Oh dear. I turn my back and look what happens. Student riots, Prince Charles trying to instigate a Green revolution, suicide bombers in Sweden, Wikileaks, man eating sharks, Madoff's son copycatting Damages, what else? Oh yes, my boss starting a conspiracy theory that his daughter, my pupil, doesn't know, at the age of five, any of the colours and numbers in English, ( more of this later, probably after Tuesday when I have to 'perform' for the parents and show them that 'hey, I'm a clown, I'm a teacher, a nurse, a mother, a psychiatrist! It's never good enough is it!! And yes, when your kids go home after an hour with me they will speak Spanish ). Just as I thought it could get better after a nice relaxing jolly week away in the mountains Piti rolls up today like a whirling dervish in the back of a police car. Henderson was hanging out the kitchen window, one of his many twilight hobbies of late, and asked the policeman if he was here for the effing bleeder next door and the police man said 'no', rolled his eyes and said 'the dog'. Mercedes wasn't in as I could hear the policeman hammering on her door. When he left I heard Anselmo, Mercede's husband flush the loo ( all mod cons here) and told H that I thought A was in and ignoring the P's calls. 'No,' said H. 'That must be the man upstairs on the third floor'. 'Oh, you mean the one you can hear unravel the loo roll before he flushes away. 'No,' I said . 'You will hear Anselmo coughing any second from now'. Cue pause.... and he did.
So there you have it. Never a dull moment here, there or anywhere. Boredom has kicked in and not content with a quiet life it seems most folk just want to kick off with or without reason. While students in London took it out on the Royals the effing bleeder ripped out all the letter boxes for the upteenth time and it looks like someone has done something with Piti. Maybe taken him off to the mountains and dumped him there but he made his way home, who knows.
Back to the boss. He reckons that his daughter, my pupil, doesn't know the colurs or numbers in English. This is after a year with another teacher, the lovely Hannah, and, I suppose, learning ONLY colours and numbers at school. If heads should roll it should be my boss for this inane remark. What he doesn't understand is that I will tell him after Tuesday's reenactment of what I do in class, that he shouldn't underestimate his daughter as she is a lot smarter than he thinks and that obviously she takes after her mother when it comes to barins ( brains even) and beauty. I might even ask him if he is sure the child is his, or I might let Henderson get away with that one. Chutzpah goes a lot longer if it involves him. If you think all this is a bit much then you haven't been exposed to the bullshit here. There comes a time when cleaning or working in a supermarket beckons if it means that you 'missed a bit there' or you haven't stacked those right' and the proof is there for all to see. Rock on.
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All those noises remind me of the time my wife and I rented an apartment for a summer holiday here in Spain before we became residents. The walls were so thin I could hear the woman next door combing her hair!
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