Assistant Voyager

House pride. Or lack thereof.

2010-08-14T22:17:00.008+01:00

Sure as I am that I've mentioned this before, I absolutely despise the notion of packing up one's belongings, only for them to have to be unpacked a mere couple of hours later at their destination.

Except my most recent case of gathering together my worldly possessions and relocating them involved many hours packing boxes, transporting them a mere 6 miles, and stacking them in an organised pile against a wall ready to be unpacked. Unpacking should be complete in around 6 months, if my record is anything to go by.

In case you aren't aware, I spent my first term at university living out of my suitcase, utterly convinced that the dons were soon to realise their mistake at offering me a place and send me packing. Naturally, I wanted to be in a position to just get the hell out of there as soon as that happened. Luckily for me (in more ways than one) that didn't happen and I did indeed unpack fully at the beginning of each term after that. Unsurprisingly, it took a while to master getting it all done in one fell swoop. 2nd term of first year, I was unpacked by around 5th week. Summer term, managed to do it before my first lecture.

Alas, you get the picture. I'm rubbish at packing and unpacking above a speed of one box per day. And as is the norm, blog posts, facebook and unnecessarily long emails take precedence over emptying that box that I keep stepping over en route to the kettle.

Life. Existence. Never the twain shall meet.

2010-07-03T17:57:00.005+01:00

My my my. I'd almost forgotten the existence of this page until a dear friend told me he'd read my archive as a direct result of his own boredom. It's been longer than a while, so much has been and gone in my life since April 2009 that I don't know how best to summarise it. But here goes:

I passed my teacher training course. I got a job. I moved to be able to do the job. I started the job. I now have a monthly salary amount. I completed my NQT year. It was a rollercoaster of emotions and events. I've committed to staying in the job for the foreseeable future. Oh, and I'm moving again. Except not because of the job, but because of me.

What a wonderful level 5 piece of work (if it were written in a foreign language, of course). A short text using 2 tenses and a description/opinion.

You see, this is my life now. Levels and sublevels; grades and grade boundaries. It saddens me that I have nothing to speak to friends about any more. Except for times past. Speaking about my present depresses me somewhat: partly because I am the only teacher in my friendship group (making it hard not to bore them brainless), partly because it's so damn hard to remember the good things about my career when so many negative things happen that put a real dampener on the whole shebang.

Nonetheless, I am alive - in medical terms. I prefer to regard myself as breathing and existing. When I come back alive in it's real (read: my preferred) sense, I'll be back to let you know.

The thrill of the ride?

2009-04-12T13:25:00.003+01:00

There are many things that we like. And many more things that we don't like. The pinnacle of discontent is in those tasks that we don't like but have to do anyway.

I am a great believer in gaining from our actions - be it on a personal, social or professional level. I just don't see the point if there is no gain involved. Now don't take this to mean that I want a certain level of personal satisfaction in everything I do. What I want is a certain level of satisfaction in everything I do, as long as it's satisfying somebody. It's when this isn't happening that I start questioning my motives for being where I am and doing what I'm doing.

Trouble is, the amount of dissatisfaction I seem to be facing on a minute-by-minute basis is surpassed by the satisfaction I get and see at the end of each lesson I teach. I have that side of things nailed, everyone is happy with what I'm doing and all I should be concerned with is jobhunting. Jobhunting should be the most stressful part of what I am doing and of what I will do in the very near future.

But instead I have to concern myself with educational research, critiques of teaching strategies and analyses of pupil performance in relation to those strategies. It is only this latter element that truly interests me, because it affects how I move on in the ensuing lessons. Research and critiques? Who gives a flying **** whether somebody thinks it's a good idea while someone else thinks it's bad? Who on earth can say they are genuinely concerned that there is little research and even less literature on their preferred teaching style? My view on things: if it works, great. If not, change it. Simple as that.

Ask any teacher (or any teacher I know at least) and they will tell you the same thing. The looks of complete amazement I've had off teachers who ask what is required of us lowly student teachers these days is something I should have photographed. And between us, we have come down to one mere conclusion: those deciding what student teachers should be doing are too out of touch with the demands of the education system to realise that living three lives in one is too much even for the most organised of people.

I wonder if society is liking the idea that people are turning to anti-depressants and suchlike in order to get where they want to go. Surely nothing should be made so difficult that it impinges on our health in such a way that we consider giving up just to save our souls? It would seem that those running the course are not concerned by it: "I would suggest counselling and a visit to the doctor who might be able to prescribe something to help you out so that you can put things in perspective." That is the latest advice I've been given from those above and beyond myself when I suggested that I may give up in order to save my soul.

Powerful advice. And something I am certainly taking on board. End result: unemployed, anti-depressant addicted oblivion. Who wants to employ a depressed teacher?

Nothing - the best product you can ever own

2008-11-23T19:02:00.004Z

A weekend of nothingness is somewhat cathartic. There's a reason why we feel better for doing nothing even though we should be doing something. And that reason is most likely to be that we can do it all tomorrow.

Except that, for the few that are like me, tomorrow very rarely comes. I'm slowly coming to the realisation that I'm a more practical person than I believed myself to be. By being somewhere, and doing something productive, I feel as though my existence on this planet is valid. Having to sit in front of a computer without any real motivation does not make my existence valid, however.

And sat in front of my computer I have been this whole weekend. It's made me feel very relaxed (i.e. I have done nothing else so I can't say I'm exhausted) but also very pensive (i.e. there is so much more I could be doing with my time). I now, at 7pm on Sunday evening, feel ready to tackle some work. However, it's too late to even try to begin to decide where to start. All day, I've been trying to motivate myself to do something that will get the adrenalin/productivity flowing which would hopefully result in work being done. Truth is, I'm not busy enough to force myself to do it all. Pressure is the name of the game I think.

Testament to this new theory begins this week. I'll be in school full time, and so time to do other niggly things is limited forcing me to do them as and when required. The clock is always ticking, but now it really kicks off as I try juggling 3 ways of life all at the same time (maybe 4, depending on how you look at it)...

Besides, the worst that can happen is that I have a few all nighters and skip a lot more meals, right...?

Hate the sin, not the sinner

2008-11-18T23:23:00.006Z

It has just occurred to me that my first blogging birthday passed me by without so much as a whimper. I don't know whether I'm indifferent about this, or whether I feel slightly overwhelmed by my inefficient commitment to the blogging sensation. I started out with 1001 things to say, suggest, complain about and record. And I seem to have complained about 1001 things, rather than there being a pleasant, humorous mixture.

And so, to try evening out the ratio of moans to smiles:

How does an elephant ask for a bun?

He smiles politely and says "Can I have a bun, please?"

Boom boom, as good ol' Basil Brush would say....

Humdrum and Rigmarole

2008-11-09T19:18:00.006Z

It's been a while my friends. And not a lot has changed. The ridiculously short assignment that I spoke of last time was finished (after three days of editing it to within the 10% allowance over the limit) and handed in. Since then I've been extremely complacent and taking advantage of iPlayer rather than focusing on my next looming deadline in just over a week's time.

That complacency is probably also the reason why I've been ill this weekend. As is always the case, I'm fit as a fiddle (or so it seems) until I'm able to relax, and then when I can actually enjoy myself for a few days, I feel like crap. Normally I just fight through the pain and keep on enjoying myself. But this weekend has been hell on wheels. I spent all day yesterday between the tap and my bed. Today I managed to get up and stay up, but I've not done anything productive. And trust me when I say that I have plenty I could be getting on with.

Somehow, though, during my hours of inactivity, I managed to read a few news items and columns. For the first time since I can remember, I read a column from start to finish, understood the majority of what it was talking about (political references and the like that I'm not too familiar with) and formed an opinion. All while I was comatose.

I wonder if I should be ill more often. Clearly I have an adverse correlation between health and productivity.

So long as the productivity is in activites I don't really need to be concerning myself with that is....

Progression Leads to Regression

2008-10-12T18:47:00.004+01:00

I think we can safely say that I'm well stuck in to the new chapter in my life. It's tough yet rewarding at the same time; interesting yet frustrating. How well I'm coping with returning to studentdom remains to be determined... some days I'm full of the joys of spring, others I want to be in a dead-end office job just because it brings in the wages at the end of each month. So currently, in-between looking through my window at planes flying precariously low on their final descent en route to the nearest airport, I'm bemoaning this new chapter.

In case I haven't explicitly mentioned, this new chapter is a PGCE (or teacher training, for you international readers). Now while the thought of teaching and igniting the sparks of motivation in the next generation ignites my motivation, I'm not so keen on the academic side associated with my course. Not because I don't understand it (unlike my undergraduate degree), but because I'm limited in words. For the first time since I was at school (really...) I'm reading and writing about stuff that invokes a reaction in me: a passionate reaction. The literature I read at uni caused a reaction, don't get me wrong, and it's definitely having a bearing on my reaction to the new stuff I'm reading now. In fact, I'm even able to link part of my undergrad course to my teacher training assignments.

As an aside, my course carries Masters credits, which basically means that if I get a mark of 50 or above in each assignment, I get 15 Masters credits per assignment that can be transferred onto a Masters course in education or specialist teaching. At the moment, I have no desire whatsoever to do a Masters in the near future, but I know I need to push myself to get that mark of 50 in each paper, just in case I change my mind. I am very prone to doing that. It's having this thought at the back of my mind that's causing me to struggle, I think, with getting back into the habit of writing critical essays.

Having spent all day today trying to write the introduction to my first assignment, I realised that I've already used up around 20% of my word count - and that's just in one side of A4, single spaced. I dread to think what my pre-editting total is going to end up being. The course handbook specifies:

Student teachers sometimes submit assignments that are far longer than required, in the mistaken belief that a longer assignment is a better assignment. In order to encourage student teachers to focus on the quality of their writing rather than on the length, the following penalties are applied.

Now whilst I agree with this in principle, when you look at the assessment criteria and the list of objectives for the assignment, the first thing you think is "how the hell will I write all that in so few words?!?" And seriously, I have no idea how I'm going to edit it down - 20% is taken up in my introduction...

I just had the brainwave of analogising something in the assignment, but quickly dismissed it because of the word count problem. And I've already forgotten what the analogy was. If it comes back to me I promise to write it down.

Then I'll bore you with the details.

Some you win, some you lose... At the end of the day it means next to nothing

2008-09-06T15:58:00.003+01:00

This week I returned to my new abode "up North" having had rather limited success with the estate agent about the cleanliness of my flat. Luckily, I can happily update you, my faithful readers, that just one of my complaints was attended to. I had numerous conversations with the office last week as a result of a letter of complaint - that was simultaneously a disclaimer for any damage they might try stinging me for at the end of my contract -, where I was told that the maintenance manager had inspected my flat and that it was clean and up to standard - my objective opinion is that he doesn't do much cleaning; my subjective opinion is that he didn't go there at all. So as it was so clean, how come I ruined three cloths cleaning the kitchen alone on Wednesday morning? Note that just cleaning the outside of the fridge (I couldn't bring myself to do the inside just yet) took one of those three...

Needless to say, the place is looking rather homely and relatively clean (although I'd like to give it the once over again when I move in permanently in the middle of next week) in comparison to what it was. Making me a lot more smiley than I was when I last posted, you'll be pleased to hear (read?).

So onto more pressing matters. Yesterday saw the first day of my PGCE course - the induction day. As induction days go, it was pretty painless. Menial introductions, reluctance to talk to one person for too long and forgetting names as quickly as they'd been introduced was pretty much the agenda for the day. As for the organisation, well it was pretty well managed I'd say. I've seen a lot worse and most of the problems were for the people who'd made late applications for the course. The only thing that affected almost everybody was that everyone had to print out their registration certificate they could get their student card and suchlike - which, of course, many hadn't as it didn't say at the time that we would need a print-out. So those who generally obsess about printing everything just in case, myself included, were OK and got through the process quickly enough with enough time left for a coffee before the next session.

Then the wonderful habitual repetition so commonly associated with inductions began. As you can imagine, it got rather tedious at times but as the staff and we all very well know, there'll be at least one person who still won't quite be up to speed after being told a gazillion times. I hope to God that person isn't me.

Dirty filthy things

2008-08-21T16:22:00.004+01:00

Students, that is. Not all, but most. I am just as guilty as the next person for leaving the washing up for a week, or not making my bed, or taking clothes off the airer so that I can wear them straight away.

But there's a huge difference between being very messy and being dirty. I took over my new flat this past week, and at first was rather pleased with everything - I had a nice spacious flat, very near the university campus with parking spaces nearby to boot. What else could I ask for? Then I drove up with my brother at the beginning of the week, with all the stuff that I don't need with me at home for the moment. What's the first thing he notices when we get there? That what I thought was mainly dust that had settled over the past few weeks since the last person moved out, was in fact actual muck and stains that shouldn't have been there for the new person moving in (be it me or anybody else).

There is currently a bunch of newspaper/magazine pages stuffed around a pipe in the bathroom. I haven't taken it away to see what purpose it is fulfilling - just in case there is a leak, or worse I manage to pull the pipe clean from the wall. That would be a bit of a big problem. Then there's the filthy oven and the rusty hobs. Just a matter of it being used over time, you might say. Maybe so, but there's burnt food in the mix there too. Then there's the broken blinds, the broken electric socket, the broken and disgustingly filthy shower curtain, the (now removed) hair and God knows what else all over the bath, the burn marks above the heater on the wall and other grubby marks on the walls (in rather strange places). And then, as I opened the door to get back in the car to come home again, the handle came off in my hand. What a welcome!

Put it all together and it makes for a very annoyed little Welsh girl. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting the place to be sparkling when I moved in, but I also wasn't expecting to have the give the place a deep clean before being able to unpack my things.

I've written a rather blunt (but exceedingly articulate) complaint to the estate agent, and submitted a maintenance request form (two in fact) full of the repairs that need to be done, that I shouldn't need to be dealing with. It can take up to a month for all this to be done, if anything gets done at all.

I'm sure I'll keep you updated on any progress (if any...) that's made. Don't expect any good news any time soon, though. We all know what these property types are like....

Let's go back to basics

2008-07-31T12:13:00.007+01:00

I'm fed up of hearing about the government's initiatives for 'going green'. Especially when it comes to transport. Hiking taxes onto fuel and air fares is meant to help deter the nation from using these modes of transport. But it's not working.

Watching Panorama the other day, there was a report about the electric car, which - if successful - should cut carbon emissions immensely. In principle, it sounds like a good idea. The government is advocating this, and the report looked into the poor facilities available for owners of the electric car. Local councils don't have the recharge points needed (not enough, or none at all in many cases). On top of this, the electric car can't travel long distances on full charge - something that needs to be worked on before the scheme can become commercially viable.

But if the electric car is deemed the saviour to our carbon emissions dilemma, surely the effect would be cancelled out by the huge increase in the amount of electricity the nation would be using? I mean, there's only so much CO2 reduction possible with this 'solution'. And the electricity companies (as well as increasing the cost of supplying electricity) try and lure us to give them business by telling us they are the best in terms of carbon emissions created by their input into the national grid. So, if we all switched electric companies to the lowest CO2 producer, and exchanged our cars for the electric car, would it really get us anywhere?

This is where I propose my contribution to reducing carbon emissions: public transport. As far as I'm aware (and please correct me if I'm wrong), the taxes we pay on fuel and in our air fares are supposedly meant to be pumped into improving the public transport system (rail and bus in particular). Unfortunately, I don't see this happening. In some ways I'm in a better position to judge on this, having experienced the efficiency of the French rail network. As well as being heavily subsidised by the French government, there are rarely any huge disruptions to timetables - except when they go on strike, but that's a whole different ball game. Forgetting the subsidy that our government could potentially provide (they may do already, I haven't looked into it enough to know if they do or not), if the extra taxes we as a nation are paying are going where they are supposedly intended to, surely we should have seen a vast improvement by now? Instead, we see rising train fares resulting in no chance of people leaving the car at home and travelling or commuting by train. Maybe this is where the subsidy could come in (if it doesn't already...) to try and influence the population of workers and travellers to abandon cars and planes in favour of trains and buses.

Do you agree with me? Am I looking at this from an angle which has already been exhausted? Or am I being biased because I've just bought a car and have the prospect of high petrol prices and traffic jams ahead of me? If I could wholeheartedly depend on the public transport system, I probably wouldn't have bothered with my new car. But given my experience particularly with the trains in this country, I refuse to take the risk of arriving at school an hour late because the bus was late. At least this way, I will be in control of my punctuality.

Decisions... decisions...

2008-07-22T19:06:00.003+01:00

Deciding whether to do one thing or another is tough.

Especially when you're rather indecisive when it comes to yourself (as opposed to what's best for other people).

It's taken me a while to decide to write this post, for starters. OK, so I've been a bit busy sorting myself out, but surely I had a spare ten minutes here and there to moan to you all (or to myself?) about the fears of getting fat, being skint and growing up. Seemingly I didn't...

Something I did make a decision about was the next chapter in my life. Which brought another bunch of indecisions with it. Where to live? Who with? What do I need in my new humble abode? How do I prioritise? Trust me, there were many more questions, and even fewer answers. Advice from family was scarce - "Do what you think is best" was the standard response from most people. And so I prioritised. And decided. And found myself a new home. "Result!" I hear you cry... Not so fast...

Now that everything but material things are sorted, I have to prioritise and decide on a more material (or superficial?) level. Do I want to get a car of my own? Indecision. I either don't want the extra expense, or will have trouble finding a parking space. In essence, I do want a car of my own. If I didn't, I wouldn't be in this dilemma. Then, there's the new-found dilemma (a somewhat stolen idea from my mate at Beetroot Soup) of whether to set up a new blog to chart the next year of my life and all its new experiences, or to just chart them here. Or to set up a blog with the same aim as Beetroot Soup, and keep Assistant Voyager to chart the random events that may or may not present themselves before me. I will still be assisting and voyaging, so maybe I should keep everything here until I'm not doing one or other of my name...

Indecision. You gotta love it.

The record shows I took the blows

2008-06-18T10:59:00.004+01:00

The title of this post sums it all up really. With just over a week left in my current position as a language assistant, I'm thinking long and hard about what this year has been to me. The optimist in me tells me I've grown as a person, learnt to take the rough with the smooth (moreso than before), and above all, I'm more focussed on what I do and don't want. However, the pessimist in me tells me that this may have been one of the worst years of my life, what with a nightmare flatmate, horrible children to teach and a lot of uncertainty over whether I am who I thought I was.

Luckily for me, I'm an optimist. But even though I look back positively on this past year, I won't be missing it too much once I get back to the UK. I'm going to miss my new friends, and I hope that like my last experience as an assistant, that we stay in contact and keep each other updated on developments in our lives - particularly our globe-trotting locations. And I guess I'm going to miss the sunshine, although this year's summer so far has been rather disappointing on Toulonian standards. Seems I brought the luck of the Irish, I mean Welsh, with me after all. But it can't have been that bad, I have a lovely tan to show for my life in the sun.

France will forever be a place that I associate with escapism and good times, but at the same time I could never commit to coming back here on a more permanent basis. Not until I'm old enough to retire, anyway. Yearly holidays to visit friends that are still here will be enough to satisfy my nostalgic yearnings, which will surely come to the fore in about a year's time.

How do I know this? Because I'm having many nostalgic episodes about my time at university these days. When I left a year ago, I swore to high heaven that it would be a long time before I was ready to go back. I actually visited for a few days in February and it was amazing, but I wasn't quite ready to subject myself to the memories of finals and the like. But now I am ready for that - I'm ready to think about and recount the stress and difficulty of finals. I guess that's what graduation is for - to close the book on the best and worst years of your life, for whatever reason.

And so, as I foray into a summer of the unknown before continuing my life path in September, I'd say this year has done at least one thing for me: it's let me go back to being me.

Damn it, I've forgotten what I came in here for...

2008-06-10T16:13:00.003+01:00

Knowing when to stop or give up has never been easy for me. Knowing when to give myself a kick up the backside and get started has also never been easy. I seem to be one of those people who sits in limbo forever and a day, thinking about starting something or finishing something else that I managed to get started without actually taking any action.

Even now as I sit here and lament my state of limbo, I have unfinished business. I don't even want to think about the unstarted business. There is a reason why I can't get things done, though. It's the fear of having nothing to worry about getting started or finished respectively once the to-do list is all checked off.

I live for my to-do lists. The longer the better. That way, crossing off the half the menial tasks that get done makes me look like I've had a productive day. Unfortunately, those menial to-dos probably only took a total of about twenty minutes to actually carry out. Leaving me with the time consuming to-dos that have been on the list since the dawn of time. One day I'll be done with to-do lists. I'll go back to my infant days where I stored every detail in my brain and got it all done. Something went wrong in my teens, I lost the memory function in my brain - or at least the function reduced itself to a selective rather than functional memory.

What irks me most are those little distractions that make me question my sanity. Take my little detour to the supermarket on my way home from work. I went in for the purpose of buying some envelopes. I came out with a nice full bag of groceries, but no envelopes. The groceries will come in very handy, given that my shelf in the fridge is extremely bare en ce moment, but the fact that I went into the shop for one single thing, and came out with many things except that one single thing really drives me up the wall.

The onset of some debilitating illness that affects me for the rest of my life? Or a simple case of consistent superficiality - the filling of my stomach over the completion of 1001 administrative tasks? You tell me. Because I keep forgetting to think about it.

Figuring it all out

2008-05-31T10:59:00.003+01:00

Yesterday I made a first in my life. For the first time ever (and this is rather shocking given my addiction to the internet) I legally downloaded my first two music albums. And what a buy they were! After taking what seemed like an age to get all the tracks to add to my music library in media player, I cracked it and have been playing them ever since.

I'm not sure what I'm most proud of though; the fact that I was a law abiding citizen, or the fact that I downloaded music by someone I found randomly on YouTube about two weeks ago and who a lot of my music savvy friends haven't heard of. I'm usually the last person to discover good music - I'm not the biggest MySpace surfer in the world. Usually I'm the person being introduced to random acts through MySpace and YouTube links over MSN.

So for once, I'm the one doing the discovering. And boy, the feel good goes a long way.

Tick tock... tick tock... I've only got four minutes, I mean weeks, to save the world

2008-05-31T00:00:00.006+01:00

Time flies when you're having fun. I hate to admit it, but it's damn well true. After all the stress and horror of September to May, now that I've started to really enjoy myself and be able to appreciate my situation, I suddenly only have a month left to do so before moving on.

Yes, dear reader, I said enjoy myself. You see, I got out of the horrible situation I'd let myself stay in for 7 months, and moved into a new flat with a new, lovely (and, consequently, English speaking) flatmate. And the past month has been utter bliss. I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I seem to only be able to write when frustrated/angry. I don't often feel motivated enough to write when everything's going good, even though I should push myself to write sometimes, just to be able to say that I've done something productive with a small chunk of my time.

And so the time has come to start stressing about the next step. Not about the uncertainty of the future, but it's near certainty thanks to the way I've mapped it out. And although it's what I want, and the only thing I can honestly see myself doing, it's still very scary. I don't know how well suited I'll actually be to teaching, but at least I'm finding out. Face the fear head on, that's how to overcome it, right? It better be.

But, the silver lining is cracking. Despite being much happier both in myself and my surroundings, I still manage to waste a horrific amount of time. It's not like I don't have a to-do list as long as my arm, so why do I do it? I can't decide between it being a result of having nothing to do once it's done, or just being too damn lazy to get on with it in the first place. Either way, it has to get done. All I need to do is push myself to do it.

I'll let you know how many boxes I manage to tick.

Je n'aime que moi

2008-04-18T10:13:00.002+01:00

My hiatus got cut short. Within an hour of their return I was upset and going stark raving mad trying to stop myself from murdering one of them.

I even had a 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' moment after the disastrous reunion, albeit in a much less romantic fashion: I got off the bus and walked through the streets without realising it was raining. Heavily. So I got extremely wet. At least it cheered me up, anyway.

If I can take anything away from this horrible situation I've been living in of late, it's that I've learnt a lot about myself. I think I can look at things less subjectively now, for want of trying to see what I've done and how it might aggravate the atmosphere in my "home". So at least I can walk away from the situation knowing even though my head's been messed up in more ways than one this year, I'm a more encompassing person for it. I was never highly intolerant before, but on occasions I would make false judgements based on one or two encounters. Now I like to think that I live by that age old saying "time will tell". Because, after all, the passage of time allows us to accept and explore new people and things, and that time does tell us exactly how we feel about something or someone having changed our minds several times throughout the course of any given period.

Time teaches us who we are, and where we figure in the grand scheme of things. Which is probably a good thing. It's nice to think that I'm the centre of the universe from time to time - even if it is a little selfish of me.

Hiatus

2008-04-14T10:26:00.003+01:00

After an extremely stressful few weeks, a two-week break is gratefully welcomed. I have a little break away in a different place, I come back, and do nothing. Doing nothing spills over from one day to the next, until suddenly I realise that I haven't left the flat properly in almost a week.

Some would find this worrying. Before I went away last weekend, I'd have agreed. But at the moment, it couldn't be better: I don't have to go to work, where I get stressed out, and my flatmates are away, thus relieving the stress of my homelife. This hiatus is amazing, and I've made a remarkable recovery. To a certain extent.

Half-way through the last school holiday of the academic year, once I go back to school next week, I will be working for ten weeks straight. There is a long weekend at some point in May, but that can hardly be regarded as a break, as such. But next week also marks the return of my flatmates, one of whom will probably darken my mood and let me sink back into the near-depression I experienced just before this holiday.

There was a time when I was this confident, outspoken individual who was clear about who she is and where she's going. Now, when my flatmate is around, I feel like a shell of my former self. I feel that I should be conforming to what my flatmate questions me on with regard to my approach to how I look. Then, I get flashes of anger that I'm even questioning whether I have the wrong approach. Everyone has their own opinions on this subject, but the bottom line is, whatever makes the individual happiest portrays the best image to others. And the fact that I don't give a stuff if I have a hair out of place to go to work, or that I'd rather have an extra half hour in bed every morning than to get up and cover up a few flaws on my face says a lot about my character. Or at least I thought it did. I guess it still does, in a sense that even though I feel much less confident about myself these days, my stubborn streak hasn't faltered, and so I'm sticking to my guns as a form of rebellion, protest.

I wasn't broken before I came here. But somehow in my mind I'm trying to fix myself, trying to bring myself round to my flatmate's way of thinking. Then I get all upset about it and realise that I'm being silly even contemplating changing who I am because of someone I've known for less than three months. And so I carry on as I am, resulting in this merry-go-round of emotions that is cutting me up but also making me stronger, bit by bit, insult by insult. The only thing that rings true in my mind these days is something my mother has said all my (and her) life:

"Take me as I am, or not at all."

That may sound stubborn and uncompromising. But all it says is that I have my principles, my reasons, my own mind. If a person can't respect that, then maybe that person isn't worth getting to know and becoming friends with.

Teething problems

2008-03-31T19:05:00.002+01:00

Everything has a dodgy first few days/weeks/months/years. Babies have those horrible few weeks of pain as their first teeth start cutting through. Businesses have a worrying first few months wondering whether they're going to be a success or not. Heathrow's T5 is having the first week from hell.

But why? BAA have been banging on for months and months that T5 was going to be the best air transport facility in the world; that it was going to be the most efficient terminal of them all at Heathrow. Yet they've managed to cancel upwards of 400 flights in this first week, with no real idea when the chaos will end. A backlog of 28,000 bags in transit just makes the situation even more farcical. State of the art baggage system that can process 12,000 bags per hour? I can see a bit of blame shifting in the near future, what with the considerably higher luggage allowance for long-haul flights and all that.

Did anyone look at the logistics of moving the location of all BA's operations in one go? With all that's gone wrong since opening to the public last Thursday, it makes you wonder. But then, Eurostar moved all their operations from Waterloo to St. Pancras over one night, and as far as I recall it went without a hitch. Granted that wasn't on the scale of T5, but honestly, if a load of trains can find their way from one side of London to the other between the hours of daylight, surely a couple of planes can veer their way from one spot of tarmac to another within the same hectare? It's not as though T5 is out of the way of the rest of the airport now, is it?

The question on everyone's lips now? 'Will BA and BAA be fined for the chaos this hideously expensive venture has caused?" Personally, I think they should - Network Rail gets fined for having more than a certain number of late running or cancelled trains, why shouldn't BA/BAA be subject to the same? I know thousands more people are affected by late running or cancelled trains every day than they are delayed or cancelled flights, but it's the principle I'm getting at. In such a short period of time, after such high-profile (and, in hindsight, overhyped) publicity in the build-up to the opening of T5, the parties involved have really shot themselves in the foot. Maybe the government will shoot them in the pocket now... it won't buy back any time lost by all those poor poor passengers, but it'll hopefully make BA think twice about new terminals in the future...

Je suis sérieuse, je ne veux jamais boire comme ça encore! Promis...

2008-03-30T11:15:00.004+01:00

It appears I may have learnt my lesson. I know it's the classic line when one suffers a hangover, but I honestly think the years of my mother telling me to drink more responsibly and stop bingeing may have paid off. So, as the clocks spring forward and I have an extra hour of daylight to call my own each evening, I've made a summer time resolution: gone are the days where I'll drink just for the sake of it; arrived are the days where I know my limit, and don't go past them, no matter what the occasion.

It's so simple to write down, and say, but after the torture that was yesterday's hangover, I think this may be one resolution that I'll manage to keep. And I may keep hold of my principles en même temps that way too. For instance, in the bar we were in on Friday, the bar staff had many gimmicks which were not too funny at the start of the night. A few cosmopolitans later, and they were hilarious. Why? Thinking back now, I'm totally ashamed that alcohol changed my view. But as is always the case, it did.

And so now the main goal in life is to enjoy it, savour it, and - most importantly - remember it. Summer will mean no hanging around, the sunshine will motivate me to get things done that have needed doing since forever. Getting that oh-so-desired beach bod won't happen if I have many more wild night like Friday, will it? Once I open up the shutters and let the sunshine in that is. And then I have to get over the shortage of sleep imposed upon me by daylight saving. That gives me an excuse for continued procrastination for the next week or so, at least.

Saying goodbye to winter always makes me feel good though. Living on the Cote d'Azur, I had the good fortune of welcoming spring around three or four weeks ago. Slowly but surely, the woolly jumpers and winter jackets are finding their way to the back of the wardrobe, and the pretty floral spring/summer outfits are coming to the fore. I surprise myself by how much I smile just at being able to wear something pretty to match the nice weather, as opposed to wrapping myself up in as many layers as possible to match the dismal cold weather of the winter months.

Boo winter. Vive l'été! Just let me wake up first, eh?

Tears on my pillow

2008-03-26T09:18:00.004Z

It takes quite a lot for me to get so upset about something that it makes me cry.

But this morning, my flatmates managed it with ease. Not content with constantly disturbing my sleep pattern with their bedroom antics, it would seem that my contribution to the household isn't quite how they would like it. My rent is paying for their utility bills (at their own admission, might I add), and I myself contribute as much as is physically possible to the chores, despite being awkwardly confined to my bedroom most of the time (from where I'm writing this post).

They went away on Sunday morning, and returned last night. Rather than notice that I'd done a lot to clean up the kitchen, which is filthy as a result of the renovations they started last week - namely knocking down interior walls resulting in an insane amount of dust everywhere, particularly in the unprotected kitchen -, this morning they hang on the fact that the bathroom and toilet floor hasn't been mopped. Yes, that's right, because of all the dust throughout the rest of the flat, the bathroom and toilet floors don't stay clean for long. And so given that I was out all day Monday and working yesterday, the bathroom and toilet floors haven't been mopped since Sunday. Oh dear, that should surely result in a penalty rent rise, don't you think?

Now, normally I would just take this on the chin, and grin and bear being called "evil", "a villain", "lazy". But this morning that's just not possible. Not when I had to use my mobile phone to guide me through my apartment when I got in last night so that I didn't walk into the fridge or get electrocuted by hanging live wires. This is the last straw. There seem to be no niceties passed between me and them any more: our only topic of conversation is whether or not I've done the housework in the last six hours.

J'en ai marre. J'ai ras-le-bol. Je n'en peux plus. Faites-moi quitter cet apart. J'en ai marre de ce putain d'inquiétude. Mais qu'est-ce que je peux faire en fait? I don't have a plan B...

This isn't cold feet... It's more a case of frozen limbs...

2008-03-25T09:18:00.003Z

You know when you decide to do something, you put the wheels in motion and get all excited about the next step that you've manufactured for yourself in life's path? You start daydreaming about how good it's going to be, how good you're going to be and how it's going to shape you for years and years to come. And then one niggling doubt creeps in and the dream's over.

You start wondering whether it's going to be as good as you first thought; whether you're going to be as good at it as you thought you might be initially; and above all, you question whether you're ready.

Am I ready to go through the paces of the part of life commonly termed as "growing up and settling down"? Am I ready to have to prove myself in ways other than academic? Am I ready to grow up? Am I mature enough to go through training and then hold down a job? Have I reached the stage where I'm ready to "settle down" should the opportunity arise?

Who knows. All I know is that I'm questioning whether I've manufactured the right next step for myself. This isn't nerves or cold feet.

This is downright fear.

Full Throttle Ahead

2008-03-20T17:00:00.003Z

It appears I'm taking steps in the right direction. The future may not be orange, but it's most certainly bright.

What am I talking about, you say? I speak of the next chapter in my life, once my time as an assistant comes to an end. It took me long enough to decide to apply for teacher training, and it took even longer to arrange an interview. But arranged it I did, and offered a place I was.

Then came the hardest part: accepting the place. I heard last Tuesday that I'd been accepted at my first choice training provider. And it took me until yesterday (a whole 8 days later) to make a firm acceptance. All the forms have been filled in and sent. And now it's down to one key element: organisation; it's key so that I can breeze into my new life in Angleterre du nord come September. This is going to be hard. Not only am I pretty much incapable of organising myself more than a few days in advance, there's the disadvantage that not much help is provided to aid me throughout the process. Nope: it's all down to me.

So as I embark on the first step towards the aforementioned organisation, namely getting all my crap sorted so everything is in order, just do one thing for me:

Make sure I'm doing it!!

New beginnings

2008-03-18T16:58:00.004Z

After some stern words from my loyal readership, I've decided to come back to the fray and try blogging a bit more often. Part of me stopped for fear that I was a little too negative in my blog, my most popular label is 'moan' taking poll position with 10 out a possible 18 entries. Rather depressing, don't you think?

Trying to be positive is painful. My creative juices flow when I'm in a bad mood. In fact, I do most things best when I'm in a bad mood: psychoanalysis, anyone? I wonder what it says about me, about my personality, about everyone that knows me... Jack shit, most probably, but it would be interesting to see what Jack Shit came up with...

Truth of the matter is, I only blogged when something or someone was getting on my tits. My lack of blog action is not down to me being more tolerant, or my not being pissed off so much - that's no different to what it was two months ago - it's actually a result of me being continually annoyed. Nothing's changed, and I didn't want to inflict my negative vibes on everyone who reads this...

Excuses out of the way, the bottom of the barrel reason is that I've been too damn lazy. Or preoccupied elsewhere. The past two months has panned out roughly as follows:

continuing my assistantship
trip home to visit friends and family
trip to London to see a show and make a bit of a tit of myself in front of one of the stars
back to France to carry on with the assistantship
being told mind-numbingly irrelevant things by flatmate (who thinks I don't understand much of what she says, hence the need to demonstrate that broccoli isn't cauliflower)
just about sorting out where I go once this is all over

And so you see, nothing much has happened since I last posted on my high-brow, controversial, reader attracting blog. And even less has happened that's been worth writing about.

Now that I'm back though, I'll try and hang around to answer any niggling queries anyone may have...

A sign of the times

2008-01-22T20:03:00.000Z

Maybe I'm getting old. Or maybe I'm just irritable. Or even plain impatient.

I speak of the mentality of the kids I teach. Particularly the one older pupil that I give private lessons to. I guess the kids at school are young enough to ask questions that annoy me. But my private student doesn't seem to use common sense or his initiative at all.

Yesterday's lesson was a prime example: I set him an exercise, and he wrote something that was wrong and crossed it out to correct himself. He turned to me and asked if it mattered that he had crossed out an answer on the page. Bear in mind that these lessons are essentially informal, in that I pretty much decide on the spot what areas are going to be covered in the hour that I'm paid to take charge of this boy. Now also consider that this boy comes along to my flat, uses my paper (because he 'forgets' to bring an exercise book/pad of paper of his own every week), and my pens to write with, and he asks if it matters that there's a crossing out on the page. I'm all for neat work, but come on! There is a rather large grey area when it comes to how one gauges neatness.

So the kid isn't big on making his own decisions. Not exactly a big deal, you may think. But then there's the frustration of him being reluctant to actually think for himself during this hour that he is with me.

I set him something to gauge what he knows and doesn't know, and explain that he just has to give it a go so that I don't tell him something that he already knows - what's the point of that? But because I term some things differently to the text book he uses at school, he assumes he's never done it. And for the record, I usually do the first one as an example to show him, so he can see what he has to do.

So I leave him to it while I go potter about with coffee/coke/juice etc. I come back, he tells me he's finished, and he's not even attempted it half the time, prompting a conversation (in French) along the lines of:

Him: I'm not sure I'll get it right.
Me: You pay me to tell you if you've got it right or not. And if not, I'll explain it to you so that you know in future.
Him: But I'm not sure.
Me: Try. You learn more like that, than from being told what to do with you having made no effort.

And so he gives it a go. And eight times out of ten, he's bang on the mark.

So is it shyness? Laziness? A genuine fear of being wrong? Or maybe he's trying too hard and making it more complicated than it actually is? Whatever it is, I'm struggling to find a way to get him to work things out for himself. Why make it simply a lesson in English when I can teach him lifelong skills (namely multitasking) at the same time? Thinking and working are generally considered to go together anyway, aren't they?

It takes two to tango

2008-01-12T10:47:00.000Z

The other night I watched Crash for what must be the fifth or sixth time since I bought it on DVD. I also saw it at the cinema when I was living in France two years ago as a late showing as it had won the Oscar for Best Picture.

What surprises me about the film is I find myself sympathising with different characters each time I watch it. There is something that makes me despise the subject content of the film, but at the same time, it is something that has been addressed with sensitivity and attention to both sides of the story. Look at the plotline on the part of Anthony/Peter. Anthony portrays himself as the typically opressed black man, expecting to be discriminated against because of his skin colour. Peter takes a more optimistic view, suggesting that Anthony is being oversensitive. When we are first introduced to these two characters, I'm inclined to sympathise with Peter rather than Anthony. Anthony is simply feeling sorry for himself and because of the history of black people, he simply lives up to the stereotypes associated with his race. Especially when he and Peter then carjack Sandra Bullock and Brendan Fraser's characters.

At this point the shoe is on the other foot. We are not sympathising at all with Anthony, and much less with Peter than before, until Sandra Bullock's near-monologue ranting about how as a white woman fearful of two black youths she feels the need to remain silent for fear of being labelled a racist should she cross the street or look the other way. This, in essence, totally backs up everything that Anthony has already said - particularly when Jean (Sandra Bullock) insists on the locks being changed yet again because the locksmith is not white. But he's not black either. And this really confuses me.

Where is the line drawn? When are the barriers constructed thanks to stereotypes going to be broken down? It is these persisting stereotypes that means the issue of racism persists. But one stereotypical image of racism is very very wrong: that which depicts a racist being white. A racist can just as easily be black. Just look at Anthony in 'Crash' and you'll see what I mean.

Broken suitcase, Broken faith

2008-01-08T19:26:00.000Z

It's amazing how one little incident can put you off something for a while. After managing to hump my heavy suitcase on and off trains without so much as a relatively big knock, you'd think that big strong baggage handlers would manage to take care of it.

But, for the first time ever, I reclaimed a suitcase damaged to the extent that to use it again with an airline I will have to sign a liability disclaimer. Upon reporting the damage on my arrival in Nice last Friday, I was told that I have seven days to get someone in a suitcase-selling shop to sign and give me a certificate that my current suitcase is irreparable, and to buy a new one, then send the airline a bunch of paperwork, including said certificate.

Now, buying a new one is not a problem. I walk into the shop; I decide which one I want; I tell the man/woman; I pay for it; I take it home.

But how and where on earth do I get a certificate of irreparability? It's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a while - I mean if it wasn't damaged, surely the man at the airport who I complained to would have been able to tell me "You're wrong there love, there's nowt wrong with it"?? The fact that he didn't (and he did inspect the damage) kind of presupposes that I'm not lying, does it not?

So now I'm in a quandary as to whether to bother pursuing a claim. The airline does point out that it's liability is limited and that I might be better off pursuing it through my own travel insurance instead. But for the sake of a suitcase, I'm not going to do that. What narks me is the principle that I can't take all my possessions on board with me, but by checking them in they're not safe. Granted, this has happened to hundreds of thousands of people over the past however-many-years-of-commercial-air-travel, but until it actually happens to you, it's hard to really imagine how much it actually pisses you off.

Needless to say, I'll be avoiding this airline at every opportunity in future.

And so it is...

2007-12-07T22:55:00.000Z

...Just like they said it would be.

Well, almost. So I feel very much settled into my new (former) way of life. I even find myself smiling about things that would have seriously pissed me off this time last year. Although I'm frowning about things I've never had to worry about before (note previous post). But that aside, it's shaping up to be a pretty good end of year. I'm even starting to regret my haste in booking flights over the holidays. If I'd have hung in there a little longer, I may have done something a little different this year. But two weeks at home will not go amiss. Not by a long shot.

So today I was 'visited' as a means of seeing if I'm doing my job properly. Whilst receiving constructive criticism like a real trooper and taking on board suggestions to improve the structure of my lessons, I was not in the slightest amused at having the content of what I've been teaching questioned. And so I rather literally imploded in the staff room at school today, telling the woman (who I had never met before, despite her being my "main contact") very calmly (whilst going demented inside) that what I had taught is actually what we say in English. And in response she said "Well in the grammar books I teach with, it says this..."

Maybe it's just because of what I learnt about for the Linguistics part of my course at uni, but having something written down in black and white doesn't mean in any way that what you see is what you get. It could be that you never got nor never will get what is written before your eyes. How many times was there a mistake in a grammar book at school? Rules change. Not overnight, but they change. Stupid woman today was clearly ignorant of that fact.

And there we have it. The dampener to a good week. And that one lemon too many that could make this month really bitter.

Roll on the holidays. At least then I'll be with people who speak the way I do. And not from the rules they learnt in a book.

Arrested Development

2007-11-28T12:20:00.000Z

So... developments Toulon end: my second American flatmate is moving out. She has been extremely underhand and sneaky about it all, I have to say, saying one thing when I'm around and then another to everyone else. She made out to me that she couldn't afford to keep living in this apartment, to which I was sympathetic given my own low monetary funds since I stopped receiving my student loan. Then she proceeded to tell me that she found it difficult to live with me sometimes because I give the impression that I want to be on my own and not to be disturbed. I asked for examples of occasions when this had happened, after apologising and stressing that it was not an intentional action, to which she replied: "Well, mainly during the week when you get in from school." Now, excuse me if my blatancy is in overdrive here, but isn't it completely normal that I want an hour or two to myself after being at school all day, having got up at 6.30am, left the apartment at 7.30am and started teaching at 8.30am? Needless to say, I got rather upset that she was insinuating that it was my behaviour that was leading her to move out whilst maintaining to me that the main factor is financial.

I then found out days later that her reasons for leaving that she had given to everyone else were in fact what she insinuated to me. She led our French flatmate/landlord to believe that we had argued, which he found rather strange because he finds me quiet and pleasant to live with (according to his girlfriend). I was asked if I could think of anything other than the reason she had already given me that might have made her mad with me, but I couldn't think of anything. Then, on Friday evening, K (another assistant) came around and she, H (French flatmate's girlfriend) and I think we worked it out. Turns out that she first mentioned moving out while I was at home during the holidays at the beginning of this month - which was just after the "rooting through my personal effects" incident, which I thought had been sorted immediately. Clearly it wasn't. So rather than respect and accept my displeasure at her having invaded my privacy, she took that and multiplied it ten-fold in her mind to the point where she believes I'm in a bad mood all the time.

Naturally, I beg to differ. Yes, I was unhappy before going home for that break during the holidays. But I came back refreshed and with a much better outlook on my time here than I had on the outward journey. And I completely refuse to let her tell people otherwise - if she can tell other people that there is a problem, then she can tell me. I was totally oblivious to my 'unsociable' behaviour. After the DVD incident, she knew full well that I am the type of person that prefers to air my feelings in certain respects. She clearly cannot handle my blunt, direct nature. And that, I'm afraid, is her problem, not mine. I did all I could to make her feel welcome and help her settle in, despite my own unease at the beginning of this experience. My efforts were clearly wasted.

On the upside, this weekend I attended the belated birthday party of one of the assistants and had lots of fun. And then on Saturday, I went to a semi-belated Thanksgiving dinner and had lots of fun helping with cooking the meal and getting into the Christmas spirit. I say Christmas spirit, as the whole day was identical to what Christmas Day is going to be like at home. I can't wait. It reminded me of what I like about Christmas: being around family and friends, having a good time and feeling happy. I was starting to become cynical as to whether the spirit of Christmas still existed, but thanks to this Thanksgiving I'm certain that it does. Now we just need to abolish the commercialism of Christmas, then the festivities will really have meaning for everybody. In that respect, I'm jealous that the British people don't celebrate Thanksgiving.

Refreshment Best Served Cold

2007-11-08T15:57:00.000Z

And so having cracked and spent a week at home, beyond all (my own) expectations I came back. Unfortunately, I have hit a new low. Gone are the days of entering random URLs and seeing what appeared on the computer screen. Now it's all about the refresh icon, and counting how many times I have to click on it for something to change.

Another way to put it is, send an email/facebook message, then refresh every minute to see how long it takes for the correspondent to reply. In my case, it's an eternity. Not that I'm not grateful for a reply per sé, but in my boredom I find myself cursing people for having lives which causes their delay in replying.

I need to get a life. That's all there is to it. I am lifeless - socially speaking. I assure you all that I am actually alive in a medical sense (i.e. I'm not speaking from beyond the grave). But being skint and living in an expensive place takes its toll. And it's a choice between refreshing the computer screen, watching MTV programmes dubbed badly in French or watching Sky News (which I discovered is now part of our digital TV package upon my return to French land yesterday). As you can probably tell from the above, I choose option 1. Option 3 comes a close second, but hearing about the horrible things happening in the world in my mother tongue just makes me sink lower into the hole I've dug for myself (read: the hole I've formed in my chair in front of my computer).

I just wish that someone would give me a kick up the bum and get me doing something that needs doing. Applications for permission to foray into the world of employed people following this (up to now harrowing) experience need to be completed. I haven't even entered my name on a single one. Not that I have more than one to complete at the moment. I dream of applying for six jobs, in the hope that at least one establishment will take me on.

Reality is, I'm just too happy to click Refresh. As you may be doing now in the hope that what you're reading suddenly turns into something interesting.

Save the world, and my bank balance at the same time

2007-10-28T21:15:00.000Z

I'm not the biggest of environmentalists. Not at all. But I do use my common sense when it comes to enviromental issues. So silly pointless tasks like leaving the lights on when nobody's home and letting the water run while cleaning my teeth are just not done.

But these tasks are not seen to be quite so nonsensical to others. Apart from the monetary cost of leaving a light on for two hours while one goes into town, leaving the flat empty(albeit an energy saving light bulb, but it's the principle that matters here), there is the damage those two hours of wasted energy is having on the environment when there is no justification for it. Why light up a whole apartment for the amusement of passers-by outside? Let's create our own interpretation of the Blackpool Illuminations, each and every one of us.

It's all well and good to be shocked at the effects climate change is having on our planet, but acting to do something to attempt to counteract it has to be taken as seriously. I just find that many people who criticise energy waste etc. are the front-runners in terms of the size of their carbon footprint. When will they learn that putting glass bottles in a special bin does not equate to immediate action to save the planet?

Recycling is a long-term process; turning off the lights is in the here and now. How much does really it take to flick a switch and immerse a room in darkness?

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

2007-10-20T14:44:00.000+01:00

To be in a country that I love, speaking a language that fascinates me and doing a job that gives me a great sense of satisfaction is a wonderful thing. Unfortunately, I continue to be of the mindset that it's not enough.

My first week of teaching has gone really well. All my classes are enthusiastic, some much more than others, but they listen and they are learning. Already. To start with, they insisted that they knew not a single word of English, other than "hello", but come the end of the first lesson they had aready acquainted me with snippets of what they'd learnt last year from the previous assistant. That makes me feel good too, as it means I can build on what they know, and not teach the same thing eight times per week.

In addition to my first successful week of teaching here, there is my growing confidence in my French skills. I'm learning more and more each day about the culture of France. My vocabulary is building, and I even added the 'French Word of the Day' application on facebook. Sounds like a right cliché, but I've actually learnt a few words through that. Being called "une vraie pro" with regard to my oral French skills is also very much an ego-increasing element to my time here.

And let's not forget, I'm in a country where strike action is the norm for any employment dispute of any calibre - something that at some point this year will work in my favour, no doubt. Just as long as I'm not on an overnight train when an impromptu strike begins...

But for those three positive elements, there are two negatives (isn't there always?).

My previous experience as an assistant was the way it was largely due to the tight support network we assistants set up for ourselves. That hasn't happened here, I can say that I have a small network around me, which is absolutely lovley don't get me wrong, but considering that there are around 25 assistants living in and around Toulon, I find it really hard to say I'm happy the way things are when nobody has reciprocated the efforts made for everyone to get together since we all "settled" in and began our new roles in our schools. Maybe it's because I live further out from the centre ville than everyone else, but I can't help feeling that I'm being left out somehow (me and my flatmate who is also an assistant) - if someone wants to post pictures on facebook of a bunch of people at the beach in mid-October, then that's fine, but don't make friends with a person who could have also gone to the beach, had she been invited...

And then there's the homesickness that lingers still. Part of me feels it's because of the left-out sentiment that I have. Another piece of me just thinks I made a mistake in coming back to France - I was perhaps a little (or very) naive in thinking that the experience would be pretty much the same as before. "Lightening doesn't strike twice in the same place" I thought when I applied, which prompted me to apply to a different region with a different age group to before. I got half my wish, and the elements that have stayed the same are the ones that are making me happiest at the moment. Only the fact that I'm not living alone has been a change for the better. Anything else that has changed is making me very miserable indeed.

"A change is as good as a rest"? Like hell it is. And so I've cracked. I've bought a return ticket (very important that I stress it is a RETURN ticket) to the UK during the holidays. It cost me a fortune. But I think it'll be worth it. Going back to what I know should help me see what I have amongst the unknown, right?

Public Privacy

2007-10-17T14:11:00.000+01:00

Oh how easily one's welcoming nature can be taken for granted.

"Make yourself at home!" "Of course you can take some fruit for yourself!" It's human nature to want to be accommodating and helpful, isn't it?

It's my human nature, at least. I do all I can to make someone feel at home, offer them food/use of computer/anything else they might need. I even offer the pearls of my wisdom with regards to how to make the little money they have left stretch until pay day, as well as sympathy for the situation. But I get so annoyed when it's thrown back in my face, without the other person realising it.

French TV is hardly exciting - the best thing about it is the weekly episode of Without A Trace screened in original version with French subtitles every Friday night at midnight on France4. So an increased urge to stick in a DVD is expected, unless you're the type of person to get excited by French people acting dumb on Wheel of Fortune or 1 versus 100, for instance. Now it's only natural that I keep my belongings in my room so that a) I know where they are, and b) only I am responsible for them remaining in working order.

In which part of "If you want/need to check your emails and I'm not here, I don't mind if you go into my room quickly and use my computer" did I say "If I'm not here and you're bored, feel free to go rummaging through my stuff to find something to entertain yourself with - be it DVDs, razors, jewellery or whatever"???

So, I'm footing the food bill for two. OK, it's not cheap, but it's a kind thing to do for someone who has "no money to eat". So where on earth does the money for expensive biscuits and even more expensive (and far less value for money) chicken wings come from every other day? Maybe I'm just being over-sensitive, but surely if one is able to spend 5€ on a bag containing 8 minute chicken wings and a box of 12 biscuits with a bit of chocoloate on them, one is sensible to spend those precious 5€ on 3 tins of chopped tomatoes, 2 tins of tuna and a pack of pasta (and still have change), from which one can make at least 3 separate meals?? Obviously they won't be gourmet meals, but all the necessary vitamins and nutrients are in there. Chicken wings and biscuits give you a bit of protein and armloads of fat. How on earth can that be justified?

I saw many a similar situation during my time at uni, people complaining of having no money, yet going out and buying things that they could absolutely live without. When cash flow is low (or at a standstill), you make sacrifices. You go without that bar of chocolate as walk home from town. You buy the economy range at the supermarket, and get double the amount for your money. You do all this so that you are able to survive.

Or at least I thought that was how it all worked. Clearly I am wrong.

Post Scriptum - I'm now buying my own food as and when I need it, and leaving the other person to survive by herself. Unless she decides to let me go hungry by eating the little amount of food I am keeping here. If that does happen, you will be the first to hear about it. And I'll be proved very wrong about my struggling student days being over...

Some can't do it without a ****ing Jonny

2007-10-14T11:22:00.000+01:00

You may be able to sense my anger/disappointment with last night's Rugby World Cup semi-final result. Being a Welsh girl, I feel I'm entitled to continue the traditional Wales-England rivalry.

Firstly, I genuinely believe that England did not deserve to make it past the group stages given their performance during this tournament. Not that I think Wales should have progressed either - they played like morons too. But secondly, and perhaps more significantly, it really annoys me that the England team relies on one person to win them points on the back of which they win these matches. They are meant to be a team, yet only Jonny can honestly say that he does his job properly. When England won the RWC in 2003, it was thanks to Jonny's boot. And this time around, the team's success is thanks to Jonny's boot. Excellent "teamwork", England.

It's a real shame that France didn't make the final, the atmosphere for the final would have been electric all over the country had they done so. I squeezed myself into a tiny Irish bar with some friends for the match, and it felt amazing. The French are good sports, even when there's one person supporting the opposition (which wasn't me, just to be clear).

But, as is always the case when alcohol is involved, one crazy fool at the bar has to spoil the fun. Some touchy-feely idiot with one front tooth insisted on naming all the anglophone people he could think of, and I quote: "Alfred 'Eetchcock, Meechael Jacksohn, 'Arrreee Pottair". You get the idea. Fortunately, we were saved by some cute French lads who said something none of us understood following which he left.

So, down with England in the final. Sorry, but I couldn't cope with all those swinging chariots and victory bus tours around London again. Especially when it's so undeserved given recent form.

Beam me up, Scottie

2007-10-09T20:39:00.000+01:00

France prides itself on its excellent transportation system. And in the case of the trains, the SNCF is very much justified in regarding itself so highly. The service is second to none (that I know of) and the prices are very reasonable indeed - with or without a loyalty card of some sort that offers discounts on all trips.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the local bus systems throughout the country. The amount of traffic on the roads here stops what could theoretically be a highly efficient system. Sat on a bus to get me to one of my schools this morning, the bus got caught up in the standstill that was the traffic into the town centre. I was both shocked and appalled by the number of people driving cars with no passengers. I wasn't shocked and appalled in the sense that I'd not seen so many cars on the road - Britain is certainly the leader in terms of unnecessary traffic jams. I was shocked and appalled by the apparent hypocrisy of the French people: there is a vigorous campaign throughout France (as in Britain) to cut our "carbon footprint", suggesting recycling more, turning off the lights, turning down the heating, and so on.

What I haven't seen suggested, neither here nor in Britain, is an incentive to increase the amount of car-sharing that takes place. It could be extremely beneficial to all concerned, as long as the move was promoted correctly and valid incentives followed through. For example, I know that in Britain, many employers charge employees for on-site parking spaces, and I'm led to believe the same is known in France. Now, and please forgive me for believing this to be common sense, why not offer discounted parking permits for those who car-share? Or even free parking to all car-sharers? I'm sure it can't be that difficult to find one or two people working in your establishment that live close by, or on the route that one may take to work. Imagine the reduction in carbon emissions if people actually communicated and travelled into work together! And imagine how much more quickly we could get to work if we travelled in the same car...

If the above were to take place successfully, then maybe the bus networks could run more efficiently, thus motivating people to use the public transport systems available to them and theoretically reducing the number of cars on the road even more.

I am living in a dream-world, and am as guilty as the next person for driving when it's not absolutely necessary. But what is one to do when we can't rely on the transport systems provided? It seems to me that this is a give and take situation, we need to give in order to take advantage in the future - surely it will make us feel good to be saving the planet and reviving a national institution at the same time?

I am also aware that the amount of traffic on the roads has nothing (or should have nothing) to do with the state of the railway network. It's not that re-nationalisation is going to occur any time soon - bring back good old British Rail. The absence of privatisation of the French rail network seems to have benefited rather than hindered. Take note National Rail.

Until my utopia becomes reality, I'll struggle on with delayed trains and buses, and will no doubt use my car when I get back home just to make it easier upon myself. Wouldn't it be nice though?

It'll be alright on the night

2007-10-06T14:27:00.000+01:00

There is a saying in French that "tout va s'arranger". The laid-back, carefree mentality of the French is summed up in those three words. In fact, those three words could some up the mentality of any country on the continent.

So why not Britain? We are very much a part of Europe, despite our ongoing (and personally supported) resistance to join the Euro. Why do we have a mentality that makes everything of the utmost importance. That burning desire to be on time is stopping us from seeing life for what it is: life. While Britain persists in chasing the Americans in terms of on-the-go eating and drinking, the continent refuses to let Starbucks/McDonald's/any other fast-food outlet to take over and monopolise the high streets. Instead, Europe prefers the traditional café, preferably located in a pedestrian zone, where customers can sit outside and enjoy the sunshine, the tranquility and the company.

And no, I don't think this continental tradition should be integrated into British life. For a start we don't have the weather to encourage dining al-fresco. But what I do believe is that we should look to our European neighbours, the people closer to us, rather than the neighbours across the pond. Much as I am a weakling when it comes to walking past a branch of Starbucks, I do try my best not to order it "to go", preferring to order a great big sturdy mug in place of a cardboard tube, and sit in a fairly comfortable chair with a book in my free hand.

But doing this carries its own stereotypes, specifically the tag of "swot" or "nerd" in places that do not house many students. Certainly where I come from, sitting in a café, taking one's time with a coffee and taking some time out for myself is pretty much unheard of. In fact, going out for a leisurely lunch or evening meal is becoming rarer by the day. Everyone is in such a rush, they can't let their food digest a little before zooming off to their next "must do" activity.

Grrr. Bring in longer lunch hours and I'll be happier. 30minutes is just not enough, even to scoff down a sandwich as we run between the office and the sandwich shop and back to the office again.

I guess what I'm saying is, relax. Take it easy. Tout va s'arranger.

Stuck in neutral

2007-10-05T17:07:00.000+01:00

How does one plan for the future when the present is rather spontaneous and undecided? Do we just make provisional plans that are open to be moved around? Or do we make a definite plan, with definite dates, and work other stuff around it?

Coming back to France, I had a definite plan around which everything else had to fit. My summer job fitted around the end of university and my departure. My sketchy idea of what I want to do with the rest of my life is trying to decide whether it's on the backburner or whether it's going to take prominence in my thoughts over the coming weeks. As for my immediate future here in Toulon, that is just as sketchy as 'what happens after'.

So what do I do about my impending decision making? I completely avoid all thoughts. Now I have done some research into the "next stage", but that came to a grinding halt when frustration associated with the "current process" took over all thoughts and actions. I'm not usually a person who gets really panicked and worked up easily, but since I've been in France my calm demeanour seems to have regressed. Search me for the answer to that one (answers on a postcard, please).

And now I suppose I'm in a rut, I can't make myself continue research into the distant future because my knowledge of the near future is so blurred. And I can't make myself clear up the not-too-distant future because frustration gets in my way in trying to do so.

Swings... roundabouts... see-saws... if only I'd taken note of other people's stories of frustration when it comes to paperwork, I might not be so negative and appreciate it for the unique element of French culture that it is. Or maybe I could just apologise for the overall general simplicity of paperwork chez moi.

Nationwide regulation, Regional variation

2007-10-03T10:15:00.000+01:00

Isn't it funny how something as uniformly regulated as education can be interpreted in such different ways, thanks to the ridiculous hierarchy of bodies between the school and those who set the regulations?

I say this having experienced two pointless inductions in two different educational académies here in France. Although very similar in their approaches, it's amazing how one group of officials can know all the answers, while their counterparts in a different region can't answer any questions truthfully other than to give the standard "Je ne sais pas, il faut demander à la personne avec qui vous parlerez à plus tard." ("I don't know, you need to ask the person that you'll speak to later." - talk about passing the buck...) Except that person who you speak to later doesn't know the answer either. Such tripe. This is France, the country that prides itself on being the best at everything.

Or so they try to make out.

I spent the day in Nice on Monday, attending the utterly pointless but obligatory induction day. For my own purposes, it served no purpose other than allow me to meet the other assistants in my area and to make me seriously doubt the competence of those who I have to work for and answer to. For those coming from outside of the EU, the induction day is a rather useful time to learn about the procedures to get hold of the necessary papers (the carte de séjour particularly). But rather than be useful, it ends up highly frustrating for all concerned. Those of us from inside the EU who don't need to know anything about work permits and medical visits are bored senseless. Those from abroad (particularly the USA) find that the day becomes a frustrating mess, frying the brain of any understanding of the procedures and the order in which to do them. Talk about swings and roundabouts.

So apart from hearing over and over again about the carte de séjour, my day was shocking in seeing the differences between two académies. There is a particular issue with regard to the assistantship program that is important for each assistant to know. In raising this issue, I was shot down and told that I am in fact wrong. They claim that a language assistant can be left alone with a full class of pupils, despite having received no formal teacher training. Due to my time in Périgueux two years ago, I know for a fact that if a group is just one person bigger than 15 kids, the regular teacher has to remain in the room for the duration of the class. So if the bigwigs here in Toulon think that I'm going to accept their absurd claim that "the teacher is not obliged to stay in the room for the purposes of controlling discipline amongst the pupils", they are certainly in for a fight.

And fight I will. Noone is going to walk all over me, no matter how good the hours and the salary may be.

Reflections

2007-09-27T16:11:00.000+01:00

There are people in this world who are 100 times less fortunate than yourself.

That's what we're always told when we're growing up and something bad happens or we have to wait for something that we really want. I don't think we really appreciate the truthfulness of this seemingly old cliché until something happens that makes us take stock of what we have and be grateful for it.

It's a shame that it takes a tragedy to highlight the positive aspects of life. I'm not saying that nobody in this world is grateful for the life they lead, that would be totally idiotic of me - deep down we all appreciate our existence on this planet, whether we realise it or not. But I just feel that it's only at times like these that I really think about how lucky I am and how much I don't tell people I'm lucky to have them in my life.

A short post, but one that I hope everyone reading will identify with, and certainly reflect upon.

For my friends: past, present and future.

Kapoosh

2007-09-25T20:04:00.001+01:00

Addiction is a cruel word. Yet it's a word I appear to be associating myself with more and more as the days go by. My reason for doing so is that something gets taken away from me (albeit temporarily) and I suddenly realise how reliant I am on that thing/person.

Take for instance my friends. I bet you've never heard of anyone being addicted to their friends, but the more I think about it, the more I realise that I rely on my friends in so many ways. I'm so used to my friends being there to help when things get tough, that being restricted to MSN communication is really pushing me towards the door marked "Give Up". Why live hundreds of miles away and be in intermittent contact when I can just go home and be in constant contact? That said, my friends are all MSN buffs, and are generally able to talk sense into me over MSN. But I miss their voices, the subtle sarcastic tones when they're trying to lighten the mood through a bad (but very effective) joke.

And then there's the material things in life, like money and internet access.

Of course, without money one is thrown in at the deep end and in an episode of Survivor before you know it. But when you have money but can't use it to make life easier, that's when your addiction/reliance takes its toll. I, being the 'safe option' person that I am, brought travellers cheques with me, to exchange when I need to. Much more secure than a hump of cash I thought, and much less expensive than using my bank card. But little did I realise that trying to exchange the cheques for cash in a bank, of all places, would be such a dilemma.

So having partly got over the possibility of running out of cash and not being able to eat in a few days time, I decided to make the most of my new found confidence here, and go along to a meet-up of some other language assistants who arrived yesterday and today. Needless to say, that didn't go to plan (if it did, you probably wouldn't be reading this...) and so I headed back to my 'new home', arriving back to find that my WiFi access had cut out. "I'll just reconnect" I thought, but to no avail. Turns out my wireless network card is more than likely knackered. Kapoosh.

Kapoosh, just like my time here so far. Smashing into brick wall after brick wall. I'm so close to giving up, yet keep wondering whether tomorrow will be so much better that I wonder what I got so upset about. I have a feeling this whole voyage of discovery is going to end in kapoosh though.

Kapoosh.

Whole days of nothingness

2007-09-24T16:23:00.000+01:00

It's amazing how days can be long and full of opportunities to do a number of different things. Finish off that thing you started months ago. Start that thing you've been wanting to do for months. Which is great if one free day is all you have. You're more than likely going to get round to doing those things.

But when one has (what appears to be) an infinity of free days, productivity goes down and the days seem longer because of it. A typical example may be:

9am - wake up, go back to sleep

10.30am - wake up again, amble into kitchen and toast some bread

11.30am - put dirty plate in sink, go back to TV

1pm - think about lunch, continue watching TV

3pm - get washed and dressed with intention of going out and doing something

4pm - realise the time and position self in front of computer to surf the net

10pm - realise haven't eaten since breakfast, now can't be bothered to eat and so continue messing around online until can no longer keep eyes open

While this may seem to be a typical lazy person's daily routine, it is more often than not the accidental daily routine of a person who makes plans. The reason the plans never come to fruition? The idea of "doing it later" and then "doing it tomorrow".

And as my year 6 primary school teacher used to tell us every day: "Tomorrow never comes."

Of course, tomorrow always has the intention of coming around, yet somehow never does until time starts running out and these long, carefree days are numbered. Then productivity within daylight hours rockets, and that very person who uttered "I'll do it tomorrow" starts wondering why she didn't get up early every morning and get on with all that needed to be done. Even if she had nothing in particular to do, getting up and setting her mind to finding something might help ignite her imagination so she fills the time she has sensibly. And the chances of that happening are, sans doute, slim.

I suppose tomorrow does come eventually, but this is one mistake we'll (read: I'll) keep on repeating and keep failing to learn from.

Bienvenue à Toulon, faites attention à la vie en descendant du train

2007-09-23T17:05:00.000+01:00

There is something to be said about train journeys. Nothing quite beats the worry of watching the countryside zoom past as you obsessively glance over at the luggage racks to make sure your too-heavy-to-lift-yet-alone-steal suitcases are still dangerously stowed in them. And when it comes to get off the train, the wave of panic that you won't manage to lift both cases off in time before the doors close means that you're ready to alight (and practising lifting both at the same time) for at least 20 minutes before the train stops at the platform.

And that is exactly how I behaved on the whole journey from London Waterloo to Toulon. The only time I wasn't obsessing was when I put on my "defenceless female in a strange place" act on the Paris metro to get help in climbing the stairs. Stepping off the (double-decker) TGV in Toulon, I found that I still had flights of stairs to contend with to get to the main reception where my new landlord/flatmate was waiting for me. Except he wasn't. Or so it seemed. So I park myself next to the Welcome office, with suitcases explicitly in view of everyone that walks past, and wait. Two pidgin-French texts later and I'm collected and taken away to my new home.

Now the insecurities set in: do I remember how to make conversation in French? Do I remember how to make conversation? Have I made the biggest mistake of my life by not turning back when I had the chance? Hmmmm...

I don't remember feeling so homesick as I have since I arrived in Toulon. I don't remember ever feeling so shy and insecure that I have to hibernate in my room. But homesick, shy and insecure I have been. Thanks to an excellent WiFi connection, and friends who are as obsessed with MSN and facebook as I am, I've managed to hold onto my sanity in here. The timidity has subsided a bit, and I've been known to venture out into the living room every so often and attempt a conversation with my new flatmate. I even went as far as the city centre the other day.

So now that the unpacking is done, my room neat and tidy (for the next few hours at least), all that remains for me to do is sit back, turn out the lights, ignore the trains rumbling past at ridiculous speeds and watch episodes of Friends over the internet until I'm tired enough to sleep. Then it's time for the same thing again tomorrow, possibly with more escapades into the promised land of my new living room than I managed today.