answer out there, one click away. Damn, I love the t'internet!

I love Maria.

Maria is wonderful. One (if not the one) reason that I love Maria is that she loves me. And a lot of her love for me is based around the fact that she thinks I am wonderful. One of the reasons that she thinks I'm wonderful is that I normally have an answer for any question. She asks a question, I answer. Two minutes ago she asked me the meaning of "natty". I knew the answer without having to turn to Google. She loves me. She loves me because I have the answer to everything. I am her t'internet. Except I'm not. Mr Kay does not know everything... Recently I got a new mobile. The choosing of the phone was 75% Maria's, 25% mine. She knows what I want, she knows what is sexy. But, she didn't know exactly what I really wanted. What I wanted was not an MP3 player that also calls people. I wanted a phone that meant that when she asks me a question, and I don't know the answer, under the table I can Google the answer. Then she would adore me. I would have the answer to all her questions. My life is devoted to being her "number-one-go-to-guy", and if that means cheating - I'm the guy to do it!!!

There is a chain of restaurants called "Outback", it is themed as Australian. We love the place. They give you a malt loaf to chew on while you read the menu (although, if you ever eat in an Outback with Maria, heaven help you! The knife they give you to slice the loaf is sharp and it never leaves Maria's hand!). We have a "bloomin' onion". I have a "big-boy" Foster's. And then I have a big-fuck-off steak!

The last time we were there, we had one of those conversations. Maria asked me if I could remember the name of a singer, she's a country singer, she posed on the cover of Vanity Fair, she was being shaved by someone, she's a lesbian. I failed. But our waitress didn't!

Last night we went again (to celebrate my b'day). We had spent a certain amount of time searching for a Barnes & Noble (because a very nice person had presented me with a gift certificate) and failed miserably. The meal was wonderful, the discussion was fantastic, and as we left we asked the "seater" if she knew where there was a Barnes & Noble. She told us! Drew us a map. Wrote out directions. It was only as we were getting into the car that we realised that the "seater" and the waitress (from our last visit) were, one in the same person.

Maybe I shouldn't have worried about my mobile, about Google. Maybe we should just eat at the same restaurant all the time!

*actually, as dull as it sounds "trying to impress women", I have found that some women are impressed with the amount of information I have stored. I can carry on conversations, seem fairly intelligent, can express an opinion. Of course, the bestest thing is that, 'cos I know a little of everything, my opinion can be swayed. And there is nothing more impressive than a man who appears to be an intellect, and yet concedes the ground to a well thought out argument. Damn, let's hope Maria doesn't read this!

**as I was typing this post up, Maria was surfing the t'internet. Oh, no! She suddenly exclaimed. It appears that the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) is seriously considering never publishing a paper edition again! Wow, am I cutting edge or what? (I heard that person who said "or what"!)

no-one gets out of here alive

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh-huh.

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

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

I have got to stop this!

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

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

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

Except for this one question. It was really embarrassing.

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

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

The question was...

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

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

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

I'm cool. Just dodged a bullet.

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.]

and not a knotted hanky in sight

Monday morning I opened an email from my mum.

Lovely to hear your voice yesterday, especially as only Denham and I were  in the dining room at the time.  I stayed until 6.30 and then had to de-ice the windscreen, but managed to get home O.K. to awake this a.m. to about 6" of snow and it hasn't stopped since.  Great big flakes have made a wonderful landscape outside - a scene I haven't seen in years, and I can only be pleased that it is a bank holiday and I, for one, don't have to be out in it.  Thought you might like to know what you are missing!!

So we went to the beach! The sun was shining, it was a hot day but there was a cool breeze blowing. We got across the border in record time and drove to the Mission Beach area. There, we went to one of the parks (if you've ever seen Traffic it is the park where Catherine Zeta Jones is threatened). Rather comforting was the fact that there were a couple of policemen taking their lunch break under the shade of a tree - so we didn't have to worry about the kids being kidnapped!

At first Danny was all teenage-ry, refusing to join in as Nikos ran around the beach, digging holes in the sand, building sand castles, and throwing stones at the sea. He even had the energy to chase a group of coots (not sure if they are coots - they are what my dad called coots when we were on the Norfolk Broads but that would make them fresh water fowl?).

However, as the time stretched out, socks and shoes came off and Danny joined in with the fun. Trousers were rolled up and paddling was partaken of - (is that the way to say it? who knows?)

Anyhoo, a jolly good time was had by one and all. All pictures will biggerise if clicked on , if you are desperate, here's a short video of Danny and Nikos paddling in the sea on Easter Monday Download paddling.AVI !

down time

Dateline: Easter Sunday.

Last night we had the most awful food. I would like to blame someone else, anyone else, but it was all my fault. For some reason "scallops wrapped in bacon" sounded luvverly - and the picture on the box looked nice as well. Normally, after spending a certain amount of time in the toilet (with multiple visits) I can feel happy - it is caused by "lactose covered frozen things" or ice-cream (as most people call it). But it tasted horrible, it smelt horrible, and it made me ill. The long and the short of all this was, we ended up loosing two hours of real life and so, to regain it, we didn't go to bed until after 2am.

It is Danny's birthday today and Maria had to pick the kids up at 10am. At 8am I got that worrying thought, what if the clocks went forward today? This isn't as daft as you might think. Five miles away in the good ol' US of A, the clocks went forward two weeks ago. Of course I couldn't just lie in bed worrying, I had to get up to check. Once the computer was switched on I noticed several comments on my blog and an email from my mum. I didn't go back to sleep.

The kids phoned at 9:20am, why hadn't they been picked up? Well, mainly because we were on Tijuana time not Mexico City time (which is two hours ahead), where they had been for the last week. Maria picked them up, happy birthday was sung, presents unwrapped, and Danny chose to watch the Bourne trilogy - now she is 13 she can watch them unsupervised! I phoned my mum - she was at my brother's house, celebrating Easter.

As Maria and Danny settled in front of the tele it was up to me to keep Nikos entertained. Thank the t'internet for lego.com. We built cities, we spent time as firemen, we hunted dinosaurs. As Nikos built, fought fire, exterminated, I surfed the t'internet on my laptop. Posted several times on expat-blog.com, read blogs and commented, followed Santos as they drew with Pumas.

It is now 6:45m. Nikos is now in front of the tele watching Alvin and the Chipmunks, Danny is at the computer updating her myspace page, Maria is cooking, and I am posting.

It all counts as downtime.

humour - it's a funny thing

There is a moment in The Shield when Dutch loses a police laptop that he was using to research child porn on. When it turns up there is a certain amount of teasing that goes on in the station. I don't know if you watch The Shield but Dutch gets some of the best lines. His reply to the joshing he receives is simply:

Not funny now - funny later.

It became a sort of catchphrase in our flat and is occasionally dug out when one of us finds something amusing and the other doesn't - I get my head stuck in a saucepan, Maria rolls about laughing, I spend time walking into doors. [In passing, does anyone ever really get their head stuck in a saucepan? In my childhood, doctor's surgeries in comics always seemed to be full of kids with saucepans on their heads. This made a large enough impression on me that I have never stuck a saucepan on my head. Maybe that is how governments should get kids to say no to drugs. Fill comics with pictures of doctor's surgeries full of kids with saucepans on their heads and doctors shaking their heads, tutting and pointing out the danger of drugs. Drugs would look one hell of a lot uncooler then!]

Anyhoo, if there was on incident in our lives that was always going to be: "Not funny now - not funny later", it was the car crash incident. That was the single worse night of our relationship. There was no way that we could ever imagine that night would be funny. But it struck me, at the beginning of W*dnesd*y night, that eventually, most things in life become funny. [I say most things because it is obvious that some things never become funny, as was pointed out to me the other day: hemorroids are only funny to the people who haven't got them].

Maria has already written about the events of W*dnesd*y night and I have briefly mentioned it in a post already. A quick re-cap for those of you who have already forgotten/can't be arsed to go back and check: an ex-lover of Maria's was in town and wanted to meet up. He got very drunk. It didn't go well. I didn't hit him. We dropped him off at his hotel. Maria owed me bigtime - I didn't hit him!

As I sat in the car in, it has to be said, a fairly good mood considering that I had just been introduced to one (one? you mean that there might be more out there?) of Maria's exs, Maria and her ex-lover (yes, I am going to bang on about this fact for most of the post!) played catch up. They spoke in Spanish, Maria translating odd bits of the ex-lover's stories but I know enough Spanish, and I know the stories, that Maria's tales went untranslated. However, Maria started to tell a story that I recognised - or I thought I did - it was the story of the night of the car crash. However, after about ten minutes I realised that I must be wrong or at least confused. The ex-lover was laughing away like a madman (oh, why wasn't that a danger sign?) but strangely Maria was also giggling along. I looked at Maria with a raised eyebrow. Yes, she confirmed, she was talking about the.worst.night.ever. and yes, she was laughing and joking her way through it all.

Not funny then - funny later I thought.

The night was a disaster. Well, it was a disaster for the ex-lover (he really needs to think carefully and try to read a copy of: How to Win Back Girlfriends and Impress Them) and a source of upset and embarrassment for Maria. For me it was mainly irritating and annoying, but that was just the living through it. By Thursday morning it had just become an event in the rich tapestry of my life (wow, there are moments I sound like a wanker). Sometime, Thursday afternoon, when Maria was apologising for the seven hundreth and thirty sixth (or was it seventh) time, I mentioned that she really should stop apologising because the event was funny. She looked at me:

Not funny now - funny never.

At the end of the evening we attempted to leave the restaurant - actually, we didn't attempt, we left quite successfully, we just didn't get out the door with the ex-lover in tow. The meal had not gone well. He had ordered several tequilas, had messed up paying the bill, had hit me twice, had managed to announce (for the second time) how much in love he was with Maria  but failed to announce it while I was in the restroom (the  second time), annoyed most of the other patrons, upset the staff. We announced we were leaving and set off outside. We sat in the car for five minutes while the ex-lover tried to buy another tequila, was refused service and then finally ejected from the premises. Fortunately he slept on the short drive to the hotel.

When we got to the hotel Maria decided to forego the parking ritual and pulled up at the front door, we both leapt out of the car, round to the back passenger door, opened it and waited for the ex-lover to get/fall out of the car. He didn't. He couldn't. He couldn't undo his seatbelt. At that moment there were two grown people desperate to get this man (ex-lover) out of their car but neither of them wanted to actually lean into the car and undo his seatbelt - Maria was worried that he would assault her, I was worried I would assault him. We stood there, stepping forward, stepping back, neither of us willing to commit to getting the bastard out of the car. Eventually we simultaneously agreed that, much as we loved the car, it wasn't that important to us. We would just leave the car there, with the ex-lover inside, and walk home. Unfortunately the hotel staff weren't too happy with this. By now there were three of them demanding that we move the car. We couldn't move the car with the ex-lover in it, we replied. Then get him out, they demanded. We don't want to, we whined. GET HIM OUT, they demanded. I stepped up to the car, reached over the ex-lover, pressed the red button, the seatbelt flew up, he fell out. As he staggered to his feet we both hugged him in a definitely-no-contact-there hug. Informed the hotel staff that he was their problem, got in the car, and burnt rubber getting out of the car park.

I told this story to Maria on Thursday afternoon. She joined in with the telling. As she told her bits, the bits she was thinking, she smiled. By the end of the story we were both laughing. You see:

Not funny now - funny later.

[Oh, in case I didn't mention it, this bloke was an ex-lover but, you know me, I'm not the sort of person who would hold that against anyone.]