We're having a Sports Day at my school soon. Each form had to come up with a team and students to volunteer for different events. There's this one girl, who is an angry young woman, constantly in trouble, but I've put her down for shot put as others claimed she was really good at it.
This morning she came to school after a few days of absence, and I broke the news to her.
"Ain't doing that!" she said "You can't flipping make me!"
An expected reaction, granted, but I wasn't going to give up easily.
"Oh come on, it's just one small event and I hear you're really good at it. Come on, please?"
I have to say, I did expect this to be met with another rude outburst of anger. Instead I heard: "All right then miss. I'll do it."
I still think I must have been dreaming!
This does not, of course, mean that she'll actually show up on the day though...
PS. Later update: She didn't.
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Monday, 28 June 2010
On tea
Last night, as I was struggling to fall asleep, I have come to realise an astonishing truth: ever since I moved to the UK, I've been drinking a lot less tea than before.
Ok, fine, I have one cup of proper tea with milk a day (or something like that), which is me adopting local habits, but I used to have 2-3 cups of green tea a day before and what happened to that?
Well, school happened to that.
Need to buy a kettle and put it in my cupboard.
Green tea is good for you.
Ok, fine, I have one cup of proper tea with milk a day (or something like that), which is me adopting local habits, but I used to have 2-3 cups of green tea a day before and what happened to that?
Well, school happened to that.
Need to buy a kettle and put it in my cupboard.
Green tea is good for you.
Sunday, 27 June 2010
On wonders
We went to see Stevie Wonder in the Hyde Park yesterday and my God was it great!
The man is absolutely beautiful - the joy in his face as he plays the music would be enough for ten people or more.
Made me seriously happy.
What a brilliant day.
The man is absolutely beautiful - the joy in his face as he plays the music would be enough for ten people or more.
Made me seriously happy.
What a brilliant day.
Sunday, 6 June 2010
57 miles
Up to 4 miles, cycling is no fun. It's only after that distance that your muscles are properly warmed up and you start enjoying it as opposed to just wanting to go home and feel sorry for yourself. I know that, so I don't get discouraged and I apply all my energy to warming my muscles up.
After that, up to ca. 20 miles, it's seriously fun, sun is shining, interesting birds are flying, all hills are ascendable and it's so cool to ride down them!
Past 20 miles it's time for a small rest, a stretch, a sandwich, and off we go again, all positive and happy, cause it is such a beautiful day and I'm going to beat my distance record and all.
At around 25 miles, it is however starting to become harder, the muscles feel tired and on steeper inclines I start to struggle - or so it feels, as I always end up getting both me and Bob the bike to the top. .
At 30 miles I'm properly tired. I'm starting to speculate whether I actually do have to do those 50 miles or if I could just go home now. But soon I want to continue, cause look, I've beaten my record and I'm still cycling! Besides soon we'll make a proper stop and have a good rest, it will be fine.
A couple of miles later, all I can think of is a pub or a shop where we could refill our bottles hence forcing the stop, cause God it hurts when it's uphill!
And after that stop it is all better, I'm still tired but I think that if we can stop when needed, I'll be fine. I'm just slightly worried: Paul has to pull my gloves off for me, as my fingers are no longer prehensile.
45th mile: I get off my bike, sit down and cry. 'I can't do it, it is too hard' I sob pathetically blowing my nose into the surrounding foliage.
Paul takes me litterally and suggests we find me a nice place to wait and he'll go and get the car, as nothing is worth such misery.
It takes me a while to make him understand that I was just letting off pressure and that I'm fine, really, and I really meant 'I'm finding this very difficult, I need some encouragement, but I'll still do it'.
'Well, that's not what you said' says Paul and I think he is a little bit annoyed that I'm speaking female at him and expect him to understand.
But anyway - we get back on our bikes and get safely home, 57 miles on the counter all together. We shower and put the barbacue on. We have a couple of beers. My legs aren't even hurting really (though the fingers in my left hand still refuse to cooperate) and I feel extremely proud of myself.
After that, up to ca. 20 miles, it's seriously fun, sun is shining, interesting birds are flying, all hills are ascendable and it's so cool to ride down them!
Past 20 miles it's time for a small rest, a stretch, a sandwich, and off we go again, all positive and happy, cause it is such a beautiful day and I'm going to beat my distance record and all.
At around 25 miles, it is however starting to become harder, the muscles feel tired and on steeper inclines I start to struggle - or so it feels, as I always end up getting both me and Bob the bike to the top. .
At 30 miles I'm properly tired. I'm starting to speculate whether I actually do have to do those 50 miles or if I could just go home now. But soon I want to continue, cause look, I've beaten my record and I'm still cycling! Besides soon we'll make a proper stop and have a good rest, it will be fine.
A couple of miles later, all I can think of is a pub or a shop where we could refill our bottles hence forcing the stop, cause God it hurts when it's uphill!
And after that stop it is all better, I'm still tired but I think that if we can stop when needed, I'll be fine. I'm just slightly worried: Paul has to pull my gloves off for me, as my fingers are no longer prehensile.
45th mile: I get off my bike, sit down and cry. 'I can't do it, it is too hard' I sob pathetically blowing my nose into the surrounding foliage.
Paul takes me litterally and suggests we find me a nice place to wait and he'll go and get the car, as nothing is worth such misery.
It takes me a while to make him understand that I was just letting off pressure and that I'm fine, really, and I really meant 'I'm finding this very difficult, I need some encouragement, but I'll still do it'.
'Well, that's not what you said' says Paul and I think he is a little bit annoyed that I'm speaking female at him and expect him to understand.
But anyway - we get back on our bikes and get safely home, 57 miles on the counter all together. We shower and put the barbacue on. We have a couple of beers. My legs aren't even hurting really (though the fingers in my left hand still refuse to cooperate) and I feel extremely proud of myself.
Sunday, 30 May 2010
On stag dos
I’m not sure if I understand the idea of stag/hen weekends away. I mean, in some cases it is obvious – go away where no one knows you in order to get laid one more time with a total stranger before you make your vow of fidelity and, at least in theory, have to give up that kind of behaviours forever (but then why take your friends with you – after all one of them could say something to someone on another drunken night and your other half could still find out).
Anyway, that reason being out of the question, what’s the point?
Paul’s just been on one in Munich and what they did was: drink beer, go go-carting, play football in the park, drink some more beer. All of which they could have done over here without paying an arm and a leg for flights and hotels. I would have understood if they had done one thing that was actually about Munich – but they didn’t! Unless you count drinking beer, that is...
Two years ago another friend of his was getting married and they went to Amsterdam, which made sense as the point was for the said friend to get stoned braindead as he loves to get stoned so Amsterdam was the place to go and he couldn’t have done that over here. But this one?
Don’t get me wrong – when/if it comes to my hen do, I would love to go away somewhere with my friends. But I would see something of the place on top of merry making...
Anyway, that reason being out of the question, what’s the point?
Paul’s just been on one in Munich and what they did was: drink beer, go go-carting, play football in the park, drink some more beer. All of which they could have done over here without paying an arm and a leg for flights and hotels. I would have understood if they had done one thing that was actually about Munich – but they didn’t! Unless you count drinking beer, that is...
Two years ago another friend of his was getting married and they went to Amsterdam, which made sense as the point was for the said friend to get stoned braindead as he loves to get stoned so Amsterdam was the place to go and he couldn’t have done that over here. But this one?
Don’t get me wrong – when/if it comes to my hen do, I would love to go away somewhere with my friends. But I would see something of the place on top of merry making...
Saturday, 29 May 2010
On hairdresser therapy
I went to the hairdresser's today, a treat after a long half-term and other turmoils, and I felt that some hair needed to come off.
My hairdresser, Sarah, is this nice lady from South Africa, who seems to remember all I tell her about me through the months in between my visits, which is a quality every good hairdresser should have as frankly, getting a new haircut is only one of the reasons we go there.
She washed my hair, which is one of the reasons I go to the hairdressers - I love having my hair washed by someone else, it's like the best massage ever, soothing and relaxing, and then my hair started to come off and we started to talk. First some small talk about work, fatigue, planned holidays, her son's schooling etc. Then we got interrupted by some idiot from my bank who had to speak to me urgently - no doubt wanting me to upgrade my account, which I have no desire of doing. Once I got rid of that woman, Sarah and I decided that commercial calls were annoying and pointless, because we know very well that there are other options out there and if we are unhappy with our current provider of whatever service, we will look into alternatives, we are not retarded.
As Sarah was putting the finishing touches into my now short hair, she said her husband (who is the one handling service providers in her household) gets seriously with such phone calls but always forgets about it immediately. 'I would be grumpy for a while' she added philosophically 'but he isn’t. I guess it's just that men are better at getting over things quickly, while we will go on turning them over and over in hour heads. They're better at compartmentalising stuff and moving on.'
And she quite possibly saved my relationship there and then.
My hairdresser, Sarah, is this nice lady from South Africa, who seems to remember all I tell her about me through the months in between my visits, which is a quality every good hairdresser should have as frankly, getting a new haircut is only one of the reasons we go there.
She washed my hair, which is one of the reasons I go to the hairdressers - I love having my hair washed by someone else, it's like the best massage ever, soothing and relaxing, and then my hair started to come off and we started to talk. First some small talk about work, fatigue, planned holidays, her son's schooling etc. Then we got interrupted by some idiot from my bank who had to speak to me urgently - no doubt wanting me to upgrade my account, which I have no desire of doing. Once I got rid of that woman, Sarah and I decided that commercial calls were annoying and pointless, because we know very well that there are other options out there and if we are unhappy with our current provider of whatever service, we will look into alternatives, we are not retarded.
As Sarah was putting the finishing touches into my now short hair, she said her husband (who is the one handling service providers in her household) gets seriously with such phone calls but always forgets about it immediately. 'I would be grumpy for a while' she added philosophically 'but he isn’t. I guess it's just that men are better at getting over things quickly, while we will go on turning them over and over in hour heads. They're better at compartmentalising stuff and moving on.'
And she quite possibly saved my relationship there and then.
Tuesday, 25 May 2010
On local sensitivity
One thing that strikes a foreigner moving over here is how quickly you are on the first name basis with people, whether the situation be social or professional. In other countries there is a more or less official ceremony where the elder (in whatever way – age, status, job, anything) suggests to the other party involved to move on to less formal terms, in some cases followed by both of them sealing the new pact by drinking high percentage alcohol in various doses.
Nothing of the kind here, your boss is ‘Peter’ immediately, your partners’ parents, the mailman, your elderly neighbours, anyone. Of course, we all know it before we come here, we’ve learnt it and about it in our English lessons.
Where we’re lost, is that this apparent informality and friendliness finishes there and then exactly. You can call your boss ‘Peter’ but you won’t ask him about his family (you’re still required to answer politely when he asks you about yours, but you should limit yourself to meaninglessly acquiescing them being fine). You call your superior “Catherine” but beware how you ask her for help – the appropriate way is to say in an emotionless voice ‘I could use your support on this’, accept being brushed off and wait patiently until some time is allocated to you. Even if in the meantime a student is reducing you to tears every time they enter your classroom and clearly enjoying it very much, saying ‘I’m sorry to be pushy, but I really need something done about this’ is rude.
Mainly, whatever happens, be it in social or professional situation, any kind of reaction other than smiling and pretending that it is all right is not acceptable. You have to be nice to everyone, regardless of whether or not they are nice to you. (Actually, the locals seem to have a way of not being nice to you that is not considered rude by the bystanders – you’re hurt, but no one else sees the problem. Unfortunately, as I haven’t mastered that art yet, when I retaliate, I’m inevitably rude...)
In conclusion, it seems that I might need to leave my personality and my opinions at home as having them does not seem to be socially acceptable. Plus, I don’t think it is a good idea for me to drink around other people – I inevitably say something that I have managed to repress while sober and I end up having to apologise for hurting people's sensitivity by my inacceptable behaviour. And I grow angrier each time...
Nothing of the kind here, your boss is ‘Peter’ immediately, your partners’ parents, the mailman, your elderly neighbours, anyone. Of course, we all know it before we come here, we’ve learnt it and about it in our English lessons.
Where we’re lost, is that this apparent informality and friendliness finishes there and then exactly. You can call your boss ‘Peter’ but you won’t ask him about his family (you’re still required to answer politely when he asks you about yours, but you should limit yourself to meaninglessly acquiescing them being fine). You call your superior “Catherine” but beware how you ask her for help – the appropriate way is to say in an emotionless voice ‘I could use your support on this’, accept being brushed off and wait patiently until some time is allocated to you. Even if in the meantime a student is reducing you to tears every time they enter your classroom and clearly enjoying it very much, saying ‘I’m sorry to be pushy, but I really need something done about this’ is rude.
Mainly, whatever happens, be it in social or professional situation, any kind of reaction other than smiling and pretending that it is all right is not acceptable. You have to be nice to everyone, regardless of whether or not they are nice to you. (Actually, the locals seem to have a way of not being nice to you that is not considered rude by the bystanders – you’re hurt, but no one else sees the problem. Unfortunately, as I haven’t mastered that art yet, when I retaliate, I’m inevitably rude...)
In conclusion, it seems that I might need to leave my personality and my opinions at home as having them does not seem to be socially acceptable. Plus, I don’t think it is a good idea for me to drink around other people – I inevitably say something that I have managed to repress while sober and I end up having to apologise for hurting people's sensitivity by my inacceptable behaviour. And I grow angrier each time...
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