Rediscovering the UK: Something a Bit Different in London

It's a museum and some hipster coffee shop... what the hell is different about that?

If this day had a theme it would be musty cake.

You know when at first you think, "Ooh! This is quaint!" and then end up forcing yourself to down the gallons of tea in the pot?

Toys do not just teach us about the history of the time they were made, but also our own histories. There's a strange poignancy of seeing those toys behind glass, their owners long-dead or perhaps just too old to play. But not gathering dust in some attic, the toys are given a new lease of life, as objects of fascination and nostalgia.

But can you imagine if toys could actually come alive? Holy hell.

Home!

Fin

"One week mooooooooore"

Medieval Fair

Birthday Party

St. George

Hello, Butterfly!

First of all

Jesus' smiling face is always watching.

According to the artistic impressions of the children, I have a dick nose.

First of all, I'm a massive idiot. I thought I was being really organised by registering for my postal vote two days before the deadline instead of on the actual deadline, but it turns out you need to send your application for a postal vote, by post.

I hope people vote with compassion at the forefront of this year's, and every year's vote.

 

What does it mean when you dream about the moon from Majora's Mask hurtling towards you, only to deflect it?

Did I defeat the double headed monster of self-doubt and ironing?

I've  been lithe to get angry in the past.

My Flyers group were talking about going to friends' birthday party at the weekend: 

Anyway, it made me feel a different kind of homesick.

Alfie and Annie Rose 

This

I spent 

My childhood was defined by the stories I read, as I'm sure everyone else's was.

I'd been thinking of getting the Teacher's Magazine but none of the issues really appealed to me. Until...

This issue, it talks about using The Very Hungry Caterpillar. It provides a link to an online Slideshare version of the book (the text is the same, but it using lots of Paint drawings... still, it gets the job done) and some flashcards. The flashcards have a picture of a fruit 

So I read him the story. 

The kid loves cutting out and gluing things. I cut out foam disks.

This allowed there to be some structure to the sticking, so no more running round with the glue stick getting the tables!

Yes, as always, the lesson ended with me being pelted with plastic fruit, but overall I think it was a success.

"Are you in your cocoon?"

Basically, this week gave me diabetes. 

A different kind of homesickness.

I planned a Robin Hood lesson and "We're Going on a Bear Hunt", but I'll see 

Thankfully

The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

It had some great flashcards.

Then "Pretend you are a caterpillar". I brought in a (clean) bedsheet for the "cocoon".

When the weather changes, it inspires you to try different things related to the new season.

EVEN THEIR TINY LITTLE TEETHIES ARE SO ADORABLE EVEN WHEN THEY'RE TRYING TO DESTROY YOU.

There are those 

Do I really have to earn the English countryside?

This is Ightham Mote (shown via a picture I stole from the National Trust) in Kent. It'scuriously-named. The "Mote" refers to the house, not the  700 year-old manor house, possibly named after it's status as a meeting point in Anglo Saxon times)

I went there with my grandparents and sister during Semana Santa (which, when you've crossed the Channel, becomes the plain old Easter Holidays). This is the kind of place I'm always going to associate with my grandparents. It's one of my granddad's favourite places. There's a delicateness in that.  And yes, I finally got my cream tea.

If teaching makes me go completely beserk, I don't think that working for the National Trust would be a bad choice. Doddering around, telling people information that NOBODY asked for... seems like a good life.

Other than that it was a fairly quiet break. Three social plans fell through because of travel issues, but still, I needed the rest.

I missed the green, and having the countryside on my doorstep. Having two supermarkets on my doorstep isn't the same at all. Albacete smells like Manchego cheese, and I'm not joking. There's that fresh-rain smell in Kent, that "got up early and going on holiday feeling" that you don't really get in the city.

Perhaps coming back to Albacete the day before lessons started wasn't the best idea I'd ever had. My flight was at 5.30 on Monday morning. I had to squeeze sleep in whenever I could - on the plane, and even at the train station, huddled over my suitcase like it was a nest, for three hours whilst I waited for a train

I went to a cafe and DIDN'T EVEN WANT CAKE WITH MY CHAI LATTE WHAT IS HAPPENING?!

I don't hate my job, or even dislike it. I'm doing what I want to do, and I want to be a teacher. I work for two really supportive companies and have received good feedback.

The trouble is, I'm scared to death. Still. I was actually more nervous about starting again after Semana Santa than I was about my first ever lesson. And what do you do if your job and source of income terrify you? I don't want to be popping Lexatin every five minutes to feel that I can go to work.

During Semana Santa I decided  some mighty changes -

1. Diet - I'm on a diet now. It's rich in magnesium.

2. Sleep

3. Exercise

Perhaps yoga, listening to Kate Bush and hollering like a goat. "HELLO EARTH!!!"

4. Planning and organisation - A strange blend of doing less, but actually doing more.

And how much of this came to pass? Not an awful lot. The

Oh yes, last night I went to a Tasca..

I survived my first term

Well, it's the 28th,  the first day of the Easter holidays which means one thing: I made it.

Coming home wasn't exactly the euphoric experience I imagined it being. Actually, the whole day was one big "for fuck's sake." I woke up at 8 and spent the morning doing my laundry (there was a lot). Then I had to run to the other side of the city to pay the landlady, run back again to sort out office stuff and do the printing before my pre-school lesson.One of which was the Easter activities for the lesson. The other, my boarding pass. Neither would print because for some reason I can't open my Hotmail account on any computer, which is a bugger because my laptop isn't connected to any printer.

And found myself holding it together in class when really I just wanted to scream.



Then I had to move from my window seat, but still, you know, I appreciated it while it lasted.

I hadn't seen a field in two months.

Having to take my sweaty shoes off. Getting chatted up by the cab driver and being able to pull the old "Me no hablo espanol."

Obviously I had to empty my *ahem* carefully packed case again.

Being ripped off by Subway and Starbucks.

Bernard Cornwell.

Like it's cute or something, when really it's like "I have no patience for this, douchebag."

So, how did the teaching week go? Well, I only phoned by boss in tears once ready to bottle an ESO class. Except, I didn't bottle it. The week was "Easter fun" week which I had been excited for for weeks and I wasn't going to miss it.

"What's pascua in English?"

"Shrove."

What? Awwwww.

Actually, hold up a picture of a baby animal, ask what it's called and get a variety of adorable responses:

"Ducklet?"

"Chickling?"

AWWWW IHJKJNOIJZLKA.

Then there was sick burn of the week:

Student: "Teacher, do you like the flag of Japan?"
Me: "It's alright. Why?"
Student: "It has your point."

I didn't understand

HANG ON A MINUTE YOU LITTLE -

Then of course there was the WTF moment of the week.

It's fun just to have fun with the kids.



I know when I go back the rush will start again.

Yes, I came home with the intention of not doing anything teacher-related. Then I realise that that's crap, because even though I'm home in the grey miserable cold comfort blanket that is Old Blighty I need to keep going. I've got to watch a lot of Youtube videos.

I'm reunited with the one I love: Skyrim. And you know what? I feel guilty. Every moment I'm not planning, learning Spanish or anything else is making me feel bad. Perhaps because I know that in terms of "mastering" this job, I have a very long way to go,

Nuts

This cat's not even hanging. This cat has got this.

Let's just skip awkward introductions and get down to it: one of my schools sacked me.

My mum says that when I'm a university academic at my pretentious dinner party I'll laugh about this.

"Hey guys, remember that time that Catholic nun school sacked me? Guys?"

At the moment I'm finding it hard to see the punchline. You're probably asking, why volunteer this information on the internet where future employers, hopefully from diligent-Japan, could easily Google your name and find? Isn't that irrevocably stupid? Probably, but I said, this blog is supposed to be as honest as possible and, as with all bad experiences, there was a lesson to be learned.

I'm not in the business of pretending I'm this flawless person. Trust me, I've tried, and it doesn't always work out. When we write our CVs, we try and paint ourselves as such, but who are we kidding?

And that was probably my problem, an unwavering obsession with being good. And I don't just mean being a good teacher, but a round-the-clock saint.

I couldn't stand that I'd accidentally flooded someone's bathroom, or made someone cry. And this week, I couldn't stand the continuing guilt that I couldn't return someone else's feelings.

And here is my hamartia: trying to make everything right, when sometimes you just can't. The situation is toxic, but you keep returning to it anyway. Take it from someone who once dated the same boy seven times, I never like to just admit that something isn't working out.

I could have just shut down my computer and gone to bed. But I didn't. And yes, I am so, so sorry for that. More sorry than you can imagine. Actually, you definitely can imagine.

It can seem like remedying one situation will make another one more bearable, but if that doesn't work out, and some things depend on the others, everything can just collapse like a card tower.

So I lost it. Not at school. I avoided that.

I've had

And I gave myself a three day headache.

They gave me a calm down


A sleeping pill that made me feel like I was going blind (for future reference it's called ___ and I probably wouldn't recommend taking it).





I spent the day trying to waft away the brain fog. This obviously involved cake and coffee at Roldan's. They gave me two spoons with my slice of red velvet, the jokers.

And then I did. I managed to pull some Easter flashcards out of my arse, and some activities.

I'll take up yoga, meditation, gardening... whatever it takes.




Obviously comes more guilt. I'm a burden. I'm pathetic. I fudge everything up.

Someone whose good points aren't overshadowed by haunting cloud of toxic smog.

Then I realise that that probably isn't true, and I'm grateful. Not just for the lie-in on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, but for the new challenge that this presents. I'm grateful for broken hearts and fuck-ups.

And with every rock-bottom comes the comeback.

It's like make-up sex. Without, obviously, the sex. With children, but hang on a minute, no.

Poppy is the best on hangman. I didn't feel like the best when I was trying to explain the difference between when and how often...

Seven year old students continue to strip off in my class.

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

Pay day! And what's the first thing I did? Buy Majora's Mask 3DS, of course.

And I needed it for Spanish Shopping Ordeal No.2...

Bodybell is essentially the Boots or Superdrug of Spain, and for a country that apparently whose economic climate mean a shortage of jobs, they seem to have the privilege of an excess of staff, positioned around the shop to keep an eye on you as you decide whether you want the sanitary towels with wings or not.



Bearing in mind I had already spent 18 euros in Albacete's other Bodybell shop the same day

I should have headbutted her and given her nits

The week that needs an inspirational soundtrack and teaching montage

Three weeks.

This week has really been the pusher. I'm exhausted, but I know I need to push myself as hard as I possibly can. I can burn out at the weekend.

Help out in lessons

I made someone cry

Okay, I'm shitting myself. Because, exams. And I'm still very new to this job. And exams. Exams!

The best thing about being a teacher? You can influence someone's future. The worst thing about being a teacher? You can influence someone's future. You can be the awesome inspiration, or the reason they fail their exams. And is there a country who loves their exams more than Spain? Possibly not. Seriously, these kids do exams all the bloody time.

I'm not infallible. I am human.

I can end the day pretending to be a dinosaur

The best inspirational music (it's mostly Disney, because obviously)

1. The Pokemon theme (Gotta teach 'em all)

"YOU TEACH ME AND I'LL TEACH YOUUUUUUUU!"

2. The Skyrim theme

Because I want to be Dovahteacher.

3, Try by Dolly Parton

Because I love a bit of cheese, and not just as the basis of every single meal I eat,

4.

5.


And finally...

I sometimes watch this before class. Especially if I know that class is full of screamers:

The balance

Leaving parties early to do cleaning and lesson planning is depressing.

On the plus side, my Spanish 23rd is going to be awesome. It's on a Saturday too. And not in term time. Venga.....!

Put your armour on

Despite the stress, I've met some of the nicest people here.

Like the man in the bookshop said, it's like surfing!

Complaints

I ate sausage. I sort of knew it was sausage. But I didn't care.

I'm sort of on a reverse lent.

I'm putting on weight like it's no-one's business. Not like it is anyone's business. Mind your own business.

Flashcards

The tranquilising effects of Scrabble and my first earthquake

So I might be in the video (again)

I'm now doing mock exams with my Flyers class.

I was sitting in the academy, waiting for class to start and I could hear the thump, thump, thumping of a kid running around outside. I was thinking "For f - " and then the walls shook. It took me a few seconds to realise that miniature human feet can't cause buildings to tremble when my boss came in like "Earthquake?" Apparently, it measured about 5 on the Richter Scale, but the epicentre was two far underground (and also miles away) to cause any damage. But thanks to this earthquake, I have class conversation material for the next week.

Error of judgement

Boss was impressed! Until he saw that the kids had broken the board

And if, to celebrate the end of Monday, you need a good laugh//nightmares, here's a treat:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i17NYO_2UwA

Weekend

Jumper dress

I'll admit it

The best Valentine's and the worst Pancake Day

Hot on the heels of El Dia De La Mona is Semana Blanca, which means

Cold

Midnight coffee, finally watching a sport on TV and

I lived in Wales for three years but, aside from being in Cardiff for the TEFL course during the Wales v. Scotland game last year and just grumbling from my window, I've managed to avoid the Six Nations. Until now.

St. Patrick's is an Irish themed bar. There are a few like this, Spanish owners and aperitifs but

There's a fake bookshelf of fake British classics, James Joyce and Oscar Wilde watch you from the walls. All that was missing was some haggis and the British experience would have been complete.

I'm not Irish, and I don't care about Rugby, but see a poster for Shakespeare and you're like "Hurr, Britain!"

I'll admit that living in Spain has made me patriotic in a way I never thought I could be.

Here's the thing about culture and Britishness.

It has bitter taste to it, not because of the beauty of the poet or it takes

But because I remember the rainy day I spent in Canterbury this Christmas, and having the best mince pie and best fajitas of my life in the same day. Truly beautiful memories.

Today

All the mystery

Bossy children

Talking about England - WHAT EXACTLY IS WRONG WITH MY ACCENT

Good day!

I moved!

Better

Teenagers

I had a good day!

Moving Out

Becoming a puppet master and ruining the innocent memories of children

The age-old philosophical question persists: who's hand really is up who's arse?

I may have made a student cry today

Pets. Everyone loves talking about pets, right? Today in my Flyers class we were talking about animals (as dictated by the beloved textbook). The topic was animals, and naturally, the topic of "What's your favourite animal?" came up. This exciting the children, and they happily started calling out animals like "dogs!" or "horses!" Then one of the girls at the front of the class burst into tears. It turns out that both her dog and horse just died, really close together. What luck! 

I gave her the "It hurts, but life goes on" talk (put a little less bluntly). All that was missing was me bursting into a rendition of Circle of Life with an army of animatronic animals.

Yes, we had to keep talking about animals for the whole lesson, with potentially triggering topics.

Blah 3

Blah 2

Blah

Escolapios - teaching and being overseen

English table

First Day of Teaching!

After signing a load of Spanish documents and contracts that I didn't understand, I'm now officially and legally allowed to work in Spain. Next I can stop freaking out and thinking cars are driving themselves when they approach me from the wrong side. Bit of an issue because for some reason I was down as "British Elizabeth" which sounds like the Queen's porn star name.

Not a single smile from anyone. Welcome to Spain!

Today was my first day of teaching. Though I applied for work through one academy, and thought that was where I'd stay, I actually work all around the city for two companies. During the day I worked with a small group of ten-year-olds in a school that is ACTUALLY RUN BY NUNS. The class was really well behaved. I started with my name. Basically it's a game where I write information about myself 

Then, there were the seven year olds. Oh God, the seven year olds. At first, they were all very cute and energetic and I was like "Yes! I got what I wished.Then I realised that actually 

So, yeah, today I was able to see bad classes at the polar end of the scale. Lucky me.

The first class was teenagers, therefore, not a lot of talking, slouching and not appearing from out of the knitted hat.

Basically, I felt like this guy:

Everyone wants to be that cool, chill teacher until you just think "Oh, fuck it, children" 

I don't really expect seven-year-olds.

I found a fast food place called Pizza King as I was roaming the streets for comfort food to stuff my face with. You can be I thought 

He llegado! or something

I don't think I've made a New Year's resolution in about ten years, but New Year seemed like the perfect time to pack my bags and leave the country to teach English as a foreign language. After being stuck in Wizard's perpetual festive dystopia since October (I was a Card Factory Christmas temp) a more exotic change of scenery has definitely been in order.

For the last year I've wanted to live and work in Japan, but my experience (or lack thereof) has made securing a job really difficult. So one night, about a month ago, when I was in the midst of the graduates' "Where is my life going?!?!" angst, I went nuts and near enough applied for every job on the TEFL website. Or half of them, because I eventually got tired and just decided to go to bed. But the thought was definitely there.

I was ready to take a job in China, when research into the agency showed it was full of dodgy, unscrupilous fuckers (it was Worlda, for your information). So Spain it is - Albacete, to be exact. That's not to say I don't want to be here, because I definitely do. I always toyed with the idea of having the experience of living in both Japan and another European country, and now it's just panned out that way.

Hyped by DK Eyewitness Travel: Spain as "one of Spain's Least interesting cities", travel snobs needn't worry about a swarm of tourists ruining an otherwise authentic Spanish experience - because there there's not much here they'd want want to see. That doesn't mean it's not without its attractions. The town is a renowned manufacturer jacknives and daggers - and you can't get more rock 'n' roll than that. When I typed "Albacete" into Google images, pictures of the neighbouring village, Chinchilla, came up,the city was far more metropolitan than I expected, putting me under the impression that I was going to a quaint, dusty little village, probably travelling to school by donkey, instead of the bustling, shop-filled metropolis that Albacete turned out to be. With shops open until past 8.30 pm, it's not a place to feel lonely in.

Situated in the autonomous community of Castilla-La Mancha, Albacete is surrounded by dry, beige, yet oddly captivating landscape. Travelling through by train was like entering Mars, with the odd patches of green. And looking at the spotless blue sky I could have been forgiven for thinking it was the middle of the summer (until I took a step outside, of course).

And from the picturesque to the picaresque, the lanky silhouette of Don Quixote - perhaps the region's most iconic literary creation - can be seen dotted about the city, from fridge magnets and statues to bakery signs,

I arrived on Thursday. My mum took me to the airport, but I didn't have time to feel emotional as my hand luggage was scanned, opened and swabbed for "explosive materials". Thankfully, I'd made the last-minute decision not to put all my underwear in my hand luggage. That's the thing about moving abroad: what on earth do you take? I repacked my case many times, and even then, I had to really force it into the luggage holder to say, "That's right, it fits! *pant pant*". I saw some cases going around with "Right Sized Case Company" written on them. Who's smug idea was that?

I travelled from Alicante to Albacete, met my boss and another teacher (who took me out from some Spanish seafood). I'm living with a sweet little old Spanish lady who can't speak any English, her son, and an older Latin teacher, so it'll be a good chance to practice my flailing Spanish. To be honest, I had no idea where I'd be living until I arrived, if I'd be living with axe murderers or, most importantly, if there would be internet or not. Thankfully, it's all good.

I've since spent the first couple of days getting acquainted with the city in the only way I know how: by getting horribly lost. On my first night I just left the flat and kept walking, until I realised I had no idea where I was. I'm trying to speak to everyone in Spanish, but sometimes, it just doesn't cut it. I wandered into a supermarket, announced if anyone could speak English, was told in Spanish to get a bus so I got on a random bus and flailed back to the flat.