We had found this brilliant bungalow, perfect in every way, even with all inclusive rent and without agency fees - a miracle organised by the Head's PA from my new school.
Before we went off on different holidays, we had written the contract and sent it to our future landlord who was supposed to sign it and send it back.
He didn't, but we didn't worry much as had been travelling too.
We called him on our way back from the Lakes and arranged the contract signing and moving in for Saturday at 12.
We arrived to the house on Saturday at 12. No sign of the bloke.
After 15 minutes, we tried his mobile - not available.
After 30 minutes it changed to switched off.
After 45 minutes Paul called a friend who checked his e-mail for him - nothing.
After 65 minutes we gave up and left.
We sent the bloke and e-mail asking to contact us a.s.a.p. No reply.
Paul called him again, it rang and then it went busy. Twice.
I called him, he answered the phone and hung up on me immediately.
So I guess that's it. I'll have to chase that lovely picture of sitting on that porch with a glass of wine out of my head.
But.
We're supposed to be picking up Paul's sister's furniture and my stuff on Saturday, but we have nowhere to move it to.
I'm starting work on Friday. If we're still here, it will mean setting off every day at 6.40 so that Paul can drop me off before going to work himself.
The chances of us not being here anymore are very slim.
I don't know where my school clothes are. Quite possibly still in Birmingham.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
Wednesday, 12 August 2009
Shooting stars…
…are dead cool. There’s nothing like lying on the grass staring at the sky even if your bum gets slightly cold. Peace, people.
Wednesday, 22 July 2009
On not being adapted to living on this planet
I realise that I haven’t been posting as much lately but to be honest, there wasn’t much to post about. Unless I would keep posting about being disillusioned with the system and drained into numbness.
And now the school’s over. I should be jubilant. When I think back at how I felt most of the time, I can’t help thinking that the main thing I should feel is relief.
It isn’t.
I’ve spent last three days just crying uncontrollably and being angry about it, cause look, my life is great, there’s lots of good stuff happening and lots of good stuff to look forward to, but I can’t help it.
I think it’s because I’m just so exhausted and I have been sucking it up for such a long time.
And because whatever I might have been saying and however horrid these kids have been to me most of the time, I did get attached to them, I did get somewhere with some of them, and some of them really did care for me too. I had a proof of that last few days when I was inundated in cards, flowers, presents and hugs.
And because yes, the upcoming changes are good, but they are also scary. In any case – I’m off to France now, where there are people who know me with a big supply of wine and tissues. And I’ll drink, talk, cry and relax and hopefully eventually I’ll stop crying at last.
And now the school’s over. I should be jubilant. When I think back at how I felt most of the time, I can’t help thinking that the main thing I should feel is relief.
It isn’t.
I’ve spent last three days just crying uncontrollably and being angry about it, cause look, my life is great, there’s lots of good stuff happening and lots of good stuff to look forward to, but I can’t help it.
I think it’s because I’m just so exhausted and I have been sucking it up for such a long time.
And because whatever I might have been saying and however horrid these kids have been to me most of the time, I did get attached to them, I did get somewhere with some of them, and some of them really did care for me too. I had a proof of that last few days when I was inundated in cards, flowers, presents and hugs.
And because yes, the upcoming changes are good, but they are also scary. In any case – I’m off to France now, where there are people who know me with a big supply of wine and tissues. And I’ll drink, talk, cry and relax and hopefully eventually I’ll stop crying at last.
Friday, 10 July 2009
Miiiiss! Tiiiiits!
Give a year 10 students, recently promoted to year 11 by a controversial decision to start the new school year early, a cultural book called “Germany Live” with a task to carry out using it. Most of them will open it to keep up the appearances, and immediately relax into a conversation. One or two of them will diligently set about to do what they were told to. One of them will start flicking through the book and suddenly cry out: “Miiiiss! Tiiits! Guys, look at page 34, there’s a naked broad! Miss, look at page 34!”
All of the male students will immediately revive and find page 34. Some of them will join in with “Miss, tits, no really, look at page 34, there’s a naked broad”.
“I know what breasts look like dear” I’ll say and reluctantly open the book on page 34. Sure enough there is a picture of people on a beach and one woman indeed is topless.
Follows a lengthy discussion about nudist beaches in Germany and Poland and my acquaintance with such beaches, at the end of which one of them states a firm decision to go to Germany.
“There is a slight problem” I say. “You’d need to actually speak some German.”
“Oh no, miss. I’d just wink and say ‘bedroom’.”
“Well, do you know how to say ‘bedroom’ in German?”
Ah, the educational side effects of naked women in secondary school textbooks…
All of the male students will immediately revive and find page 34. Some of them will join in with “Miss, tits, no really, look at page 34, there’s a naked broad”.
“I know what breasts look like dear” I’ll say and reluctantly open the book on page 34. Sure enough there is a picture of people on a beach and one woman indeed is topless.
Follows a lengthy discussion about nudist beaches in Germany and Poland and my acquaintance with such beaches, at the end of which one of them states a firm decision to go to Germany.
“There is a slight problem” I say. “You’d need to actually speak some German.”
“Oh no, miss. I’d just wink and say ‘bedroom’.”
“Well, do you know how to say ‘bedroom’ in German?”
Ah, the educational side effects of naked women in secondary school textbooks…
Monday, 29 June 2009
On playing God
On Thursday night Paul came up from MK and we went to the Yardbird for a gig. We were standing outside, sipping at our drinks and enjoying the music, the weather was warm – bliss. Just what I needed to forget all the other shit and remember how it feels to just feel plain happy.
At one point, I spotted a guy walking hastily towards the club. He got there and sat at a table where a woman sat with two drinks, waiting for him. As he was sitting down, he took his I-pod out of his pocket and a business card flew out onto the pavement. He didn’t notice.
The natural reaction would have been to pick it up and hand it to him, but I was in the middle of a conversation that I didn’t want to lose anything of.
A little later, I looked back and the business card was still on the ground. I hesitated – at this point, it would have been much less natural to pick it up and hand it to him. Besides, after all it was just a business card, which could not be of importance if he’d put it rather carelessly into his back pocket. But what if it was important? What if, for instance, the details on it was of a person who could change his life? Absorbed as he was in his conversation with the woman, he wasn’t going to check his pocket for it. So if I didn’t say anything, his life could have changed forever. For a brief moment, his destiny was in my hands…
I did pick it up and give it to him. He thanked me but barely acknowledged the card, just shoved it back into his pocket. So maybe it wasn’t important after all. Or maybe the woman sitting in front of him was more important than the person whose details where on the card.
At one point, I spotted a guy walking hastily towards the club. He got there and sat at a table where a woman sat with two drinks, waiting for him. As he was sitting down, he took his I-pod out of his pocket and a business card flew out onto the pavement. He didn’t notice.
The natural reaction would have been to pick it up and hand it to him, but I was in the middle of a conversation that I didn’t want to lose anything of.
A little later, I looked back and the business card was still on the ground. I hesitated – at this point, it would have been much less natural to pick it up and hand it to him. Besides, after all it was just a business card, which could not be of importance if he’d put it rather carelessly into his back pocket. But what if it was important? What if, for instance, the details on it was of a person who could change his life? Absorbed as he was in his conversation with the woman, he wasn’t going to check his pocket for it. So if I didn’t say anything, his life could have changed forever. For a brief moment, his destiny was in my hands…
I did pick it up and give it to him. He thanked me but barely acknowledged the card, just shoved it back into his pocket. So maybe it wasn’t important after all. Or maybe the woman sitting in front of him was more important than the person whose details where on the card.
Monday, 15 June 2009
On new arrivals
There's a Polish girl in my school who recently approached me asking for help preparing for her exams. I accepted willingly, cause God knows I needed something good, ie. to work with a kid who actually cares. But this is not good. She is hard working and puts every effort in, but her English is just not good enough. And what I don't understand is how could a child be schooled in the UK for almost two years and still not speak any English? From what I gathered, she had initially refused to learn English, a rebellions teenager angry about having to moved into a foreign country and into a school where her and her brother are constantly bullied. But how come no one ever cared enough to talk her out of it? Why nobody cared to check how long she's really been here before denying her the right to a dictionary and extra time in exams? And actually, how come kids have that right only for two years after their arrival regardless of their level of English?
She has special provision. A translator for two lessons a week. How is she supposed to cope? Why no one asked me earlier if I would be willing to help?
And, in the first place, what is the point in putting new arrivals straight into mainstream schools? I knew a girl who was put straight into year 11 and forced to take her GCSE's while all she could say in English was 'hello'.
From what I've heard, there used to be special centres for new arrivals, where they were schooled for up to a year learning English only. I wonder who decided it was a bad idea. I wonder how the current way of doing things could possibly be seen as better.
It just makes me so angry - all those kids arriving here and so absolutely failed by the education system. What are their chances to succeed? None, unless of course their parents are wealthy enough to provide them with private tutoring.
She has special provision. A translator for two lessons a week. How is she supposed to cope? Why no one asked me earlier if I would be willing to help?
And, in the first place, what is the point in putting new arrivals straight into mainstream schools? I knew a girl who was put straight into year 11 and forced to take her GCSE's while all she could say in English was 'hello'.
From what I've heard, there used to be special centres for new arrivals, where they were schooled for up to a year learning English only. I wonder who decided it was a bad idea. I wonder how the current way of doing things could possibly be seen as better.
It just makes me so angry - all those kids arriving here and so absolutely failed by the education system. What are their chances to succeed? None, unless of course their parents are wealthy enough to provide them with private tutoring.
Monday, 8 June 2009
Taking a cab
Relatively often I take a cab from work. Mostly to New Street when I'm on my way to MK. Sometimes home. There are four gates to the school, in three different roads. I always book it for the main entrance. I once booked it for gate B, when I had a meeting on that side of the school. And ever since, no matter how many times I repeat that I want it from the main entrance my cab gets inevitably sent to gate B. And the scenario's always the same - the poor cab driver calls me cause he can't see me, I can't see him either cause he's in a different parking lot, and he has to drive to where I am or I run like an idiot to where he is. Which bit of 'main gate' is so hard to understand?
And today, while waiting for my cabbie to make his way to where I was once we'd agreed that it wasn't where he'd got sent to, I called the company again and ranted about it. I mean, how many times can you do that? I expected an apology. I got: If the driver didn't listen then it's not my problem! I said: Well, it would be something like 6 different drivers by now that didn't listen. That's not very likely, is it? To which he replied: I said gate C lady, not my problem.
How nice.
And then the driver told me that the guy did not say anything at all. He sent a message through a thingy which, as clear as day, said 'M School, Gate B'.
Idiot.
Another thing: when the cab gets into my street, I invariably say: Anywhere here, on the right will be fine. And the cab driver invariably pulls in on the left.
Maybe they don't listen after all.
Regardless of the thingy.
And today, while waiting for my cabbie to make his way to where I was once we'd agreed that it wasn't where he'd got sent to, I called the company again and ranted about it. I mean, how many times can you do that? I expected an apology. I got: If the driver didn't listen then it's not my problem! I said: Well, it would be something like 6 different drivers by now that didn't listen. That's not very likely, is it? To which he replied: I said gate C lady, not my problem.
How nice.
And then the driver told me that the guy did not say anything at all. He sent a message through a thingy which, as clear as day, said 'M School, Gate B'.
Idiot.
Another thing: when the cab gets into my street, I invariably say: Anywhere here, on the right will be fine. And the cab driver invariably pulls in on the left.
Maybe they don't listen after all.
Regardless of the thingy.
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