The countdown to Christmas! Only 5 more weeks until I return to the true North strong and free(zing). I'm already looking forward to being home and being back with family and friends. And, another major part of my life that was left behind.
I'm speaking about hockey, of course.
I had a dream last night in which Mike Cammalleri, the closest thing to a Greek god that plays for the Canadiens, came over to my apartment for a cup of coffee. There are several things to be noted:
1)Why is Michael Cammalleri in Northampton, England? Not that I'm complaining...
2)I would never want to serve him English coffee...yikes.
3)This is a sign of major coffee and hockey withdrawl.
Dear Lord Stanley (cup),
Please, please, please, grant me my Christmas wish, and put Mike Cammalleri under the tree for me.
In other news...actually, this is literally about the news. Or the newspapers, to be more specific. As I was flipping through a local newspaper the other day, I began to pay attention to the descriptive adjectives (God, I really am and English teacher...) used in the articles. I've come to realize that British newspapers, despite the prim & proper British image, are rather...explicit in their descriptions. There was an incident in which a man exposed himself while relieving himself in the park. To describe this man: Pervert Flashes Passers-By. What?! Since when is it not slander to refer to someone as a pervert? I started to pay closer attention to the titles of other articles:
Boozer Wants Kids Back
Pervert Shows Porn
Psychotic Teenager Arrested
For an opinion column, they list the address and occupation of the respondent:
24, of no fixed address, unemployed
38, without employment
and so on and so on.
I began to realize that British newspapers really take their gloves off for their stories (I also realized that Northampton has some really questionable people living here...). This is yet another difference between Canada and England I'm just coming to notice. The British reporters seem to have free range of the adjectives they use to describe those they are writing about. Yikes. Remind me to never interview for a story.
Last weekend, I took my first tourtist-y trip to London for the day with another girl from the agency. It was lots of fun. We went to the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, the Globe theatre, a walk along the Thames, and lots of other places. However. The greatest place that we went to turned out to be Piccadilly Circus. Why? Because there is a coffee shop that serves...
TIM HORTONS.
Mind. Blown.
Elspeth had told me about the existence of this wonderful place and I could only pray that I could find this personal Mecca of mine. Angela & I met up and took the underground to Piccadilly Circus and were able to find this glorious coffee shop. A slight dissapointment, when it turned out to be a coffee machine serving Tim's coffee, but still. It tasted good...remarkably close to an actual double double. And, to top it off, they had Tim's doughnuts!
Boston cream, you complete me.
You can certainly bet your double-doubles that the Tim Hortons coffee-cup holder is now proudly displayed on my dressed in my apartment. For those really tough days when I need a visual pick-me-up.
Those days, while they do still exist, are starting to become a little-less frequent in occurance. I'm not sure when it happened, or how, but I've found myself starting to actually fit in at the school and not be so worn down by what takes place during a day. I'm starting to talk with other teachers about getting involved in the extra-curricular activities (the Glee club I currently help run is anything less than glee-ful) and the school musical is at the top of the list.
We had another faculty-night out on Friday and, instead of being completely exhausted and overwhelmed at the end of a week, I found myself laughing and sharing stories along with the other staff members. There are still rough patches (really rough patches) but it's starting to become more routine and less soul-shattering to deal with.
A new list of questions I have been asked by my students...
1)"Miss...Why are you so short?"
2)"Miss! Have you met Justin Bieber?!"
Me: "Ahhh, no."
Student: "Oh. Well, have you met his mom?"
3)"Can I come back to Canada with you? Like, in your suitcase or something?"
4)"Miss...Will you sing to us? Please? We'll be good!"
5)"Miss...do you go home every weekend?"
Me: "I go home every night...I don't sleep at school, you know."
Student: "You go back to Canada every night?!"
Ahh yes. Our future generation.
I also experience my first bonfire night in England last weekend and, I must admit, I never realized just how serious this occasion was. When out walking on Saturday night, I could see fireworks in the sky coming from several different directions around the city. And these aren't the DIY firework kits you buy at the corner store. These are professionally-planned and orchestrated displays happening here. They are beautiful. I found them significantly less beautiful when I still could hear the gunshot-like sound at 3 o'clock in the morning while trying to sleep, but a cool thing to have seen, nonetheless.
Well. I should probably get to marking the pile of books I brought home with me this weekend. But, first thing first. I need to go buy some gourmet coffee in case any dashing NHL players show up at my doorstep and demand refreshments.
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