Yes, it's been ages since I've blogged! No, I don't have an excuse!
I'm going to sneak an announcement in here so that I don't have to do a whole separate blog about it - my plans to return to Spain are all on hold. I'm not going back in January. There are a lot of reasons, which I won't go into here, but the upshot is I'm staying put for the time being. So that's that done - on to the proper blog post.
Having the loan of a car again thanks to Cathy and Sid's little jaunt to the Orient, I finally managed to organise a few days away. I'd been meaning to get together with Hannah for ages - I met her in Spain in February 2008 and we'd then become really good mates in Madrid. She came back to the UK in October 2009 and we hadn't seen each other since. So the delights of the M25 and M40 delivered me (thanks to Cathy's Sat Nav and Sid's dinky little Citroen) to Madeley, to a little village in Staffordshire where Hannah's boyfriend's parents have a house that they built from scratch 30 years ago while they lived in a caravan in the garden with a newborn baby (Steve!)
Hannah and I spent the afternoon trying to find the ruins of a local manor house but, despite having fairly clear instructions, all we found was a muddy path, horses, a fallen tree for me to trip over and a fence which was inexplicably completely inoffensive when I grabbed it, but remarkably electrified when Hannah stuck her hand on it 10 minutes later. After a yummy dinner, the three of us struck out in the pitch dark to the local pub (local = a mile away). We'd planned to get there cross-country but having discovered quite how muddy it was, that looked like a bad idea. Instead, we walked on the pavement-less, streetlight-less road under an amazingly starry sky. I relied on night vision, Steve had a great, retro, heavy 80s torch which gave off about as much light as a glow worm, and Hannah attached her wind-up torch to her head. Between us, we managed to fend off the onslaught of oncoming traffic and made it in one piece to the pub. We duly took over the pool table (no mention will be made of the results) and the quiz machine, and sampled their finest brews. Soon it was time to take our lives in our hands and return to the house via the same dark road which had now turned into the equivalent of Brands Hatch due to the number of people now leaving the pub (why they didn't have the sense to walk there, I don't know!)
Sunday dawned and Hannah and I decided to get out from under Steve's feet by heading to a local car boot sale. Hannah invested in a pair of rather startled-looking wooden cats and two candlesticks for her fireplace. I bought fake Rolos and a packet of fig rolls (am I the only person that thinks they're the most nostalgic biscuits in the world?) Having deposited the cats at Hannah's place, we went to an Arts and Crafts Centre based at a farm - so twee that Hannah had never managed to drag Steve to it. Giving in to the hunger brought on by the car boot sale, I dived into a very tasty bowl of pumpkin and apple soup (it was Hallowe'en after all). We wandered round the farm part, oohed and aahed over tiny chicks, huge pigs, cute ponies and slightly smelly goats. Hannah cooed over the shop's Christmas decorations. I commented on the fact that it was "still bloody October!" We headed back to the house, took the dog on rather muddy walk then drove across town in a proper workman's white van to collect a table and chairs Hannah had bought for their conservatory. The area we picked it up from was clearly going for Hallowe'en in a big way - most of the houses were decked out with glowing pumpkins, cobwebs, skeletons and were expecting a deluge of scarily-clad children (and probably adults). Having delivered the furniture to its new home, we headed back for a scrumptious roast dinner before Steve went off for an evening's table tennis. That left Hannah and me to drink our way through the evening, generally putting the world to rights and catching up with nearly a year's random chat. An early night beckoned as they both had to get up for work the next morning and obviously I had to leave when they did.
It was a very chilled weekend in a lovely part of the country and it was definitely worth the wait to catch up with Hannah.
Enough? Thought so! The rest of the trip is for the next blog...
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Back to the land of the employed
Finally, I have a job!!! I've been back in the UK for just over two months, and I just realised that this is the longest I've gone without working since I was 18.
When I first returned, I had no reason to look for a job. I was only meant to be back for a few weeks to sort out the flat, and then head back to Madrid. But that was not to be, as most of you already know. So having made the decision to stay in the UK until the end of the year, I had to face the fact that money really doesn't grow on trees and I'd actually have to earn some!
The obvious answer, as many people said, would have been to cut short my career break and go back to Gatwick for a few months. However, there were a few issues with that idea:
1) If I'd gone back until December and then tried to recommence my career break, I'm quite sure they'd have said no and I'd have had to resign there and then.
2) Having been away for over a year, it's very unlikely that I'd have been able to go back to my previous office, leaving the possibility that I'd have to go back to the main airport terminal, doing the frontline job that I've not done since 2002. I'd be facing refresher training and then the prospect of working at an office which I already know has zero staff satisfaction and with a small number of people I swore I would never work with (again).
3) Transport - when I had a car, getting to and from Gatwick was easy. On public transport, I'd be faced with heading out of the flat some days around 5.45am for the walk to the station, then the delights of the train trip to the airport to be ready to start by 7am.
4) The bottom line - it would be a backward step. When I walked out of that office in February 2009, I was determined I would never go back. Realising I'd been in the Civil Service for just under 20 years was what made me go to Spain in the first place. The only reason I'm on a career break is just in case one day I get so utterly, seriously desperate for a job that I might actually bring myself to go back, briefly or otherwise. That day most certainly has not come, nor do I want it to.
So - job-hunting began in earnest at the end of July when I decided for sure I was staying put for a few months. Having never really done anything apart from the Civil Service (before the English teaching, of course) I really didn't know what on earth to look for, let alone what I was good at. I've never had to write a CV before so that was a learning curve (thanks go to Ange for her advice). I was quite sure that immigration had given me no transferable skills whatsoever, unless I wanted to go into another law-enforcement type job. However, the more I thought about it, and as various people pointed out, I'd basically spent 20 years doing a variety of administrative and customer service roles, and had at least had the chance to show I was fairly flexible (not bendy!) and up for a challenge with some of the things that job entailed.
I had a CV, now I needed a job to apply for. I'd registered with every temp agency I could think of and given a fairly wide list of criteria, yet three weeks later, I'd heard from none of them! I know there's a recession but I couldn't believe that not a single one of them had found one job that suited my stated preferences. In the last week, one of them has started to send me emails listing jobs I "may" be interested in. Bear in mind that what I asked them to look out for were jobs in secretarial/admin/typing/data entry/filing within 3 miles of Brighton. An email from them last week offered me: Weighbridge Operator, Small Dole; Quantity Surveyor, Guildford; Finnish speaking salesperson, Edinburgh! Call me fussy, but what on earth made them think I would/could do any of those?!
Next ports of call were the Friday-Ad, Evening Argus and Gumtree websites (yes, the one where I found the slightly bizarre naked admin assistant job!) There's a bewildering array of jobs out there, it appears, several of which I fired off my CV to, without getting so much as an acknowledgement, let alone an interview. Then finally, I heard back from one - a telephone market research job (no sales, which was very important to me). Last Tuesday, I had a face-to-face interview and had to do a 10-minute test call (which admittedly seemed to only prove that I could read from a pre-prepared script on screen and click the mouse a few times!), then the next morning they called to offer me the job.
No, it's not the most exciting job in the world, nor the best paid but it's a job, it's pretty flexible (choose your own shifts each week, and no weekday shift starts before 2pm!) and they offer temporary, short-term or long-term contracts. Training starts on Wednesday for two days, then work proper next week. My bank manager will be delighted!
Sunday, 29 August 2010
The amusing downside of job hunting
In my recent search for work, I've come across some interesting ads, especially on sites like Gumtree and the Friday-Ad, where ads are free.
Today was the best yet, however! On Gumtree, I found the following:
"Hello there
Im a self employed businessman looking for help. I work from home and I need a PA for general easy admin jobs, cleaning jobs, booking flights, hotels etc. Some travel will be required but only if it fits in with you.
Full time hours offered, part time too if needed. Great rates of pay, easy going environment. £80 an hour, no mistake.
Please reply for more info ."
Yes, you read that right - £80 an hour. Being a cynical, suspicious kind, all sorts of things ran through my head - cover story for drug runner? Prostitution? Money laundering? Still, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I thought "What the hell" and fired off an email for more info.
Within minutes, I had my reply, as follows:
"Hello
Before you read on I must stress to you that this is a very genuine job offer.
Im looking for a female to work with me at my place just as they would do normally but in underwear and in the nude while I work from home. The work is simple admin, bit of cleaning, general easy going jobs.
All above board, NO contact or touching, im just rich and bored and want to try something different. Will pay you daily in cash. £80 an hour. Sometimes you can come away with me when I do business and be my PA, il pay £100 an hour for that aswell as all expenses covered.
I'm looking for all kinds of females, different shapes and sizes, ages 18-50. This will be a very discreet agreement. I also must stress that this is an agreement between us both and no photos or filming will ever take place.
Please reply if interested with a recent pic and add me on MSN via this address.
Thanks for the interest."
Bloody hell! OK, so I was already suspicious but I can't say I expected quite that (despite one friend's suggestion - before I got the reply - that the guy might have a "uniform" he wanted me to wear! Good call!) My initial reaction was righteous indignation, shortly followed by tummy-ache inducing laughter, then bafflement, then the temptation to report the ad to Gumtree as inappropriate. I guess the ad itself wasn't exactly inappropriate, but it was certainly misleading (apart from the rate of pay, of course!) These rich, bored guys really exist?! Well, at least one of them does and he lives in Brighton. But really - how bored would he have to be to want me parading round the house naked?! And how desperate would I have to be for work?!
I start Monday.
Today was the best yet, however! On Gumtree, I found the following:
"Hello there
Im a self employed businessman looking for help. I work from home and I need a PA for general easy admin jobs, cleaning jobs, booking flights, hotels etc. Some travel will be required but only if it fits in with you.
Full time hours offered, part time too if needed. Great rates of pay, easy going environment. £80 an hour, no mistake.
Please reply for more info ."
Yes, you read that right - £80 an hour. Being a cynical, suspicious kind, all sorts of things ran through my head - cover story for drug runner? Prostitution? Money laundering? Still, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I thought "What the hell" and fired off an email for more info.
Within minutes, I had my reply, as follows:
"Hello
Before you read on I must stress to you that this is a very genuine job offer.
Im looking for a female to work with me at my place just as they would do normally but in underwear and in the nude while I work from home. The work is simple admin, bit of cleaning, general easy going jobs.
All above board, NO contact or touching, im just rich and bored and want to try something different. Will pay you daily in cash. £80 an hour. Sometimes you can come away with me when I do business and be my PA, il pay £100 an hour for that aswell as all expenses covered.
I'm looking for all kinds of females, different shapes and sizes, ages 18-50. This will be a very discreet agreement. I also must stress that this is an agreement between us both and no photos or filming will ever take place.
Please reply if interested with a recent pic and add me on MSN via this address.
Thanks for the interest."
Bloody hell! OK, so I was already suspicious but I can't say I expected quite that (despite one friend's suggestion - before I got the reply - that the guy might have a "uniform" he wanted me to wear! Good call!) My initial reaction was righteous indignation, shortly followed by tummy-ache inducing laughter, then bafflement, then the temptation to report the ad to Gumtree as inappropriate. I guess the ad itself wasn't exactly inappropriate, but it was certainly misleading (apart from the rate of pay, of course!) These rich, bored guys really exist?! Well, at least one of them does and he lives in Brighton. But really - how bored would he have to be to want me parading round the house naked?! And how desperate would I have to be for work?!
I start Monday.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
My plans they are a-changing
I may have to make "over-optimistic" my middle name. When I headed back to the UK at the beginning of July, I sincerely believed that 6 or 7 weeks would be enough to sort out my flat (my life?), rent it out and head back to Madrid.
When I got back to my flat, I realised that I may have been wearing rose-tinted nostalgia glasses. My poor flat revealed itself in all its shabbiness. I'd been away 16 months, with only a couple of brief trips back, both of which were filled with stuff that didn't really allow me to stand back and take a good look at my (or rather the mortgage company's) little piece of Brighton.
This time was different. Andy, and his belongings, were gone, leaving me to see the somewhat dilapidated truth. My flat was tired, a little sad looking and full of, well, tat!
A visit from a local rental agent brought it home with a bang. He seemed optimistic that I'd be able to rent it out pretty quickly provided a few things were dealt with. And then began the list:
New living room carpet (yes, I can't disagree with him there)
Replace cracked sash window panes (at least he didn't suggest replacing the entire windows and sash mechanisms)
Fire door to the kitchen (to comply with Health and Safety regulations)
Decent Chubb lock to my front door.
Replacement locks on all windows (not essential but certainly recommended)
On top of that, I'd already discovered that these days, in order to rent a property out and eliminate the risk of being sued by a tenant, landlords have to have certain checks done:
Gas safety certificate for boiler and gas hob (£35)
Energy efficiency certificate (£32)
Electrical safety certificate - check of all sockets and any electrical items to be left in the flat (£150!!)
All soft furnishings have to have the label showing that they're fire retardant still attached. Sofa - check. Mattress - yup. Futon mattress - nope. Throw cushions - a couple, yes, the rest, no. Plus the various bits of painting that I already knew I needed to do.
By the time I'd found all this out, there was only about five weeks left til my supposed return to Madrid and I was faced with this daunting list and not enough time or money to do it.
Cue slight panic followed by total rethink! In order to do everything necessary to the flat, I need money. Having pretty much gone through all the cash I brought back from Spain (which amounted to a paltry £400), the proceeds of two car boot sales and even spent (in advance) my payments for some CDs/DVDs that I've sent off to a company that buys them, as well as some audio typing work I've done, I don't have anywhere near enough to cover the costs of sorting the flat out.
So I had to bite the bullet and accept that I'll have to hang on here long enough to get a job, earn enough to do the work on the flat, and have enough to cover rent/deposit in Madrid.
The upshot is - I'm staying right here until early January. Being more inclined to boil my head in oil than return to the Civil Service (despite only being on a career break), I'm now job hunting. I've registered with temp agencies and am scanning Gumtree, the Friday-Ad and anywhere else I can think of for four months' earning potential. If anyone knows of a job going in central Brighton, let me know!!
When I got back to my flat, I realised that I may have been wearing rose-tinted nostalgia glasses. My poor flat revealed itself in all its shabbiness. I'd been away 16 months, with only a couple of brief trips back, both of which were filled with stuff that didn't really allow me to stand back and take a good look at my (or rather the mortgage company's) little piece of Brighton.
This time was different. Andy, and his belongings, were gone, leaving me to see the somewhat dilapidated truth. My flat was tired, a little sad looking and full of, well, tat!
A visit from a local rental agent brought it home with a bang. He seemed optimistic that I'd be able to rent it out pretty quickly provided a few things were dealt with. And then began the list:
New living room carpet (yes, I can't disagree with him there)
Replace cracked sash window panes (at least he didn't suggest replacing the entire windows and sash mechanisms)
Fire door to the kitchen (to comply with Health and Safety regulations)
Decent Chubb lock to my front door.
Replacement locks on all windows (not essential but certainly recommended)
On top of that, I'd already discovered that these days, in order to rent a property out and eliminate the risk of being sued by a tenant, landlords have to have certain checks done:
Gas safety certificate for boiler and gas hob (£35)
Energy efficiency certificate (£32)
Electrical safety certificate - check of all sockets and any electrical items to be left in the flat (£150!!)
All soft furnishings have to have the label showing that they're fire retardant still attached. Sofa - check. Mattress - yup. Futon mattress - nope. Throw cushions - a couple, yes, the rest, no. Plus the various bits of painting that I already knew I needed to do.
By the time I'd found all this out, there was only about five weeks left til my supposed return to Madrid and I was faced with this daunting list and not enough time or money to do it.
Cue slight panic followed by total rethink! In order to do everything necessary to the flat, I need money. Having pretty much gone through all the cash I brought back from Spain (which amounted to a paltry £400), the proceeds of two car boot sales and even spent (in advance) my payments for some CDs/DVDs that I've sent off to a company that buys them, as well as some audio typing work I've done, I don't have anywhere near enough to cover the costs of sorting the flat out.
So I had to bite the bullet and accept that I'll have to hang on here long enough to get a job, earn enough to do the work on the flat, and have enough to cover rent/deposit in Madrid.
The upshot is - I'm staying right here until early January. Being more inclined to boil my head in oil than return to the Civil Service (despite only being on a career break), I'm now job hunting. I've registered with temp agencies and am scanning Gumtree, the Friday-Ad and anywhere else I can think of for four months' earning potential. If anyone knows of a job going in central Brighton, let me know!!
Saturday, 31 July 2010
The things people want!
While I've been sorting out my flat, I've been trying to get myself some karma points by Freecycling some things. In the process, I've been trawling through the Brighton and Hove Freecycle sites, looking at the "Wanted" ads, to see if I can help out. I've got rid of a few bits but I've been constantly entertained by the weird and wondeful things some people actually look for on there, or their reasons for wanting them. For example:
Super King Size bed: Due to bad backs and too many pets we are looking of a super king size bed and mattress. (I'm still trying to work out that reasoning!)
Women Clothing: Any size 20 good. clean women clothing. (May want to work on the punctuation there)
Shelves, Car Seatbelts and a Chest of Drawers (OK, 1 and 3 I can understand, but 2?)
Ironing Desk (er yes, what the hell is that?)
Cement mixer (ah, now I'm sure I've got one lying around somewhere)
Archery equipment (damn, another hobby that didn't pan out, eh?)
Chicken poo (I really don't know what to say)
Bidet (this one was an offer - wonder how long it'll take them to find someone who wants something other people have washed their arse in!)
Piano - in tune or not as we only want it for photos (not sure if they want to put photos on it, or take photos of it!)
The one that made me laugh the most:
OFFER: 2 Freeview boxes: Two with remotes on offer. The Grundig works. The Humax is about 2 years old and I can't work it as I am a girl.
PS - Yay, I just noticed this is my 100th blog.
Super King Size bed: Due to bad backs and too many pets we are looking of a super king size bed and mattress. (I'm still trying to work out that reasoning!)
Women Clothing: Any size 20 good. clean women clothing. (May want to work on the punctuation there)
Shelves, Car Seatbelts and a Chest of Drawers (OK, 1 and 3 I can understand, but 2?)
Ironing Desk (er yes, what the hell is that?)
Cement mixer (ah, now I'm sure I've got one lying around somewhere)
Archery equipment (damn, another hobby that didn't pan out, eh?)
Chicken poo (I really don't know what to say)
Bidet (this one was an offer - wonder how long it'll take them to find someone who wants something other people have washed their arse in!)
Piano - in tune or not as we only want it for photos (not sure if they want to put photos on it, or take photos of it!)
The one that made me laugh the most:
OFFER: 2 Freeview boxes: Two with remotes on offer. The Grundig works. The Humax is about 2 years old and I can't work it as I am a girl.
PS - Yay, I just noticed this is my 100th blog.
Monday, 26 July 2010
Isn't sport meant to be good for you?
My attempt to get at least some exercise while I'm back in the UK, and to get back into much-missed racquet sports, got off to a reasonably good start on Friday evening.
Cathy had told me about a casual, drop-in tennis club so I thought I'd give that a try. As a warm-up, I decided to walk to the club - 40 minutes, mostly uphill. So I was knackered when I got there! They were very welcoming and I was thrown on court immediately as there were actually only two of us there at the advertised start time. I knocked up for half an hour with Richard, who I think was quite gentle with me as I told him I hadn't played for almost 18 months! More people turned up and we started the doubles matches. We were randomly paired up over the next two hours, I played with or against almost everyone there. Won our first match 6-2, then lost 3-6 and 4-6. Could have been a lot worse! It's a very sociable club so at the end I spent half an hour in the clubhouse with a much-needed beer before embarking on the long walk home. Other than my usual "wet rag" impression, and having a face the colour of someone who's about to have a heart attack, I didn't feel too bad. Then it all caught up with me. On Saturday and Sunday, everything ached! My calf muscles felt like someone was sticking knives in them and my shoulders were making alarming grinding noises. Still, I felt better for actually having done something!
By Monday, I'd just about stopped aching - so I went to a local badminton club! Again, they were a nice bunch though I think their website statement that they're mixed ability might have been a bit misleading. Some of them were VERY good! Still, I was pleased to find that despite not having played for 18 months, I could still actually play. All was going well - won the first match 21-15 then, like at the tennis, the groups mixed up. In the next match I spun/dived for an evil backhand smash from our opponents and felt (and heard) a rather nasty tearing sound from my right knee. OUCH! (Won the bloody point though!) Not wanting to wuss out, I carried on as the game was nearly over anyway and two points later it was over - we lost - and I hobbled off to see what the damage was. I was a bit concerned when I found that it hurt to bend it, straighten it or turn it! One of the others gave me some ibuprofen rub for it so I sat out for a game then decided there was only one way to find out if I should worry about it a bit more. So I played one more game (which we lost) - it stood up (no pun intended) to the challenge reasonably well, though I couldn't run backwards on it and I was very reluctant to twist. It seemed like a bad idea to risk it any further so, with 40 minutes still to go, I made my excuses and left.
This may be too much information but ... it was bloody hot in the hall so yet again, I could have wrung out everything I was wearing (clearly my DNA missed the class about "women don't sweat"!). However, I hadn't planned on using the changing room showers so I had no towel. Oh well, I thought! After my quick (cold) shower - gotta love private girls' schools - I attempted to dry off using my soggy sports gear! Memories of my school changing rooms came flooding back as I realised that it's actually impossible to get dry in them, towel or not. And to add a final insult to (actual) injury, I discovered that whilst I'd remembered to pack a change of clothes, I'd forgotten one rather vital item. To put it bluntly, I had to go commando for the walk home!!!
Anyway, my right knee just about survived the walk home although by the time I got into the flat, it was complaining, and I also found a strange dent in my left hamstring!
So - exercise. Good or bad for you? You decide.
Cathy had told me about a casual, drop-in tennis club so I thought I'd give that a try. As a warm-up, I decided to walk to the club - 40 minutes, mostly uphill. So I was knackered when I got there! They were very welcoming and I was thrown on court immediately as there were actually only two of us there at the advertised start time. I knocked up for half an hour with Richard, who I think was quite gentle with me as I told him I hadn't played for almost 18 months! More people turned up and we started the doubles matches. We were randomly paired up over the next two hours, I played with or against almost everyone there. Won our first match 6-2, then lost 3-6 and 4-6. Could have been a lot worse! It's a very sociable club so at the end I spent half an hour in the clubhouse with a much-needed beer before embarking on the long walk home. Other than my usual "wet rag" impression, and having a face the colour of someone who's about to have a heart attack, I didn't feel too bad. Then it all caught up with me. On Saturday and Sunday, everything ached! My calf muscles felt like someone was sticking knives in them and my shoulders were making alarming grinding noises. Still, I felt better for actually having done something!
By Monday, I'd just about stopped aching - so I went to a local badminton club! Again, they were a nice bunch though I think their website statement that they're mixed ability might have been a bit misleading. Some of them were VERY good! Still, I was pleased to find that despite not having played for 18 months, I could still actually play. All was going well - won the first match 21-15 then, like at the tennis, the groups mixed up. In the next match I spun/dived for an evil backhand smash from our opponents and felt (and heard) a rather nasty tearing sound from my right knee. OUCH! (Won the bloody point though!) Not wanting to wuss out, I carried on as the game was nearly over anyway and two points later it was over - we lost - and I hobbled off to see what the damage was. I was a bit concerned when I found that it hurt to bend it, straighten it or turn it! One of the others gave me some ibuprofen rub for it so I sat out for a game then decided there was only one way to find out if I should worry about it a bit more. So I played one more game (which we lost) - it stood up (no pun intended) to the challenge reasonably well, though I couldn't run backwards on it and I was very reluctant to twist. It seemed like a bad idea to risk it any further so, with 40 minutes still to go, I made my excuses and left.
This may be too much information but ... it was bloody hot in the hall so yet again, I could have wrung out everything I was wearing (clearly my DNA missed the class about "women don't sweat"!). However, I hadn't planned on using the changing room showers so I had no towel. Oh well, I thought! After my quick (cold) shower - gotta love private girls' schools - I attempted to dry off using my soggy sports gear! Memories of my school changing rooms came flooding back as I realised that it's actually impossible to get dry in them, towel or not. And to add a final insult to (actual) injury, I discovered that whilst I'd remembered to pack a change of clothes, I'd forgotten one rather vital item. To put it bluntly, I had to go commando for the walk home!!!
Anyway, my right knee just about survived the walk home although by the time I got into the flat, it was complaining, and I also found a strange dent in my left hamstring!
So - exercise. Good or bad for you? You decide.
Friday, 23 July 2010
Back in Brighton
Soooooooooo, I'm back in Brighton for the summer! It's been an interesting couple of weeks so far. There's so much to do in the flat before I head back to Madrid that I think my head's going to explode! I've got To Do lists galore and they're going VERY slowly. OK, scratch that. I'M going very slowly!
No excuses. I've just been very guilty of faffing about on the net, Facebook and watching trashy TV. There's just so much to do that I don't really know where to start.
I have to sort through basically everything I own, decide what's to keep (and store somewhere), what's going to the car boot sale next weekend, what I can recycle/charity shop etc. In nearly 10 years at this flat I've accumulated way too much stuff and I'm not that good at being brutal when getting rid of things.
But - in the last couple of days I've made some headway finally. I've organised a meeting with a letting agent, and have details of another. I've arranged to have the smashed mirrored wardrobe door replaced (a mirror I smashed over 8 years ago!). I've contacted my stepsister to pick her brains about renting the place out in case there are alternatives to paying the extortionate fees for an agent.
I've been lucky enough to be loaned a car three times since I got back (thanks to Cathy and Sid) so I've been able to zoom about between the flat and the storage lock-up where some of my stuff is. I'll be borrowing car(s) again for most of August so I should be able to get out and about to see people who live in other parts of the country, when I'm not clearing, cleaning and doing odd bits of DIY (probably very odd bit, knowing me).
The one thing I haven't even started on is trying to find a foster/adoptive home for the cat. Mainly because I can't actually imagine putting her in the catbox and taking her to live somewhere else. It's HEARTBREAKING!
I've caught up with Cathy, Sid, Andy, my mum, my dad and stepmum, been to two terribly quaint fetes, played tennis, stuffed my face with Oregano's pizza, come second in a pub quiz, and finally got to hear Dani perform live!
In an attempt to at least do something about my increasing jiggly bits, I've been trying to walk every day (not terribly successfully!), tonight I'm taking the plunge and going to a drop-in tennis night at a local club to embarrass myself with a group of total strangers, then on Monday I'm going to a local badminton club. Let's hope it turns out a little better than the last proper club I went to, about 12 years ago. After a few weeks, I was given a rather clear choice: stop playing like a bloke or find a different club!!! Basically, it was one of those clubs where the women wore velour tracksuits, never broke a sweat, touched up their makeup during the evening, and barely hit the shuttlecock hard enough to clear the net. Me? Run around like a demon, smash wherever possible, play to win. Apparently not "ladylike"!!! Needless to say, I accepted their kind offer and left! Fortunately, since then I've always been able to play with/against people who actually want to play! Hopefully Monday night will be good. I'm looking forward to it. But let's get the tennis night out the way first. I'm hoping they'll forgive the fact that my back issues mean I'm not able (or allowed) to serve properly.
So - if anyone a) wants to adopt/foster a very beautiful, very furry, slightly neurotic housecat, please let me know and b) would like to bombard me with messages to motivate me into getting stuff done, please do!
(Comments on the actual blogsite please!)
No excuses. I've just been very guilty of faffing about on the net, Facebook and watching trashy TV. There's just so much to do that I don't really know where to start.
I have to sort through basically everything I own, decide what's to keep (and store somewhere), what's going to the car boot sale next weekend, what I can recycle/charity shop etc. In nearly 10 years at this flat I've accumulated way too much stuff and I'm not that good at being brutal when getting rid of things.
But - in the last couple of days I've made some headway finally. I've organised a meeting with a letting agent, and have details of another. I've arranged to have the smashed mirrored wardrobe door replaced (a mirror I smashed over 8 years ago!). I've contacted my stepsister to pick her brains about renting the place out in case there are alternatives to paying the extortionate fees for an agent.
I've been lucky enough to be loaned a car three times since I got back (thanks to Cathy and Sid) so I've been able to zoom about between the flat and the storage lock-up where some of my stuff is. I'll be borrowing car(s) again for most of August so I should be able to get out and about to see people who live in other parts of the country, when I'm not clearing, cleaning and doing odd bits of DIY (probably very odd bit, knowing me).
The one thing I haven't even started on is trying to find a foster/adoptive home for the cat. Mainly because I can't actually imagine putting her in the catbox and taking her to live somewhere else. It's HEARTBREAKING!
I've caught up with Cathy, Sid, Andy, my mum, my dad and stepmum, been to two terribly quaint fetes, played tennis, stuffed my face with Oregano's pizza, come second in a pub quiz, and finally got to hear Dani perform live!
In an attempt to at least do something about my increasing jiggly bits, I've been trying to walk every day (not terribly successfully!), tonight I'm taking the plunge and going to a drop-in tennis night at a local club to embarrass myself with a group of total strangers, then on Monday I'm going to a local badminton club. Let's hope it turns out a little better than the last proper club I went to, about 12 years ago. After a few weeks, I was given a rather clear choice: stop playing like a bloke or find a different club!!! Basically, it was one of those clubs where the women wore velour tracksuits, never broke a sweat, touched up their makeup during the evening, and barely hit the shuttlecock hard enough to clear the net. Me? Run around like a demon, smash wherever possible, play to win. Apparently not "ladylike"!!! Needless to say, I accepted their kind offer and left! Fortunately, since then I've always been able to play with/against people who actually want to play! Hopefully Monday night will be good. I'm looking forward to it. But let's get the tennis night out the way first. I'm hoping they'll forgive the fact that my back issues mean I'm not able (or allowed) to serve properly.
So - if anyone a) wants to adopt/foster a very beautiful, very furry, slightly neurotic housecat, please let me know and b) would like to bombard me with messages to motivate me into getting stuff done, please do!
(Comments on the actual blogsite please!)
Sunday, 18 July 2010
Latest visits (another long blog, sorry!)
I was honoured with the presence of no less than four good friends in my last couple of months in Madrid - Cathy, Julia and Mike, and Sid. I hadn't seen any of them since at least last Christmas so it was lovely to catch up with them in my adopted hometown.
First was Cathy for four days. We had a lovely time just wandering around, with lots of food (previous blog shows just how much food!)
Then at the end of May, Julia and Mike came for a belated anniversary trip. They were staying in the centre of town so we met up a few times, went to the Retiro, El Capricho, ate at the very lovely Isla del Tesoro (still my favourite veggie restaurant) and generally just "did" Madrid! It was nice to be a tourist again even if I did also have to demonstrate that living somewhere doesn't necessarily mean you know where you're going! It was great to see them and I think (I hope!) they had fun! Annoyingly, I managed to forget to take my camera out even once, so I'm hoping Julia uploads her photos sometime soon (hint, hint!)
At the very end of June, it was Sid's turn. It didn't get off to the best start as she flew in on the same day I (semi-unexpectedly) had to move out of my flat and into a hostal, and on the third day of the chaotic Metro strike! She finally joined me at the hostal at 1.15am Wednesday night (well, Thursday morning). On Thursday, once I'd picked up my final pay of the summer, we hit the Retiro for the afternoon. Ice-cream, laughing at the rowers on the lake and sunning ourselves passed a couple of hours. We walked back to the hostal via a quick exhibition at La Caixa Forum, and La Mallorquina for afternoon tea then spent a relaxed evening in the nearby square with Julie and Natalee.
On Friday, after a brekkie at the hostal of knobby bread and cheese, we headed out to a couple of photography exhibitions (PhotoEspana 10). We wandered back to the hostal to pack for the weekend in Alcoy (for Kim,'s 50th birthday party) and then off to the airport (on the way we got on the Cercanias going the wrong way and had to jump off at the very last second, trapping poor Sid's arm in the door and causing a spectacular swelling and bruise! Sorry Sid!) Our flight was delayed a bit but we finally made it to Alicante and found our welcome committee (Kim, her son Matt, his girlfriend Silvia and Kim's friend Silvia 2). Kim's lovely friend Silvia very kindly drove us to Alcoy, Kim,'s hometown, about 45 mins inland from Alicante, dropped us off at the Savoy (yeah, OK, not the famous one!) where we changed and hit the main square to meet the others. We'd bumped into Geraldine at the door of the hotel so the three of us went to meet Alex and Marta, who had flown in from New York and Zaragoza), then were soon joined by Kim, her niece Lisa (in from Australia!), Matt and Silvia, Fay and Stuart (Kim's friends from Devon) and Jay, who we discovered was going to be the DJ at the party on Saturday night. Alcoy was much more buzzy than I'd expected and at 1am we walked to the weird and wonderful Gaudi Bar (not the name, but it's based on various Gaudi designs of houses in Barcelona). Kim got us all drinking some strange cocktail with lemon and coffee liqueur but we finally gave up the ghost at 3am and crashed.
Having discovered that the hotel dining room doesn't open at weekends, we went back to the main square for Saturday morning breakfast - tasty and cheap hot chocolate and croissants. The rest of the group were heading into the mountains for a huge slap-up lunch but Sid and I had promised ourselves a day at the beach so we went off on the 90-minute bus journey to Alicante. At first glance, the beach looked a bit like one of those "Yuk" pictures of classic Spanish tourist beaches - absolutely packed, with sunbeds lined up like rows of sardines in a tin. We were surprised to find that the majority of the people were Spanish though. We found ourselves a small patch of sand and settled in. It was damn hot so after a few minutes it was time for my first dip in the sea since September 2008! Sid wussed out, only making it in up to her knees before deciding it was too cold, but I'd been looking forward to this for months, so in I plunged for a lovely long refreshing swim. A couple of hours of sunbathing and a bite to eat, and it was time to head back to Alcoy for the party!
Having initially gone to the wrong address (not our fault!) we eventually found the party, being held at Kim's school. The party coincided with the quarter final of the World Cup, with Spain playing Paraguay, so the first couple of hours were a little quiet, with the majority of the guests inside watching the TV, but after that the party got into full swing. There was stacks of alcohol, a huge table of cold foods and then no less than 3 barbecues! Great mix of people, Spaniards and Anglos so there was plenty of chatting and laughter. Kim certainly seemed to be having a good time! But as all good things do, it came to an end and we weaved our way back to the hotel.
On Sunday, we all headed to Kim's, helped clear up the party stuff at the school, then went for a slap-up Italian meal with far too much wine, and then (at Kim's insistence!), 2 bottles of champagne. We finally had to leave when we realised the restaurant had actually closed, so we went back to Kim's just in time for me to see the final 4 points of the Wimbledon final (yay, Nadal won!), more wine before Matt kindly drove 4 of us to the airport. Great weekend!
For the next two days, Sid and I walked, ate and drank our way around Madrid. More sunbathing was required, as were a couple more photography exhibitions. Tuesday evening was my last night in Madrid so an evening in El Buscon was the predictable result. Joined by Louise, Jorge, Philip, Sian and Richi, we had a fun time. Jorge had brought his VERY expensive guitar along for me to play with. Fortunately, the music in the bar was loud enough to drown out my picking and warbling but I was certainly impressed with the guitar. Now he just needs to learn to play it!
Before we knew it, Wednesday arrived and after one final morning sunning ourselves on the rather steep slope of grass under the suicide bridge (!) we had to face the packing! I was convinced there was no way it was all going to fit in but finally, after a lot of sitting on suitcases, it was all in and we made the trip to the airport on the Metro. Dragging all that luggage in 36 degrees was interesting! I'm very grateful for the fact that the Easyjet staff at Madrid are a bit more relaxed than they are at Gatwick - luggage allowance each was 20kg. My case weighed 23kg and Sid's (which mostly contained my stuff!) was 24.5kg! Ouch. At €16 per kilo excess luggage, my heart (and my credit card) skipped a beat, but the check-in guy didn't bat an eyelid and we waved goodbye to our cases.
And that was that! We finally took off and my first full year and a bit in Madrid was over - 7 weeks in the UK to come!
So thanks to all my visitors for entertaining me over my last couple of months there.
Pics of Sid's trip and a few of the party are HERE
First was Cathy for four days. We had a lovely time just wandering around, with lots of food (previous blog shows just how much food!)
Then at the end of May, Julia and Mike came for a belated anniversary trip. They were staying in the centre of town so we met up a few times, went to the Retiro, El Capricho, ate at the very lovely Isla del Tesoro (still my favourite veggie restaurant) and generally just "did" Madrid! It was nice to be a tourist again even if I did also have to demonstrate that living somewhere doesn't necessarily mean you know where you're going! It was great to see them and I think (I hope!) they had fun! Annoyingly, I managed to forget to take my camera out even once, so I'm hoping Julia uploads her photos sometime soon (hint, hint!)
At the very end of June, it was Sid's turn. It didn't get off to the best start as she flew in on the same day I (semi-unexpectedly) had to move out of my flat and into a hostal, and on the third day of the chaotic Metro strike! She finally joined me at the hostal at 1.15am Wednesday night (well, Thursday morning). On Thursday, once I'd picked up my final pay of the summer, we hit the Retiro for the afternoon. Ice-cream, laughing at the rowers on the lake and sunning ourselves passed a couple of hours. We walked back to the hostal via a quick exhibition at La Caixa Forum, and La Mallorquina for afternoon tea then spent a relaxed evening in the nearby square with Julie and Natalee.
On Friday, after a brekkie at the hostal of knobby bread and cheese, we headed out to a couple of photography exhibitions (PhotoEspana 10). We wandered back to the hostal to pack for the weekend in Alcoy (for Kim,'s 50th birthday party) and then off to the airport (on the way we got on the Cercanias going the wrong way and had to jump off at the very last second, trapping poor Sid's arm in the door and causing a spectacular swelling and bruise! Sorry Sid!) Our flight was delayed a bit but we finally made it to Alicante and found our welcome committee (Kim, her son Matt, his girlfriend Silvia and Kim's friend Silvia 2). Kim's lovely friend Silvia very kindly drove us to Alcoy, Kim,'s hometown, about 45 mins inland from Alicante, dropped us off at the Savoy (yeah, OK, not the famous one!) where we changed and hit the main square to meet the others. We'd bumped into Geraldine at the door of the hotel so the three of us went to meet Alex and Marta, who had flown in from New York and Zaragoza), then were soon joined by Kim, her niece Lisa (in from Australia!), Matt and Silvia, Fay and Stuart (Kim's friends from Devon) and Jay, who we discovered was going to be the DJ at the party on Saturday night. Alcoy was much more buzzy than I'd expected and at 1am we walked to the weird and wonderful Gaudi Bar (not the name, but it's based on various Gaudi designs of houses in Barcelona). Kim got us all drinking some strange cocktail with lemon and coffee liqueur but we finally gave up the ghost at 3am and crashed.
Having discovered that the hotel dining room doesn't open at weekends, we went back to the main square for Saturday morning breakfast - tasty and cheap hot chocolate and croissants. The rest of the group were heading into the mountains for a huge slap-up lunch but Sid and I had promised ourselves a day at the beach so we went off on the 90-minute bus journey to Alicante. At first glance, the beach looked a bit like one of those "Yuk" pictures of classic Spanish tourist beaches - absolutely packed, with sunbeds lined up like rows of sardines in a tin. We were surprised to find that the majority of the people were Spanish though. We found ourselves a small patch of sand and settled in. It was damn hot so after a few minutes it was time for my first dip in the sea since September 2008! Sid wussed out, only making it in up to her knees before deciding it was too cold, but I'd been looking forward to this for months, so in I plunged for a lovely long refreshing swim. A couple of hours of sunbathing and a bite to eat, and it was time to head back to Alcoy for the party!
Having initially gone to the wrong address (not our fault!) we eventually found the party, being held at Kim's school. The party coincided with the quarter final of the World Cup, with Spain playing Paraguay, so the first couple of hours were a little quiet, with the majority of the guests inside watching the TV, but after that the party got into full swing. There was stacks of alcohol, a huge table of cold foods and then no less than 3 barbecues! Great mix of people, Spaniards and Anglos so there was plenty of chatting and laughter. Kim certainly seemed to be having a good time! But as all good things do, it came to an end and we weaved our way back to the hotel.
On Sunday, we all headed to Kim's, helped clear up the party stuff at the school, then went for a slap-up Italian meal with far too much wine, and then (at Kim's insistence!), 2 bottles of champagne. We finally had to leave when we realised the restaurant had actually closed, so we went back to Kim's just in time for me to see the final 4 points of the Wimbledon final (yay, Nadal won!), more wine before Matt kindly drove 4 of us to the airport. Great weekend!
For the next two days, Sid and I walked, ate and drank our way around Madrid. More sunbathing was required, as were a couple more photography exhibitions. Tuesday evening was my last night in Madrid so an evening in El Buscon was the predictable result. Joined by Louise, Jorge, Philip, Sian and Richi, we had a fun time. Jorge had brought his VERY expensive guitar along for me to play with. Fortunately, the music in the bar was loud enough to drown out my picking and warbling but I was certainly impressed with the guitar. Now he just needs to learn to play it!
Before we knew it, Wednesday arrived and after one final morning sunning ourselves on the rather steep slope of grass under the suicide bridge (!) we had to face the packing! I was convinced there was no way it was all going to fit in but finally, after a lot of sitting on suitcases, it was all in and we made the trip to the airport on the Metro. Dragging all that luggage in 36 degrees was interesting! I'm very grateful for the fact that the Easyjet staff at Madrid are a bit more relaxed than they are at Gatwick - luggage allowance each was 20kg. My case weighed 23kg and Sid's (which mostly contained my stuff!) was 24.5kg! Ouch. At €16 per kilo excess luggage, my heart (and my credit card) skipped a beat, but the check-in guy didn't bat an eyelid and we waved goodbye to our cases.
And that was that! We finally took off and my first full year and a bit in Madrid was over - 7 weeks in the UK to come!
So thanks to all my visitors for entertaining me over my last couple of months there.
Pics of Sid's trip and a few of the party are HERE
Monday, 12 July 2010
Things wot I learnt in Spain
In my first year and a bit in Spain, I've learnt a lot. Admittedly, I've probably forgotten a lot of it, but here's a list of some of the weird/wonderful/bizarre/pointless things I've picked up. Feel free to add to them in the Comments section if, like me, you've been lucky enough to live in Spain for a bit.
1) Guys christened José are frequently called Pepe. It took a while to find out why but I finally discovered that it comes from the fact that José is the Spanish version of Joseph. Joseph was, allegedly, the father of Jesus. "Alleged father" in Spanish is "padre putativo", which begins which 2 Ps. P, in Spanish, is pronounced like "Pay", so put 2 Ps together and you get "Pay-pay" or Pepe!
2) In Spain, you start with 12 points on your driving licence. If you do something wrong, you have points taken away, until you reach zero, and then you're banned.
3) The north coast of Spain has a climate very similar to that in the UK.
4) Pretty much all Spanish (women's) shoes have high heels, even the sandals.
5) In Spain, jamon (ham) in not considered to be meat.
6) The festival of Corpus Christi, despite being a clearly religious celebration, last year in Toledo consisted solely of a military parade lasting about 2 minutes, for which rather a lot of people lined up for a good 3 or 4 hours.
7) Whether they're 2 people or 10 people, the Spanish will somehow find a way to block the entire pavement, making it impossible to get past without risking life and limb by stepping into the road.
8) I can buy Heinz Baked Beans in the local supermarket, but buying a half-decent potato for baking to go with them is much more difficult.
9) Re number 8 - cheddar cheese is purchasable, at vast cost!
10) Carrots are so hard I've broken 2 vegetable knives cutting them, but potatoes are so soft you almost don't need to cook them!
11) Una caña - a standard draft beer, can range in size from a thimble to about 1/3 of a litre, depending on where you order it. And "un doble" doesn't appear to be "double" anything!
12) The sidreria near Sol, off C/del Carmen, makes fantastic sangria, containing six or seven different alcohols, then a tiny splash of lemonade.
13) The famous statue in Sol, which has recently been moved back to its original location, is either a bear and a cherry tree or a bear and a strawberry tree, depending on the source of your information. "El Oso y el Madroño" translates to both online, though Madroño appears to be "arbutus" which should be "strawberry tree".
14) When you fill in your annual tax return in Spain, you can note a tick-box to show that you want a small percentage of your taxes to be donated to either NGOs (unspecified) or to the Catholic Church, or to neither (so it all goes to the government). Every Spaniard I've asked so far has said they choose either NGOs or no-one.
15) The word for Sir is "señor", for Madam it's "señora", for Miss it's "señorita". However, for Master, you might expect "señorito". No. Señorito is apparently a somewhat disparaging old term for a rich man who owned a lot of land.
16) Mosquitoes don't necessarily wait until summer to start munching.
17) "No two without three" - the translation of a Spanish saying, suggesting that if something happens twice, it is likely to happen a third time. It's not quite the same as our "bad things come in threes" because it refers to all events, good or bad.
18) Felix Rodriguez de la Fuente - Spain's equivalent of David Attenborough. Also known as El Hombre de la Tierra (Man of the Earth). He made lots of nature programs in the 1970s but in the early 80s was killed in a helicopter crash while working.
19) A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that I had the brownest forearms of anyone on the Metro! A rare occurrence.
20) Every single day of the year is a Saint's Day, sometimes more than one saint.
21) The 25th of May is Saint Emma's Day!
22) Public holidays can be moved to a more convenient day if the actual day falls on a Sunday, though they don't have to be moved at all. One of my students said they're like the "jokers" in a pack of cards, or the "wild card".
23) Most people I speak to here can't believe that we don't have ID cards in the UK, nor can they understand the opposition to them. They're surprised that we don't have a single document that we're legally obliged to carry round with us to prove our ID in case we're stopped by the police. I guess since the new government scrapped them, it'll be a shorter answer from me when I'm asked about them.
24) It may be expensive electricity-wise, but when I come back, I'm getting a flat with air conditioning!
25) Giving English classes in cafés doesn't really work. I tried it a couple of times but the noise is too much and the students are usually rather self-conscious. While sitting in a café on my own I watched a guy give a class across the room and it clearly wasn't successful. I won't be doing it again.
26) I still can't get used to the Spanish newspapers referring to the queen as "Reina Isabel II". The first time I saw it I thought, "How funny, they got her name wrong", forgetting that all names in the public eye are translated to the Spanish version. Isabel = Elizabeth. Weird.
27) Metro strikes are a real pain! Legally, the Metro staff are obliged to offer a 50% service even during industrial action, but at the end of last month, they called a 2-day all-out strike. Chaos!
28) Staying up drinking/partying all night, then going for brekkie and heading home about 10am is pretty normal. Not for me. Too damn old for that!
29) South facing balconies are the best!
30) You really can't get halloumi!!!!
1) Guys christened José are frequently called Pepe. It took a while to find out why but I finally discovered that it comes from the fact that José is the Spanish version of Joseph. Joseph was, allegedly, the father of Jesus. "Alleged father" in Spanish is "padre putativo", which begins which 2 Ps. P, in Spanish, is pronounced like "Pay", so put 2 Ps together and you get "Pay-pay" or Pepe!
2) In Spain, you start with 12 points on your driving licence. If you do something wrong, you have points taken away, until you reach zero, and then you're banned.
3) The north coast of Spain has a climate very similar to that in the UK.
4) Pretty much all Spanish (women's) shoes have high heels, even the sandals.
5) In Spain, jamon (ham) in not considered to be meat.
6) The festival of Corpus Christi, despite being a clearly religious celebration, last year in Toledo consisted solely of a military parade lasting about 2 minutes, for which rather a lot of people lined up for a good 3 or 4 hours.
7) Whether they're 2 people or 10 people, the Spanish will somehow find a way to block the entire pavement, making it impossible to get past without risking life and limb by stepping into the road.
8) I can buy Heinz Baked Beans in the local supermarket, but buying a half-decent potato for baking to go with them is much more difficult.
9) Re number 8 - cheddar cheese is purchasable, at vast cost!
10) Carrots are so hard I've broken 2 vegetable knives cutting them, but potatoes are so soft you almost don't need to cook them!
11) Una caña - a standard draft beer, can range in size from a thimble to about 1/3 of a litre, depending on where you order it. And "un doble" doesn't appear to be "double" anything!
12) The sidreria near Sol, off C/del Carmen, makes fantastic sangria, containing six or seven different alcohols, then a tiny splash of lemonade.
13) The famous statue in Sol, which has recently been moved back to its original location, is either a bear and a cherry tree or a bear and a strawberry tree, depending on the source of your information. "El Oso y el Madroño" translates to both online, though Madroño appears to be "arbutus" which should be "strawberry tree".
14) When you fill in your annual tax return in Spain, you can note a tick-box to show that you want a small percentage of your taxes to be donated to either NGOs (unspecified) or to the Catholic Church, or to neither (so it all goes to the government). Every Spaniard I've asked so far has said they choose either NGOs or no-one.
15) The word for Sir is "señor", for Madam it's "señora", for Miss it's "señorita". However, for Master, you might expect "señorito". No. Señorito is apparently a somewhat disparaging old term for a rich man who owned a lot of land.
16) Mosquitoes don't necessarily wait until summer to start munching.
17) "No two without three" - the translation of a Spanish saying, suggesting that if something happens twice, it is likely to happen a third time. It's not quite the same as our "bad things come in threes" because it refers to all events, good or bad.
18) Felix Rodriguez de la Fuente - Spain's equivalent of David Attenborough. Also known as El Hombre de la Tierra (Man of the Earth). He made lots of nature programs in the 1970s but in the early 80s was killed in a helicopter crash while working.
19) A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that I had the brownest forearms of anyone on the Metro! A rare occurrence.
20) Every single day of the year is a Saint's Day, sometimes more than one saint.
21) The 25th of May is Saint Emma's Day!
22) Public holidays can be moved to a more convenient day if the actual day falls on a Sunday, though they don't have to be moved at all. One of my students said they're like the "jokers" in a pack of cards, or the "wild card".
23) Most people I speak to here can't believe that we don't have ID cards in the UK, nor can they understand the opposition to them. They're surprised that we don't have a single document that we're legally obliged to carry round with us to prove our ID in case we're stopped by the police. I guess since the new government scrapped them, it'll be a shorter answer from me when I'm asked about them.
24) It may be expensive electricity-wise, but when I come back, I'm getting a flat with air conditioning!
25) Giving English classes in cafés doesn't really work. I tried it a couple of times but the noise is too much and the students are usually rather self-conscious. While sitting in a café on my own I watched a guy give a class across the room and it clearly wasn't successful. I won't be doing it again.
26) I still can't get used to the Spanish newspapers referring to the queen as "Reina Isabel II". The first time I saw it I thought, "How funny, they got her name wrong", forgetting that all names in the public eye are translated to the Spanish version. Isabel = Elizabeth. Weird.
27) Metro strikes are a real pain! Legally, the Metro staff are obliged to offer a 50% service even during industrial action, but at the end of last month, they called a 2-day all-out strike. Chaos!
28) Staying up drinking/partying all night, then going for brekkie and heading home about 10am is pretty normal. Not for me. Too damn old for that!
29) South facing balconies are the best!
30) You really can't get halloumi!!!!
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
Well, that was fun...
What an utterly bizarre cock-up of an afternoon!
Disappointingly, after only one set of Nadal's first round match at Wimbledon, I had to leave to go to teach. Off I went into the blazing sun, onto the AC-free Metro, off the Metro one stop before my student's class because the line is shut. Walked for 20 minutes to her building, pressed the buzzer, waited, waited a bit longer, buzzed again. Finally, a voice said "Si?" "It's Emma" I said, cheerfully. Silence. "Oh. I. Um. I. Er..." Entryphone went dead, leaving me standing in the street burning my bonce! Then my mobile rang. It was my student, who said "I thought I told you I had to cancel class today". And yes, she had. Last week. When I didn't have my diary with me, so when I got home last week, I wrote it in the wrong week and showed next week's class as cancelled. Crap! Oh well, head home to catch maybe the end of the Nadal match, I thought.
Over to the bus stop with me for the nice, quiet, air-conditioned number 21 which comes every 6 or 7 minutes. Or not. 20 minutes later, it finally turned up. On I got, and plonked myself at the back for the short ride. At the next stop, I thought maybe I'd entered some kind of alternative dimension. Waiting at the stop, for my bus, was a huge group of pensioners along with their, um, supervisors? Helpers? Guards? Whatever! There were 55 of them (yes, I counted) - 45 excited (drunk?) and very chatty "people of the third age" and 10 nuns! On they piled, taking as long to get on as my entire journey should have taken. It was hot and loud and very squashed. When I could see my stop coming up, I rang the bell and struggled valiantly to get out of my seat and to the exit. To absolutely no avail. There was no getting past this sea of age and wisdom. The bus stopped for about 2 seconds then drove off again.
I managed to escape the bus hell at the next stop which turned out to be much closer to Metro Alonso Martinez, than to Bilbao where I'd wanted to get off. Fine. I'll get the Metro there, change lines and get home!
So I descended the 4 escalators to the steaming depths of Line 10 where another AC-free Metro whisked me to Plaza de Castilla where just one more change would have me in sight of the flat. Or not. Again. This time, an inexplicable problem (OK, that should be incomprehensible cos I didn't understand half the tannoy announcement) meant no Line 1. So back up to the roasting hot street with me to walk home.
By now, it was nearly 2 hours since I'd left the flat, I hadn't taught, hadn't earnt any money and I was hot, tired and fed up. With one result - a HUGE bag of fries from the nearest fast food place (something I haven't done in many, many years!)
Yes, no-one but myself to blame for screwing up the date of the cancellation but even so, sense of humour failure was threatening.
Disappointingly, after only one set of Nadal's first round match at Wimbledon, I had to leave to go to teach. Off I went into the blazing sun, onto the AC-free Metro, off the Metro one stop before my student's class because the line is shut. Walked for 20 minutes to her building, pressed the buzzer, waited, waited a bit longer, buzzed again. Finally, a voice said "Si?" "It's Emma" I said, cheerfully. Silence. "Oh. I. Um. I. Er..." Entryphone went dead, leaving me standing in the street burning my bonce! Then my mobile rang. It was my student, who said "I thought I told you I had to cancel class today". And yes, she had. Last week. When I didn't have my diary with me, so when I got home last week, I wrote it in the wrong week and showed next week's class as cancelled. Crap! Oh well, head home to catch maybe the end of the Nadal match, I thought.
Over to the bus stop with me for the nice, quiet, air-conditioned number 21 which comes every 6 or 7 minutes. Or not. 20 minutes later, it finally turned up. On I got, and plonked myself at the back for the short ride. At the next stop, I thought maybe I'd entered some kind of alternative dimension. Waiting at the stop, for my bus, was a huge group of pensioners along with their, um, supervisors? Helpers? Guards? Whatever! There were 55 of them (yes, I counted) - 45 excited (drunk?) and very chatty "people of the third age" and 10 nuns! On they piled, taking as long to get on as my entire journey should have taken. It was hot and loud and very squashed. When I could see my stop coming up, I rang the bell and struggled valiantly to get out of my seat and to the exit. To absolutely no avail. There was no getting past this sea of age and wisdom. The bus stopped for about 2 seconds then drove off again.
I managed to escape the bus hell at the next stop which turned out to be much closer to Metro Alonso Martinez, than to Bilbao where I'd wanted to get off. Fine. I'll get the Metro there, change lines and get home!
So I descended the 4 escalators to the steaming depths of Line 10 where another AC-free Metro whisked me to Plaza de Castilla where just one more change would have me in sight of the flat. Or not. Again. This time, an inexplicable problem (OK, that should be incomprehensible cos I didn't understand half the tannoy announcement) meant no Line 1. So back up to the roasting hot street with me to walk home.
By now, it was nearly 2 hours since I'd left the flat, I hadn't taught, hadn't earnt any money and I was hot, tired and fed up. With one result - a HUGE bag of fries from the nearest fast food place (something I haven't done in many, many years!)
Yes, no-one but myself to blame for screwing up the date of the cancellation but even so, sense of humour failure was threatening.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)