Merry Richmas to All

Rich arrived without a hitch on December 24 (that is vair vair unlike us) and we set off to the lovely land of Reading. Rich thought he wouldn't feel the jetlag, so we made lots of plans for the day he landed, however after immediately entering my room we both collapsed and fell into a deep slumber (vair vair like us). We woke up about five hours later and decided to find something to eat and see the new Harry Potter movie. I have been complaining for weeks that there are no Mexican places to eat in England, yet 15 minutes on the street with Rich and he found a delicious Burrito place. He has since also managed to locate a Jamaican restaurant, which I have walked by every day and not observed. I have managed to locate Mark & Spencers, House of Fraser, McDonalds, Lush, Jamie Oliver's restaurant, and Boots...WASP to the core.

Since moving here, I have been reunited with my inner nerd and obsessively reading HP books and rewatching the movies. Much to Rich's delight, I sobbed loudly throughout the latest movie as J.K. Rowling decided to kill off as many characters as possible for her audience of children. If you thought I might have been handling the movie poorly, you should have seen the hovel of children in front of us sobbing into the sleeves of their Gap Kids sweaters. I will definitely be trying to seek out Miss Rowling to give her a piece of my mind and explain to her that my blog is a hit without me ever having to write about killing off my loved ones. Your welcome.

Rich and I also planned several day trips into London and to Stonehenge, however after planning our routes and hours of looking at maps, I discovered that the Reading train station is closed until January 4th while they fix some of the train tracks. This means that we have to take a bus to Maidenhead (up to 40 minutes depending on which bus you take) then catch a train to London (40 minutes also) adding a hefty amount of time to our journey considering if there were no repairs, we can catch a train that takes 30 minutes for us to get to London. I might also be inclined to mention the bus isn’t anything like in Canada. Seats seem to be much smaller, there is much less leg room, and people pack into small spaces without any regard for personal space. More often than not, I feel an affectionate touch, thinking Rich is being sweet however, it is often gigantic, sweaty men that have names like Jeb.

Our first day trip was to the British Museum, which is as close to heaven as I think I will get on earth. I love museums more than I love kittens, which says a lot as I fancy myself a soft kitten. The sheer size of the building is enough to put people in awe, but then stumbling into the Room of Enlightenment I felt like Indiana Jones or that chick from the Mummy. They had so many artifacts that they could not display them all and had to line the walls up to the ceiling and have a mini guide so you knew what they were. In Rich and my relationship, I have dragged him to a lot of museums (oh joy unbounded) however, we have been slightly disappointed with the quality of them in Canada. Several places we have been have displayed “replicas” of artifacts or fake animals. Why would anyone want to look at a replica of an artifact and why would said artifact be placed behind a glass case? If it’s fake, let me manhandle it to see what the real thing would look like up close. If you are going to cage a fake, I might as well google image that thing and use my zoom option to get a better gander. You don’t see Madame Tussaud putting her wax figures of Denzel or Cher behind a barrier. I can pose as inappropriately as I want with a waxy Bruce Willis or fist bump Obama. Anyway, at the British Museum, everything is totally, 100% legit. If it says I am looking at the Rosetta Stone, I can practically see the sweat from the palms of the stone chiseler.

The only drawback to going over Christmas, is the amount of tourists that ram themselves into the museum. We were bumped, shoved, groped, and violated in as many ways as you can imagine. My favourite part is lining up a perfect shot only to have someone step right into your frame and start taking 1000 photos per second…not. I tried to keep my patience and limit my temper, however one man pushed me to the limit. We had been at the museum for a solid hour when I found four statues I wanted to photograph. A man kept repeatedly stepping into my photos until I unleashed a rage of side comments that would make Sue Sylvester blush. He got the point and apologized, yet managed to dominate the photo again. Here is what I got:

Thanks buddy. Now when my children go through photos of my trip forty years from now, they will wonder who the strange man is that is in all my photographs. I am really glad he could take this journey with us...

Finally, two hilarious moments. Rich and I were talking about exports in the museum (we can no longer remember how this topic came about) however after being shoved multiple times, my darling, endlessly patient, and quite quiet boyfriend said aloud, “Well apparently manners are the main export of Canada.” People’s heads turned and I burst out laughing as they continue to shove him along.

Lastly, we were both winding down from traveling so far and walking all day, so our moods were somewhat somber as we entered the final room we were going to see that day. As we walked in, a man was holding his very young daughter's hand trying to navigate her through the crowd. She was not really looking where she was going and when he sidestepped a display of King Tut,  she was dragged directly into the glass case, making the distinct sound that occurs when a body (specifically the face) hits glass at high velocity. The sheer force of the collision, caused her to spin off the side of the display and roll into her father, who looked very sheepish as everyone was watching open-mouthed and making gasping-chortling laughter sounds. I, of course, am much less subtle and just shouted to Rich, “Did you see that??? AWESOME!” as he steered me away laughing loudly as well.

All in all, it has been a busy start to our holiday, but we are going to keep on. Tomorrow we are off to see the British Aquarium, the House of Parliament, and Buckingham Palace. Pip pip, cheerio!

Swan Lake Ballet

I am not a religious person by any means, but sometimes I wonder if there are signs that show us we are in the right place in our lives. Just now I had a moment that might be construed as some sort of sign.

About a month ago, I started to really get into classical music. I went on a website to look up influential songs or popular classical songs. I downloaded just over 120 songs and put them all in an album so I can shuffle through them.

Just now, I put my itunes on random and somehow I had not managed to hear every one of the classical songs I downloaded, because a song came on that immediately made me gasp. I had heard the song before, about 15 years ago with my grandma Jean. I used to have sleepovers with her when I was younger and they were one of the highlights of my childhood. We would stay up late (probably 9:30) watching old movies and eating huge bowls of chocolate crackle ice cream, then tuck into her huge bed with the fan blowing and fall asleep to classical music. There was one tape that she played and one specific song that I loved. Being about 8 at this time, I remember asking her at least four times what the song was called, having her say the name, and it being so long that I would forget and need her to repeat it again. She passed away not long after that and I never remembered the name of the song. It's hard to find a classical song if you don't remember any of the title, with no lyrics to google. All I could remember was the strings and how they made me think of water.

So, hearing the song almost 15 years later, I was immediately transported back into Jean's bed and I can remember exactly what the room looked like, smelled like, and felt like. Sign? Who knows. But why would I randomly stumble across it now?

The song, Act 1 Waltz from the Swan Lake Ballet by Tchaikovsky. Hearing more of the songs from the play, it was likely a tape of the whole musical that we listened to, because I am recognizing more and more. Great find.

For anyone who would like to listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsPnZjdD3XY&feature=related

Also listen to part 1/8 and 3/8, they are the most memorable to me.

I just waterboarded our toddler lol...

What's worse than being sick and having to stay in bed for a week? Being healthy and having nothing to do but sit in your bed for a week. I noticed I was on the mend when I began to obsess about the standards of my living. For the past sick week, I was throwing kleenex in the general direction of the garbage, letting hair from my brush fall onto the floor by my sink, and sleeping on the same sheets after not showering for days. Basically, I was living in a sick pit. When I finally opened my curtains on the weekend, the glow of sunlight seemed to have awoken my disgust with myself. This sent me into an obsessive-compulsive spiral of cleanliness. I bought a vacuum cleaner, dusted windowsills, spent hours in the laundromat, threw out old curtains, scrubbed the toilet, and sanitized all my cutlery in boiling water. I am not well enough to travel around (I am working up my stamina to being outside in the cold. I can be out of the house for about two hours before I collapse) so I have to spend a lot of time in my room. When sick, I was content to lingering under the sheets and reading hours of Harry Potter books, but now I haven't felt moved to hear the call of Dumbledore's Army for a while. So what do I do? Well, I spent three hours wrapping Christmas presents to send home for my family only to find out that this Christmas, terrorists have had the same plan, but instead of presents being sent to family, they are wrapping bombs for infidels. Security has advised that no one pack wrapped presents in their luggage or they might be unwrapped by security and therefore damaged. I haven't decided if I will send all my gifts wrapped with Rich, and hope they don't get unwrapped by security or if I will unwrap them all so they don't get smashed up by security when they "unwrap" them. I guess it also depends on whether Rich decides to shave before he flies home, because often his Jamaican decent can be mistaken for terrorist if his beard has gotten away from him.

So I have decided to fill my evenings with watching my favourite tv shows that I have missed for the past six weeks. Modern Family has kept me laughing, which balances out my tears from watching Grey's and terror from watching Criminal Minds. Almost completely caught up, and not a moment too soon as Rich will be arriving soon and we can share some cleverly referenced jokes during our daily banter (we are that cool).

Tomorrow I plan on an outing to London, as there is no work for me for the rest of this week. I might see some museums, and will definitely be hitting up some markets. A travel to London takes about 35-40 minutes by train to London Paddington, then anywhere from 25 - 40 minutes on the underground to wherever I need to go. I also have yet to master reading train departure signs/time tables and have befriended one train manager who guides me every evening after work. One day he tried to actually explain how I can read the screens on my own, however my eyes glazed over so fast, he just told me the platform and the time and never attempted to teach me again. Now he just greets me and tells me where to go without me having to ask. I will definitely be giving him a Christmas card when I see him next.
Anyway, megavideo has now allowed me to return to watching Criminal Minds after waiting the usual 54 minutes between shows. I have somewhat desensitized myself from the show by convincing myself that since none of the killers have British accents, certainly these heinous crimes are only committed in America and therefore I have nothing to fear. La-la-la-la *fingers in ears*

Brush with Death

Sorry for not writing sooner. As it is, I had to mentally prepare myself on my bed for about 20 minutes to get up the nerve to cross my room and open my laptop. For just over 2 weeks, I have has this terrible cough, congestion, fever problem and although it seemed to be better this weekend, I was struck down Monday night with intense fever and pains. Moving about has been somewhat of a trying task.

I went to the doctor yesterday and he gave me a new prescription of antibiotics (the other seemed to work, but didn't last long enough to kill everything). He assured me there would be no problems and sent me on my merry way. Well today, after two doses (1 tablet 3 times daily) I started feeling slightly funny in the head. I continued to read in my bed, until the light hit my right arm and I swore I saw a few dots that had not been there before. I checked my left arm and sure enough there were dots there too. I pulled back the covers and my entire body was covered in red bumps. I ran to my trusty sidekick, Noks and asked where I should go/what I should do. A roommate should never look so frightened when gazing upon your face...I knew I was in trouble. The skin around my face had begun to swell up quite nicely into a little puff. I looked like I was holding a snowball behind my lips.

So I rushed to the clinic and they saw me right away. They gave me a high dose anti-histamine and kept me for observation to make sure my throat didn't close or I didn't drift into a never-ending slumber. I was sent home, told to discontinue the meds, and take these new ones to combat the remaining bumps. My legs have the worst of it, but luckily what makes me the big bucks (my face) has returned to normal.

In the meantime, to keep busy while on bed-rest I have developed several addictions:
-Honey & Vanilla Tea
-Harry Potter books
-watching the HP movie right after finishing the book (disappointed with the 5th movie, I expected better)
-guessing what time it is when I have awoken from a nap, then seeing how close I am after checking (I have a little tally beside my bed)
-making toilet paper outfits for Pinkball, my favourite being his three-piece tuxedo or afternoon vest
-sleeping

Anyway, if you have any suggestions for me to occupy my time that don't involve me getting up from my bed, please let me know.

Humas

I forgot to mention that the other day my dear Moth brought it to my attention that she thought it was funny how in Seinfeld, George's dad invents Festivus as a substitute for Christmas. She cleverly drew a parallel between Festivus and her invented holiday of Humas.

Background:
One year, not too long ago, about a month before Christmas my mom began obsessively saying "well merry effing Christmas to me" or just "well merry Christmas to me." Let me give you a situation.
Katie "Mom, can you please iron my shirts?"
Moth "Well, on my day off? Hmm Merry effing Christmas to me"
When the lovely month of February rolled around, Sean finally burst and forbid my mom from saying merry Christmas any longer. Calmly, my mom looked at him and replied, "well Merry f*****g Humas to me."
Pure genius. I would like to say that my mom's calling was reached when she graduated top in her class at Laurier, or got married, or had a beautiful daughter, but nay nay, only when she came up with THE best word to respond, did she meet her potential. From that day, a lifestyle was born. We hashed out details in the kitchen soon after, deciding Humas would begin December 28 and end November 11 (when we REMEMBER Humas is over and we can again resume saying Merry f*****g Christmas) Our council met again this year however, and decided that November 11th is a tad used up, so we moved the ending of Humas to the 25th, and we remember because it's exactly a month before the big day. Humas spread like wildfire through my friends and our family, solidifying my mom's place among the greatest inventors.

Things that are funny in the Seinfeld situation:
1) Mom HATES Seinfeld with a deep rooted passion in her heart, so to hear her openly admit that something on the show was even mildly amusing is hilar.
2) She almost seemed to hint that Humas was a completely unique idea/invention that our family spawned and somehow Seinfeld even caught on to our idea (Humas is much newer than Festivus)
3) All this time, mom has thought that Sean and I were completely brilly-brills for rounding out the finer details of Humas, when the concept of a Christmas substitute/new holiday invention was something we no doubt were influenced by Seinfeld.
4) Mom DID in fact spawn Humas out of thin air and being an active hater of Seinfeld, it was purely of her own comedic genius that it came into existence. Basically saying that my mother is as funny as Jerry Seinfeld or Larry David AND I will go as far to say that if Seinfeld was never written, my mom would likely have written a screenplay for a show named Smeinfeld and had episodes such as "The Salad Nazi" "The After Eight" "The Handicapable Spot" and "The Ruffly Shirt"

She might also have written some other episodes such as:
- The Fortune Cookie aka The Nemesis
- The Hip Hop Class
- The Dog Salad

(Enquire within if you are unsure of any of these infamous tales of my Moth)

Sleeping Beauties

I am back to work despite my terrible hacking cough, which is amplified when I come from the rather chilly outside, to a well-heated classroom and vice-versa. And now that I think about it, I seem to be doing a lot of outdoor yard duties as the weather cools down, even when I check the overall staff schedule and the teacher I am filling in for isn't down for any duties that day...hmmm... My cough is getting so bad that when I approach classes, children are likely cowering under their desks thinking Gollum is coming for their preciouses. (This joke beat out "the children think I am another one of Marge Simpson's sisters" and "the children think I am their creepy Uncle Marty who smokes two packs a day and always sits in the dimly lit corners at family get-togethers")

The past two days have been rather unreal though and super laid back. Schools are really gearing up for their Christmas assemblies, so most of the classes I have taught in are just practicing all day. I am actually surprised by how many Christmas activities the schools are doing, especially with the high Muslim population in London schools. One girl told the TA yesterday that her dad wouldn't let her sing about Jesus or Christmas in the play. To which the TA responded, "oh just sing 'cheeses' at the 'Jesus' bits." She shrugged and skipped off, totally chill with the whole thing. Hilarious.

Today, my reception class (British equivalent to our kindergarden) had to go watch a two hour assembly put on by the junior years. This included all the stations of the cross (look 'em up, there are a lot), songs, poems, prayers, and the story of Mary & Joe traveling to Bethlehem for Jesus' birth. All well and good, and beautifully put on, but about 30 minutes in, I felt a thud on my left shoulder. A dear boy, who had been trying to keep his heavy eyelids open, finally bit the dust and collapsed in a deep slumber on my shoulder. After that, it was like a pandemic. The moment the children saw one child give into temptation (pun intended) they all took it as being socially acceptable. It was like the movie The Matrix, when people in the matrix get unplugged in the real world and collapse dead. Children were dropping into coma-like trances and could not be roused. The boy immediately to my right slid off the pew and onto the floor and still would not wake up. The TA was silently howling at the scene and I was slightly panicking, worried that the other teachers would be judging me allowing them to continue to dream. We had to give in because: a) they are four, b) it WAS two hours, and c) they had ROAST BEEF for school dinner - any grown human would be a tad sleepy after a full roast meal for lunch. I had to take two children on my lap (the ones that seemed most likely to fall off the pew and crack their heads) and two leaning on my shoulders. The TA had several children collapsed on her as well. One little girl was snoozing so peacefully and making those cute sleepy noises and sucking her thumb.

I did feel bad for the juniors because we were in the front row and they were only a few feet away from us, singing directly at our class all the while their immediate audience weren't even conscious and it was very noticeable. Luckily, the head teacher saw us and mouthed 'how cute' so I knew I didn't have to start giving any of the kids hard jabs in the ribs to keep them awake.

Another successful teaching day completed. I really feel like I have fulfilled my calling being a cushion for children to snooze on and an observer of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer sang every different way possible. Welcome to the good life.

*Crackle Crackle Wheeze Wheeze

Achoo sneeze! (Nice rhyme - title + first line...oh nevermind, aha another rhyme, ok stop and I mean it....anybody want a peanut?)

Anyway, I have bronchitis. Sucks. I managed to score some intense jimmy though...if only I could pay for it. The doctor was like, "oh we don't prescribe medications with codeine in it" and I was like "oh yes you do..." I explained my family history and how I sprayed yellow vomit all over my floor from a coughing fit this morning and he began looking up meds in his big book of drugs-not-to-prescribe-anyone-who-seems-to-be-drug-seeking. I think it was the detail with which I spoke about the vomit that really pushed him over the edge..."and then, sprays of yellow, which reminded me much of a dragon spurting flames toward a small Albanian village, foamed and shot from my nose and mouth -" you get the picture. He promptly gave me antibiotics and a high dose of codeine syrup. I will be slumbering like a baby.

This also means that I have missed out on infecting children today and also tomorrow because I cannot fill said prescriptions until tomorrow morning because my appointment was after hours. I already thought it was slightly shady that the doc agreed to stay late for an appointment with me, but I informed Sean where I would be and if I didn't contact him, to start searching for me in an ice bath with my kidneys missing. 

Anyway, my fever and constant cough has made me slightly loopy so forgive me if this post is off the wall. Noks was quite pleased that I was given something to stop my cough. I thought her telling me about the doctor's office was out of general concern, but today she again impressed upon me how thin our walls were and how much I coughed throughout the night.

Ho hum pig's bum. Anyway, off to eat some clear liquids (what my diet has consisted of) and watch ER. It is Dr. Carter's last season and I am beginning to feel quite low about the whole thing. I guess that's what happens when you invest on watching 11 seasons of a character. It's really nice to travel around the world, only to stay in your room and watch tv!

(not)

Prison Number 29786

SO my roomie Noks just let me know that she met the guy living upstairs......... and saw his house arrest anklet. She tried to reassure me that he would only ever be allowed out on house arrest if he wasn't a major danger to society. Major or minor = still a danger.
I was going to leave a passive aggressive note in the bathroom to whoever was smoking, windows closed on the toilet and dumping their ashes in the sink, but now I have reconsidered. Noks may have just saved my life.

Which brings me to the next update: Noks and I have solidified a friendship with an hour gossip session about our prison house mates. She knocked on my door because she wanted to explain to me how to register with a doctor. She said she was really worried about my cough and I should get it checked out. I guess I have not been as quiet in my sleep as I thought. The great thing about a house friend is now if I am choking in my room, I know I can run to her for the heimlich maneuver (my biggest fear and why I refuse to ever live in the country - choking and having no one able to revive me). OR if I suffer a terrible accident in my room, she will realize I am missing and seek me out, rather than waiting weeks for my decaying body stench to alert someone to my mishap. She is also happy that I am CPR trained.

Today a boy said to me "Miss, if we behave right nicely can we show you some things? Like some sweet dance moves on the carpet?" I didn't tell him that even if they were dicks, I would allow them to because it would be outrageous, but I did agree. A maths, science, and literacy lesson later, I was transported into breakdance heaven. Year fours can move, let me tell you. My particular favourite is "the hump" which I have named rightfully so and basically involved the ground and some ridic pelvic thrusting. Who knew the British loved to bust a move so much? Two days in a row and I am feeling pretty blessed.

Today also happens to be my stepfather's birthday. First time I think I have ever missed celebrating it at home. *Sniff. Miss my fam jam. xoxo Sean. I wanted to send him something in the post, however when I enquired on the prices to do so, I thought it would be pretty inappropriate to just send the empty packaging as that would be all I could afford. A nice skype conversation will have to do. I also have to stay up until my eyes bleed to have said conversation due to the time difference, so I am pretty sure it is as great as receiving a shiny new present in the post.

Final Destination...Death by Shower

If you have ever seen the movie Final Destination or even Saw, you will understand my sheer panic.
I was in my shower which is already a glass case of emotion, made for infants, when I pressed the button to turn on the water and nothing came out. I fussed about with the nozzle, the temperature dials, and all the settings, but nothing more than a trickle ran out. Showers in the UK are typically powered by this stupid box on the wall instead of taps, yet another clever invention of the British (not).

As I was about to retreat to my room, settling for being a grease ball for another day, I heard a high-powered piston-type sound, much like the sound of air breaks on a rollercoaster such as The Bat. I looked up, into the shower head which is directly above me when scalding hot water poured out over my entire body with such a force that I was blown back into the glass doors of my standing shower. I couldn't get out. The glass doors are on rusty old tracks which are impossible to maneuver even if flesh-melting water isn't running over your tender bits.

I instead, rolled back and forth against the glass until I managed to burn off just enough nerve endings to endure the pain long enough to smash through the glass latch and run sopping wet onto my bathroom floor.  I really felt like I was trapped and going to melt to death in this tiny shower, found the next day by my grungy boy room mates. In fact, there is a scene in Final Destination where two girls are burned alive in a tanning bed, very much the same as my situation. I turned off the shower, fiddled some more and settled for a freezing shower to stop my arms from blistering.

Here is the hell I am referring to:

Lego and Let it Snow

After yesterday, I believe the universe felt they owed me one and gave me the best year one class I could have asked for. Not only were they super cute, but they also made me full out laugh SO many times (plus it didn't hurt that the school cafeteria was free for teachers to eat lunch, woop woop). The teacher whose class I was covering for, was called away for the day and hadn't planned anything, so she let me do some really fun lessons and pretty much just chill with the kids. For maths, we were focusing on spatial awareness so the class busted out huge tubs of Lego to build houses to scale. 

One of the kids made a giant house, but didn't put in a door. When I asked him why, he said "it's a prison for my brother, he sucks." Hearing a proper British child say something sucks is actually hilarious and he was promptly awarded full marks. At lunch time, the cafe served meat lasagna but they needed a vegetarian and halal alternative, so they just served all those children cheese that had been grated to look like spaghetti. I was like "eat your noodles Nasma" and the little girl said "this is just cheese, if I eat it, I will get a tummy ache." The cheese was mounded on their plates in huge helpings, mucho disgust but absolutely hilarious. 

The rest of the afternoon we practiced for the Christmas assembly, which meant I put on a cd the teacher made of seven songs the kids had to learn. They were busting out some sweet dance moves and they had actions to each lyric. Some of the songs included what you would expect i.e. Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and Jingle Bells, but then there were some other gems like Bad by Michael Jackson, The Lion Sleeps Tonight by the Tokens, and Walk Like a Robot by some Kids Pop Band. For Bad, the routine planned for the assembly, was boys rolling around the floor like break dancing, while the girls made a circle around them saying "ooh ooh." Best. Day. Ever. I wish I had a camera because by the end of it, tears were streaming down my face from laughing at how sweaty they were getting dancing so hard. The dancing was also choreographed, so it wasn't like loser Romp-A-Room stuff where kids just hop around like they are in a bouncy castle. The moves were so legit and every single child knew them.

I don't know if this post makes me a loser for even writing about loving building lego houses and watching dance routines, but I think it actually makes me pretty awesome (poss why Julia thought I would be into LARPing...I am not.). Either way, I know I have chosen the right profession because kids always think talking about lego and dancing your butt off is cool. Win.

Fried Green Tomatoes

This morning should have been a major indicator of how my day was going to go, but as a glass half full girl, I really didn't anticipate the worst.

I bought new heels for my too-long pants I have for work. I picked out a super cute outfit in which my shoes matched the colour of my shirt exactly and I was looking good. I stepped outside and saw for the first time, it had snowed in Reading. My shoes were open-toed. Sucky, but I thought I could deal, plus if I changed my shoes, my pants would be, well...too long. So I trounced along, but the ground was so slippery, I could go half the speed I normally go to make the 7:01 train.

I finally made it, and to my surprise the train was delayed! What larks! That NEVER happens. So I could catch my train after all. Until I felt a giant snag in my stride, which jarred my delicate hobbit-foot from my shoe. I quickly slid my foot back in, but could not lift my heel. The heel of my shoe had lodged itself in a grate in the platform. Immediately panic set in, and I am not sure as to why because I wasn't in anyone's immediate way and I was not on train tracks, as so often is depicted in made-for-tv-tragedies. I pulled so hard with my foot, but it was not budging at all. I didn't want to use my hands yet, because that would have turned everyone's eyes to me. I stood there. I then really started to panic and used my one hand to pull up on the heel, all while masking my actions as me inspecting my shoe, not REALLY pulling at it. The train pulled away. As soon as it cleared the platform, I yanked my foot out, crouched, and with all my might, pulled with both hands. Only after 3 or 4 intense yanks, did it shoot out of the grate.

I caught the 7:25. I now know what kind of fear the kid in Fried Green Tomatoes was feeling.

The rest of the day progressed as painfully. I was in a year 1/2 class of THE worst behaved children. They also had uniquely Muslim names, which made attendance last about 20 minutes in the morning. After each name that I butchered, all the children shouted "NOOOOOOO HAHAHA IT'S NA-HEE-NA-NA-JA!" You know the power struggle has already been won, when the children know you can't even yell their name if they are being shits.

Longest day. We will see what becomes of tomorrow.

The Kids Are Alright

Well it's been a while (as Dub has reminded me). Things have been so busy lately that I haven't had a chance to update. Today was the first day that I realized I hadn't seen sunlight pour through my windows in nine days. I leave my flat every morning around 6:25am and get in around 6 or 7pm, depending on how late I have to stay after school. Either way, darkness surrounds me.

I absolutely love teaching. The kids are the cutest and they are just so funny. I have lucked out and been placed in an amazing school, so I have been a constant supply for them. I just found out I will be working everyday next week too, and two of those days will be in the fab school too. The staff is so small though, that I find myself hoping that one of them will have an accident, either an unwanted pregnancy or a broken leg/spirit so that they cannot return to work. That is the only way I can see myself getting a long term placement with them in the near future. I haven't quite reached the point of setting them up for these "accidents" but maybe with a few more weeks of commuting, Future Katie will take matters in to her own hands...I don't know, I am not her keeper.

The commute to my fav school:
-Every morning leave flat around 6:25
-Catch the 6:55/7:01 train to Paddington Station (approx 35 minutes depending on if the train is direct)
-Transfer to underground on the Circle/District Line
-Go one stop to Edgware Road
-Hop on Circle/Hammersmith line
-Off at Kings Cross
-Onto Northern Line - destination High Barnet, otherwise you are dealing with a new barrel of monkeys
-Off at Kentish Town
Whole trip takes about 1.5 hours, but has taken up to 3 hours one morning...

Like I said, a few weeks of this could lead me to kill a puppy so we will have to see.

Best quote of the week: When playing tag with the children outside, a boy came up to me and said "you must feel really sad that you can't even catch a 4 year old boy." He was taunting me. I could catch him...I was just being fair. I promptly tagged him and wrestled him to the ground. In your face kid.

Best name: Lord-Teon

Unfortunately now, I am beginning to get really sick with a cold/pneumonia. None of the sinks at the school have hand soap. I have resorted to carrying my own soap flakes to stay sterilized. I blame the past four days of only washing my hands under scalding water for this illness. I can't miss any school because I am only paid for days the school is open, and this term ends in 3 weeks. I need to save up my cash flow for the Christmas break. This is also unfortunate for the children, as I will be acting like the infected monkeys in the movie Outbreak, spreading the Phlegm Death to them. I will only take a day off if I am bleeding from the ears and even then, only if I can't patch it up with some cotton swabs. You better hide yo kids, hide yo wife, and hide yo husband too...

Hey Nostradamus!

Had a fabbity-fab day today!

I signed a Guaranteed Work Agreement with the London Office, so as of Monday, I will not be out of work again! They even raised my salary and expenditures because of the extra commute I have to do now. Win.

I had a genuine Seinfeld moment today on the train to London Paddington. A crowd was gathering on the platform to get on the train, so when it arrived, everyone dashed on trying to get a seat. The train from Reading to Paddington takes about 30 minutes, so people obv want to sit down. There were four seats in the train car I was in, and the first one I went to, a bunch of people dashed for. Then I switched my pattern and went to the next available seat. Again, someone sniped my seat, and in the process, shuffled me into the bike/baby carriage area where I proceeded to loose my footing and break my fall on a leaning bicycle. The bike toppled over and my only response was "OOOOOOOOO" rhyming with "glue" not an "OO" rhyming with "dough." The high-pitched nature of my banshee call, caused every head to turn and see what I had done. I of course ran into the next train car and hid in a chair around the corner. Unfortunately I was still in earshot to hear a woman say to the man next to her "wasn't it funny how she just went OOOOO?!" Then I was overcome with pride that my ridiculousness made such an impression that people actually talked about it after I left. Unreeeeeal.

Also today, I had my first meeting with the Singles Club aka Reading Central Library Book Club. I was surrounded by 30-something men and a 20-something chick who bugged full blast. Those men catered to me like I was Cleopatra. I was surprised no one busted out a palm leaf to fan me with. Anyway, there were some real duds but overall an intelligent conversation about the book "Hey Nostradamus!". I do not however, recommend reading it...ho hum pigs bum. As I was leaving, the bbol walked me to where I had to go, because I was so turned around in the dark. I went to put my headphones in when I heard my name called. One of the 30-something year olds called me to walk with him. 10 minutes and 7 awkward pauses later, I found out he is recently divorced, moved from London to Reading, and this was his 3rd book club meeting.

Making "friends" isn't always what its cracked up to be.

Half Full/Half Empty

The great debate: are you a "glass half full" person or "glass half empty" person?

My answer is this:
What if the glass is half full of shit?

Then it doesn't matter if you are half full or empty, you still have a glass of shit and that just sucks.

I am a half full girl but half full of a glass of poop.

Today was one of the worst days of my life, but I still managed to laugh at the end of it. Partially thanks to the hilarious people I surround myself with everyday. Today's honorable mentions were Sean, Richie, and Julia.

I woke up to a call saying that my contract to teach was being terminated because a sheet of paperwork that my company was supposed to submit, was not yet submitted so I technically can't work in Reading. They were terminating my contract because they couldn't afford to pay a teacher (I have guaranteed pay even days I don't work) who wasn't able to work, even if it was their fault. So I am stranded, poor, and jobless. Luckily some great women at the head office thought it was awful what they were doing to me in Reading, so they are getting me work in London. There are only 3.5 weeks left of school term so this is how my sched looks for now:

3.5 weeks - teaching in London, commuting from Reading
January - resuming my contract with the Reading office, teaching an L.T.O (long term occasional, someone's maternity leave)
April - lease for my apartment in Reading is up, move to London and continue teaching there (this is a big maybe right now, it all depends how happy I am in Reading after my LTO)

This is a major simplified version that took me, Sean, and seven people at work to figure out over the course of the entire afternoon...and still nothing is set in stone.

Why I managed to laugh:
Mid breakdown, I told Sean that now I am going to have to turn tricks for money and prostitute myself out so I can eat. His reply: "Oh honey, no you'll dance first." Best response ever. Immediate laughter.

Rich and Julia are always hilarious, filling my head with unreal commentary and funny ways to look at the world. So blessed to have them in my life.

Anyway, my glass always seems to be steaming poop, but at least it's half full and not half empty.

Where Have All the Blue Pens Gone

When I moved here, I asked Sean if I should take a pencil case. He said no. I brought along one blue pen. I treasured this pen, it was one of those pens that you always seek out to use because it writes smoothly, you don't have to press too hard, it fits your hand exactly in circumference, and it is the perfect colour of dark blue. I used this pen a lot. Anyway, Pen was kept in the exact same spot when I got here and I never took Pen out of my room. Then two days ago I went to take down some information and Pen was gone. I used it two hours before on another note and I still had the note (to prove I wasn't misremembering)! I turned my room upside down looking for it. I mean, it is practically a cell, there are three places it could be: my bed, my dresser, or my counter. Gone.

So, after coming to terms with my loss, with my head hung I walked down to W.H. Smith, broke the bank, and bought TWO blue pens. I also bought a pen cup so I could store my new writers. Yesterday, I went to the pen cup and there is only ONE blue pen! What the fresh hell?! There is a blue pen whore in my room that is stealing away my writing utensils whilst I watch ER.

I will get to the bottom of this.

Also, at night my room is quite bright because I live on ground level and there is a street light that pours into my windows. I sleep every night with a sleep mask and every morning I wake up, without my mask on, and it has been courteously folded and placed on the pillow beside me. REM Katie is quite kind and tidy. I shall try to contract her out for other things such as look for Pen while I sleep.

Well...these are the stories folks. Not much happens when you sit by the phone, waiting to be called in to teach. Looking for Pen and waking up to a folded sleep mask three days in a row gave me quite a chuckle...

Let's all keep our fingers crossed the phone rings on Monday.

Two Wins and a Loss-ish

Sam and I went to a delicious pub roast on Sunday. Apparently this is a tradition to go to a pub for lunch on Sundays and start ingesting brews mid-aft...so we did. We had a full out roast with all the accompanying veg for lunch and a Strawberry Cider.

I noticed I began laughing a little harder at all our jokes about halfway through my potent beverage. But we continued and stumbled into the Westfield Shopping Centre (one of the largest malls in the UK). I was not in my Sunday best, due to the fact I thought we were just hanging out at a local dodgy pub. Unfortunately, where we entered, we were in the fancy section and area I cannot afford aka Prada, Tiffany's, etc...

It wasn't long before in my awe of fancy things, I bumped smashed into someone on my left side. I looked quickly, then stopped dead and grabbed Sam's arm. The guy was the actor who played Shaun of the Dead's friend in the movie. Who can remember his name, hence the delay in explaining to Sam whose shoulder I just dislocated. I made her stare at him as he lumbered along (he is not the most agile looking creature) with a woman. We then quickly looked him up on her phone and he was even wearing the same glasses as in the photo (see below)

I have never been more star struck. It was an unreal experience, meeting the friend of a famous person, who is predominantly famous in Britain for small films he has made with his buddies. Great win. His name is also Nick Frost, for those who want to google him and see why he seems distantly familiar in your memory.

Second on the docket is having successfully achieved Operation Friend. I have made contact with Ms. Next-Door Neighbour and we chatted about life. I know I have successfully made said friendship, because she said I could ask her tomorrow morning if I needed help finding the right bus to get to work. No one would offer unless she fancied me as a bestie. Right? Right.

Two wins in two days. I'd say things are coming up roses. My only other somewhat achievement (but also somewhat loss) is making the cut for a local book club. It was quite an interview. I literally had to apply and explain to them who I was and what kind of purpose I have in life, in order for them to allow me to see what book they were currently reading and meet with them December 6. They even threw in the "well you can meet us, we have a set of the novels however all the copies are out, so you will have to buy one if you want to join." A typical response I would send if I was trying to shake someone off. I responded with "Great! I am super excited! I will get the book tomorrow then meet you December 6!" Player won't get played. Then I looked up the book we were to read. The Night Watch by Sarah Waters. Let me show you a brief review:

"Having won critical acclaim and a passionate following for her genre of 'lesbian Victorian romp', as she once chirpily described it, it's a brave move to exchange the petticoats for an austerity cut."

Oh joy unbounded. Wikipedia says she is best known for her novels set in Victorian society... just my niche. I am sure I will be able to contribute meaningful comments toward the discussion in December. But I will not let them win, I will read it, then read online all the literary strands seen in the novel, and regurgitate them in the meeting. "All the copies loaned out" I'll show you.

Milk

On my way home from Greenwich (which was awesome by the way!) I quickly stopped by Tesco's Express because my bones were craving some calcium. I grabbed some milk and hobnobs for a late night snack. Unfortunately, I only saw "whole milk" on the container and forgot that in the UK whole milk = 4% milk. WHO NEEDS 4%? That's 2 more than we need back home. I think they literally squirt the milk from the teat into the jug. Needless to say, when drinking from the carton, immediately my mouth was covered with a filmy cream. It was like drinking a delicious glue or cheese. I had to drink twice as much water just to get the creamy coating off my tonsils.

Regrets...for myself and my bowel.

I love me some museums

Five museums in two days. Not so bad. Although after all the walking, I have been crashing on my bed around six every night. I am exhausted too because I have to stay awake relatively late to talk to any of my loved ones on skype. Today, I was at the Cole Museum of Zoology and managed to take some sweet shots. One particular photo, I needed to get more space because even at full zoom out, I couldn't get the entire display. Up until this moment, I was completely alone in the museum, with not a person in sight and it was so silent that the noise of my camera flash echoed. At this particular time, I take a large step back to get the picture I want and BOOM! I smash my entire upper body (including head) into the case behind me, just as a group of people walk by.

It was humiliating for four reasons:
-the loud crash my skull made on the glass
-the expression of surprise then pain that must have exploded onto my face, where the group of people could clearly see
-the age old display behind me, containing priceless specimens, was hit with such force that all the little things standing up in it fell over.
-in case the group were deaf and momentarily looking away, my camera still managed to take a picture with a huge flash, drawing their attention to me and the case

I fled the scene. Great picture though, no? (Snake skeleton)

Badger. Badger. Badger

The British LOVE their badgers. Exhibit A:

Flood

So as I have mentioned earlier, the people in my building don't like to clean too much. This would not be a problem, only that we share a kitchen and bathroom. On the first day, I decided to poke around (especially after seeing the state of my shower downstairs). I happened to fall down the rabbit hole and stumble across a heaven bathroom. It is bright, big, and beautiful. My shower stall, is a stand up with two sliding glass doors that encompass you like a coffin. The upstairs bathroom (equipped with tub) has a nice shower curtain and sparkling walls, I felt like George Costanza when he stumbles on the handicapable bathroom and hides it for his own usage.

When I bumped into the woman who lives next door, I asked if I could use either bathroom and she seemed confused. She said I could use the upstairs one, but why would I? I made up some lie story about being claustrophobic.

So today I took a gamble and snuck upstairs to shower. It was glorious! I smiled the entire shower. I even looked at the floor and noticed how shiny they were...the light was reflecting off of them.

Then, I got out of the shower.

Wet. I had flooded the ENTIRE bathroom. Like an inch of water filled it's huge floor. The shower curtain did not close all the way, pouring water into the bathroom. The shine on the floor that I had noticed, was amplified by the pool of water glistening above it. There was no toilet paper in the washroom (it is better to go to the bathroom downstairs but shower upstairs) and no hand towels. All I had was my beautiful, new towel. It had to take the bullet, mopping all the water, wringing it out in the shower because there was so much water I had to mop several times. I started to see the bathroom in a new light. The water had collected all the dust and hair from the floor, making a disgusting mass.

Needless to say, I have to change my tactics. I also have to buy a new towel, mine immediately went into the bin. Filth.

Maroon 5

When I'm wrong, I say it. (not) BUT I will admit that I was wrong about Reading. Today I fell in love with my city, it might be the best place I have ever lived...ever. I described it as living in downtown Toronto but if the city were built like Uptown Waterloo. Everything is accessible, there are so many stores, everything is in walking distance, and it is truly beautiful. 

My quality of life has sky rocketed because of:

-cobblestone streets

-small coffee shops filled with friends chatting

-winding roads

-beautiful architecture

-old churches and clock towers

-alleys filled with people

-warm, fresh air

It feels like I am constantly walking to the soundtrack of a Maroon 5 cd, easy listening, easy living.

Now I must commence Operation Friend. I must acquire one friend-ish by the end of this week, perhaps I will speak to people in my building (maybe not, anyone who can't clean a shower should not be alive let alone my friend, even if there is an "ish" attached).

One thing that will help me become friends with someone here, knowing the terminology/phrasing. I.E. SO many people say "are you ok?" and I immediately become defensive or awkward, not knowing how to respond. Sam told me that it is equivalent to our "How are you?" or"How ya doing?" So the correct response is to say "I'm fine, are you ok?" Vair vair weird, and hard to get used to. I am always thrown when people say it to me!

Anyway, Operation Friend has begun. 

The one that got away...almost.

Had a great party with Sam's friends for Halloween. I went as a peacock and must say I was proud of my costume. The party was so much fun and I loved how many Canadian girls there were! Sam has made quite a social network in London. I wish I was staying closer to her so it would be easier to get together. Some regrets from last night:
- copious drinks
- staying out until the wee hours of the morning

Results of my actions:
- 3 hours of sleep
- Intense stomach ache
- Bloating
- Assaulting a person's nostrils in the train (hence the name of the post)

Let me explain...I thought I was all clear and completely alone in the train car because I looked around repeatedly after the last stop. So the pressure in my stomach was at it's peak and I thought I could squeak one out before the next stop. Unfortunately, I was not alone, a man sat directly behind me and the chairs are so high in the train that he was also directly in my blind spot. After he coughed and sputtered a bit, we made it through.

I am all settled in my new place, the cleaning crew from Mom and Son Croatia Club, cleaned it today and did a fabbity-fab job. They even dusted the ledges on my windows. Mad skills. I also bought all these different sheets for a single bed, only to  realize that a single cannot be stretch over a double, even if you slightly slit the corners, ever so gently. I returned, shamed, to TK Maxx to get all new bedding.

Well that is all. PS if I don't skype you, it's because I just found out my pov internet USB stick from T Mobile can't handle the pressures of the high speed internet necessary for skype. It is probably how T-Pain invented auto-tune though...when I call someone I get all broken up and machine-like. So maybe I will try to skype people, only to record a new number one track.

Well I'm off to write my family a letter. Apparently that is my only form of communication now. It worked in WWI right?

Couch Crashing

SO I have been living on Samantha and Mark's couch for the past 4 days, with no end in sight. My flat aka the ol' shite hole has still not been cleaned. "The help" will not be available to clean it until Sunday now, as "Rosa" is out of town until Saturday. I have had to send some stern emails to explain my frustration. There is one ray of sunlight though, I should have my internet set up in the ol' shite hole tomorrow, so at least I will not be without the necessities when I arrive.
Mattress - no
Sheets - no
Lamps - no
Clothes hangers - no
Pillows - no
Internet - yes

Great success. Maybe by the year 2012, I will be settled in.

A Hungarian Girl in London

Today was the process of signing papers.
Went to the Hays office to finish my banking info and then went to the real estate agent to sign my life over to them for the next 6 months. I felt so accomplished because I located all the areas with ease and navigated through the streets like a real local. There was a definite bounce in my step as I set off, keys in hand, toward my new apartment.
The locals should have given me a red flag...

and by locals, I mean their mouths. The further away from the city centre I got, the less teeth people had. It got to the point that right on the corner of my street, a man was chompin' down a Big Mac with ONE snaggletooth in the front. I knew my apartment would be a gem too when I saw a giant pile of dog shit on my front stoop. Woo.

Anyway, the place was atrocious. There was no more pep in my step. The bed had stains, the sink didn't drain, the fridge on the inside was covered in mold, and the carpet had garbage/dirt all on it. Needless to say I slinked away to Sam's beautiful apartment in London. Luckily, the landlord was awesome and said he would get a cleaner in tomorrow to fix it all up before I moved in. I will be lingering on Sam's couch, much to Mark's happiness, for a little while longer!

Babies, Trains, and Cabbies

Got onto the plane without a problem, wandering to my seat and readjusting the contents of my carry on a few thousand times. I snuggled into my window seat and noticed that my seat mates hadn't shown yet. I was so excited to sprawl out, hoping that no one would occupy the other two seats beside me, giving me free range of bathroom access. Unfortunately, they showed last minute. I sat cuddled next to a three year old and her mother. The baby's feet were in my lap most of the time, with the exception of the wee hours of the morning, when her head finally collapsed, exhausted against my shoulder.

I got off the plane, collected my luggage and proceeded to the trains. After confirming 20 times with the lady at the counter that I had to take the train on platform four, it turns out it was the wrong train. I found out after an hour of steady riding. I had to hop on 6 separate trains to get home...with 75 pounds of luggage.

Lastly I arrived at the charming Clapham Junction. I went to the cab park and asked the taxi man (who I will now refer to as the heartless, hateful, devil man) if he knew how to get me to Sam's house. His response: "we will find it together." I should have been tipped off by the snake tattoo on his forearm, beady eyes, and the fact that he made me wait for him to finish his cigarette before loading my bags. I disappointed myself really, normally I am much more judgemental than that. Anyway, he drove me around the block several times then pulled over to check a map. When I enquired if he was going to keep the meter running, the heartless, hateful, devil man started yelling "not made of money are you princess? Can't wait for me to look something up, well I am afraid I can't help you." He got out of the cab, threw my 75 pounds of luggage into the street and pulled away. Devestation.

I had to navigate my way back to the taxi park, and start again. If you thought, hey maybe it would be easy to roll a suitcase along a cobblestone street, you are wrong. Also thank god heartless, hateful, devil man didn't ask me to pay after he threw his little baby fit, because he had run the meter up to almost £10. I paid the new cab driver only £4...he knew where he was going.

Lessons learned: babies make comfy but noisy seat partners, train ticket sales ladies are cunning tricksters, and never get in a cab with a man who says "we'll be able to find the street together."
All around, succesful fail at my first solo travel experience. This trip is shaping up to being an entire box-set of episodes, rather than just a season of Seinfeld.

I'm on my way

Today I make the big flight by myself to London, England.
Things I am looking forward to:
- reading a book and relaxing on the plane
- having some time alone
- feeling like an accomplished human being, compared to the sloth I have been for the past month
-watching movies on the plane
-sitting in a window seat to see the sky, etc... also prime head positioning for slumbers.

Things I am not looking forward to:
- sitting beside a sweaty/smelly person (potential)
- navigating my way through the London airport alone
- sitting in a window seat (bathroom usage is a minimum...peeing in my carry-on is definite)
- Not having internet/phone when I land, so if I am approached by bandits, I will have to fend them off myself.

My mom has of course given me detailed advice to survive during these times:
- say excuse me to those I sit beside when having to go to the bathroom on the plane...obv.
- don't tell strangers I am a tourist
- ask for help when I can
- don't leave bags unattended
-print out maps/train scheds, etc.

What my mom couldn't have told me but Criminal Minds luckily stepped in for her:
- don't help small children who claim they are lost...their father is waiting in a van outside to kill you
- don't help the handi-capable get into a van/lift their wheelchair into a van...they will push you into their vehicle, paralyze you, then dress you as a doll until they kill you
- don't go with someone who has a "record deal" for you...they will record you singing then kill you
- don't dye my hair blonde...someone will abduct me, kill me, and dump me in a river
- don't go for a jog...a group of cult followers will kidnap me, force me to be a part of their ritual, then keep my skull as a trophy
- don't go into the woods...death
- don't go onto a subway...murder
- don't answer the door to your apartment ... killers

Thanks Criminal Minds. I might just stay home now. Oh well, off I go. If you don't hear from me in a few days, send in the dogs or stay tuned to Criminal Minds, Wednesdays at 9pm on CTV.

Leaving on a Jetplane

So people have told me I have to start this blog while I am away to chronicle all of the mishappenings that occur to me. I am basically George Costanza in spirit, so there is guaranteed to be ridiculous times. I leave in three days and am gone for at least a year to Reading, England. 


Godspeed and see you on the other side.