Dear Mr Harper

Dear Mr Harper,

I received your letter today. It informed me that I am no longer allowed to vote in Canadian elections--unless, of course, I meet a list of very specific criteria and have the official, letter-headed, documentation to prove it.

I left Canada almost five years ago because I was unable to find a full-time job in my hometown--or even my home province. Any chance of finding a job meant moving thousands of kilometers away, to northern or western Canada; separating myself from my family, friends and everything familiar. Instead, I moved to England. I was given a full-time job, straight out of university, which is almost unheard of as a new teacher. I could live in a new country, travel Europe, experience new adventures and see if it really did rain all the time in England.

Why would I come home? Why would I give up a full-time, guaranteed, job for putting my name on a supply list where I could, maybe, possibly, if the wind blows in the right direction, get an odd day of work, here and there, all the while working in a field that has nothing to do with my degree? I've made friends here, I've adopted a pet, bought a car, traveled, met a loving boyfriend and find myself actually being recruited for work in my specialized field--even though I'm already employed, full-time.

For 23 years, I lived in Canada. When I began work I dutifully paid taxes. I didn't quite understand how it worked, where my money went or how it was completely calculated, but I did so. Moreover, I did so happily and, in return, was given free health care, democracy and citizenship to what, I considered, the greatest nation in the world. When I turned 18, I registered to vote and participated, with millions of others, in provincial and federal elections. Sadly, all our efforts weren't enough to keep you out of Parliament, Mr Harper

Every time an election was called, I voted. I knew my vote would never be make-or-break for the next Premier or Prime Minister; it was the action, the participating and exercising my democratic right, that I felt most important. When I moved to England, I made sure to register as an international voter. I may no longer be in Canada, but it is still the country I plan to return to; I still call Canada my home. Surely, if I still hold my Canadian citizenship, I should still have a say in who runs the country?

No.

That's because of your choices and your "ruling by the Ontario Court of Appeal, which took immediate effect", Mr Harper. Perhaps you have realized that all of us ex-pats around the world must have left Canada for a reason? For myself: no job opportunities, a line of credit to pay off and no future if I didn't make the choice to move. Possibly, just possibly, us ex-pats might hold the government, at least partially, responsible for moving. The budget cuts. The actions taken that limit the protection of our wilderness. The rising cost of buying a house--something a student with thousands of dollars to pay off could only ever dream of, especially if they cannot get a job in the first place.

You have taken our vote, our voices away, Mr Harper. When I read the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, I see section 3: "Every citizen of Canada has the right to vote in an election of the members of the House of Commons or of a legislative assembly and to be qualified for membership therein."

Now, there are apparently exceptions to this. Stipulations introduced. You can vote abroad, but only if...I have exceeded my time limit for being away from home and, therefore, can no longer vote. There will be thousands who agree with this--I don't live in the country day to day, I don't have apersonal connection with my local MP and, fair point. My question though is why, when thousands choose not to vote while they live in Canada, should I have someone decide that I don't wish to either? Why do I lose a constitutional right because I chose to move away and secure a future for myself?

The government voted in will change the economy, policies on foreign relations, the national budget and the list goes on and on. These bills, policies and laws introduced will change the country that I left five short years ago--and want to return to--into something a little bit different with every election. Who is to say whether it will be for the better or worse? I suppose that could have been the voters. All of them. Citizens and 'ex-pats' alike.

Mr Harper, I do have a voice. I had a vote. Thanks to you, I only have one of those now. I only hope that those who still have their votes choose to send you a message as well: your time is over. 

Rest peacefully, Emma. You were, and continue to be, a beautiful and loving soul.

Where has the time gone?

Well, this is post #100 and it should be something more monumental than an all-encompassing summary of the last 6 months but....ain't nobody got time for that.

Since May...

Tom and I have moved (again). We are living in a beautiful little village outside of town, which I am more than happy with.
I left Malcolm Arnold Academy. The first school I worked at when I moved over here...well, all things come to an end.
I began teaching at a new school. I am teaching History now--which I love. I love the subject. As for the students....
I've been to Canada, Norway and a few odd places in between. I've had friends from home visit, booked tickets to Prague in February and am very excited for the birth of my niece in December.

And, there we have it! I hope to get back into the habit of writing in this. Apparently there are still people who check in with me every so often. I do thank you, faithful readers. (However few and far between.)

Sigh of Relief

It's that time of the year again: coursework nightmare time. In England, in order to get a grade in English, students have 2 years to complete a GCSE (general certificate of secondary education...or some such British nonsense) which consists of 5 written pieces of coursework, 3 speaking and listening tasks and an exam (or three exams, depending on what they are studying). My Year 11s have finished everything but exams and they will be done on June 4 at the latest. In order to finish the work and get it ready to send off to the exam board, all the pieces have to me read, marked, annotated and given a final score. I have 29 students, it takes about 20-30 minutes to properly mark a piece of work and that means...29 times 5...times 30...carry the 2....well, it's a hell of a lot of hours marking.

But, long story short (or not really short at all actually), all the work has been read, marked, annotated and graded and sent off. It is the wind down period now and it is the time when we finally get to lighten up a bit and relax. Thank you Jebus.

Rehearsals for Annie are going well and I am loving being part of the show. The countdown is already on until the show goes up!

Speaking of countdowns...1 week until Norway!

Recently

I am rather crap at getting back into the routine of updating. Hey ho. To business. '|???
\\\\\\\\\ (that was the cat. Poppy the cat says hello to you all.)


I am one need-to-spend-an-entire-paycheck for: no-bloody-leg-room (ironic since I barely scrape 5' tall), plastic-covered-mush-disguised-as-food, seated-next-to-the-screaming-child-for-8-nonstop-hours with the inconsiderate-8-foot-tall-giant-in-the-seat-ahead-shoving-his-seat-into-my-face, airplane ticket away from buying a damn canoe to get back to Canada. If a (albeit fictitious) man can survive for months at sea with a tiger, I'm sure the Atlantic will be no problem for me. I haven't been able to buy my ticket to get home for the summer yet and I am not a happy camper. I know I should have bought it months ago--I have this fight with myself every year and decide that future Jessica can worry about it. Well, future Jessica is now present Jessica and present Jessica is going to be broke for the second half of May so I can get home. It will be nostalgic, living on a university diet. I wonder if Mr Noodles come in any different flavours now?

Ok, so not altogether thrilled with the cost of airtravel now and don't think the QEII will be any cheaper so I'll have to bite the proverbial (bloody expensive) bullet. On re-reading that, I am realising I am adopting British slang a bit. I'm sure Carleton County will beat that out of me this summer and I will return a red neck--linguistically and literally, I'm sure; sunburns are a'comin'.

 I do have some exciting events to look forward to: Tom and I are heading to Norway at the end of May to visit Sarah and Kristian. It will be Tom's first visit and his first time meeting Kristian and I am excited to get back.

The other exciting bit of news--and the one I am probably most excited about and this will dominate many of my blog updates (if I ever become a regular updater again--is there a prune juice for bloggers?) from now on: I have been asked to become stage manager for the theatre company I volunteer with on their upcoming production of Annie. Quite excited for this! I am completely new to stage managing (directing We Will Rock You was fun and a great experience but, who am I kidding, complete and utter omnishambles by the end of it) and I am looking forward to the experience.

So, I leave you on that note, faithful readers. When I update again, I may have in my possession a stupidly ridiculous ticket home for the summer. Speaking of ...I have decided to start a charity. It is the Canadians-need-to-get-home-for-the-summer fund. Completely not for profit and a very worthy cause. You know you want to. This charity doesn't include TV adverts that make you feel guilty and want to change the channel. Really, it is a win-win for everyone involved.

Brush the Dust Off

Well well, it has been awhile indeed. Actually, according to my last post, I haven't updated in all of 2013! It would be useless to try and recount all of the events in detail so I will do a bit of a summative update and hopefully get back into a more regular routine. I do enjoy keeping my faithful readers updated. (I also like making ironic jokes)

To start, Tom and I have moved into a beautiful house together. We moved in mid-February and it has been going great so far. A bit further away from town, slightly further away from work but in a better location and much quieter. Not sure if I would ever want to go back to living in an apartment building again.

Two or three weeks after we moved into our house, a colleague of mine told me about her cat that she had recently re-homed. She was very allergic to her cat and had reached the unhappy decision that she had to give her up. Tom and I had discussed having pets and decided to take Poppy, rather than see her go to a shelter or re-homed somewhere not nearly as awesome as our house. We brought Poppy home and, after climbing up the chimney for four hours and sitting behind the dryer for another fifteen or sixteen, she settled in very well. She has this adorable habit of trying to get your attention by sinking her lovely little claws into your legs, arms, hands, face...you know, wherever. This is made even more adorable at 3:30 in the morning. Also, I want to publicly state I wanted to rename her. I was thinking Moose, as a tribute to my native land. Tom disagreed. How unfair.

I am on Easter holiday now and not nearly prepared to go back to work on Monday. Following my return to work, it will be the most frantic time of the year getting my Year 11s finished with their coursework, ready for exams and done their GCSEs. My third year of teaching is quickly finishing and I am still at the same school. Before I leave England, I want to see more of the country than the midlands, but I am happy enough and still have 4.5 years left on my Visa to decide on a change of scenery.

And, in 400 little words (or so), that is my life for the last few months. The upcoming months will include travelling, trips back to Canada and going on a trip with one of my best friends; hopefully this will allow for less summative posts, more exciting story-telling.

T'was the Night Before Christmas...

Gather 'round children and let me tell you the story of a very special gift.

What gift you ask?






Why, dear readers, this gift.








This gift came to me all the way from Norway from my very own sister. And what an adventure this package went on! Let me tell you the tale...



A few weeks ago, Sarah told me that she had mailed a Christmas gift to me and that I should look out for it. A couple weeks went by, didn't receive anything and didn't think much of it (considering mail was backed up for months following the Olympics, I figured I would get it just in time for Thanksgiving 2013). When Sarah mentioned it a few more times, I started checking the mail more frequently, asking the concierge at my building and still found nothing. Finally it got to Friday and still nothing (and only 2 more post days until Christmas--oh no)! This is where the story gets interesting. Or boring, depending on how limited your patience is. Mine had reached a critical low by the end of Friday afternoon.

 Sarah gave me the customer number and tracking number. I decided to stop in to my local post office to see if, for some reason, they had my parcel and just hadn't delivered it yet. No dice...attempt one. After getting home, I tried one more time with the front desk to see if it had been delivered in my 45 minute absence...nope. Attempt two. I called the courier company that Sarah shipped it with and the oh-so-unhelpful woman on the phone told me that I would have to drive to one of their convenient locations to pick up my parcel, about 300 miles away. Thanks love. Attempt three.

I then tried to see if the tracking number would work on one of the main courier services for England--it worked! Success. It seemed like I would be fourth-attempt lucky and have my parcel before bedtime! So off to the local Royal Mail depot I trundle, 10 miles away, and wait in line. It turns out that there are two Royal Mail depots in Northampton, one serving the post codes of NN1, NN2, NN5 and so on...and I had chosen the depot that served all other postal codes but mine. Fourth attempt strike-out.

The next adventure involved a 15-mile backtrack to this rather smelly little post office near my apartment where the woman behind the counter informed me that I hadn't reached the post depot, but rather just a mail office; lovely. Fifth attempt.

Patience wearing thin, the postal depot that proved as easy to find as Narnia was finally found and the line was literally out the door. After standing in line and explaining, for about the 72nd time, my quest to find this bleep-ing gift, the woman behind the counter took my information, checked her whizzy little computer and cheerfully informed me that my tracking number had nothing to do with Royal Mail and I had to contact the other major courier, ParcelForce. Sixth attempt.

On the drive back to my apartment, of course we hit heavy traffic. I found the phone number for ParcelForce and managed to get through...to a waiting line for a call centre. Teeth-grittingly wonderful. I am finally answered, explain my story for now the 117th time and the next unhelpful woman in my encounters cheerfully informed me that my parcel had been in the UK since December 3. Lucky number 7 it seems.

Without trying to sound like a shrieking banshee, I asked why I was not informed that my parcel had arrived. The woman informed me that there was a customs charge on it that needed to be paid. Fine and fair enough I replied and then sweetly enquired how in the sweet mother of everything holy was I expected to pay the customs charge if I was never informed of the package arriving in the UK?! Somewhat sheepishly, Miss ParcelForce said that there must have been a slight oversight and my letter just must have been left out. She then asked me if I wanted to pay an additional extortionate amount to have it delivered to me the next day. I politely (mentally) told her to stuff it and (verbally) asked what my other options were. I decided on a Christmas Eve delivery and then had another little spat about the concept of leaving the package at the front desk and that I was not, in fact, going to wait outside my building between the hours of 8AM and 5PM to get the.........wonderful........thing. Really, it was probably safer for Mr/Mrs ParceForce delivery-person that we never meet.

So, seven attempts and a few spikes in blood pressure later...

See how pretty it is?!

Alright, it was definitely worth it in the long run. I'm looking forward to my first truly British Christmas tomorrow; even if I am thinking of friends and family far across the Atlantic. First Christmas away from home in all my 25 years and I'm pretty excited about it. Now. I have milk and cookies to leave for the fat man. 

And, on that note...a Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

It's That Time Again...

It's that time of the year again. The countdown to Christmas is on--not necessarily for me, but for seemingly every store, supermarket, Internet and TV advert, and bargain home store. Usually I can hold out until at least the 1st of December before I start decorating and I usually don't put that much effort in, considering I'm usually going home for Christmas.

 However, this year, I'm staying in England for Christmas. This is my first Christmas in England, my first Christmas away from home. I've decided to actually put some effort in. So, on the particularly wet and miserable evening that was last night, I bought the first round of decorations. A 3-foot artificial tree for the entryway, snow globe (complete with Santa), candles, window hangings and garland. I dread to think what the place will look like when Christmas actually rolls around. Must stick to a budget. Must stick to a budget. Must not spend more than half my entire bank account on Christmas decorations...sounds like a reasonable budget.

 Work has been rolling on, as it tends to do. Not much to comment on work. It's there. It pays my rent and living expenses. The kids make it worth it. I will definitely have to make some post about those darn kids saying the darndest things, just waiting to accumulate a good collection.

  I went to see Phantom of the Opera with Leigh at the beginning of the week. This is my first experience seeing the show on the stage and I definitely loved it.

See? Really thrilled.







I am beginning to accumulate a huge amount of memorabilia from trips, events and outings since I've moved here. Plane tickets, show tickets, movie stubs, luggage tags, museum leaflets...I probably should make some type of scrapbook but, honestly, who wants to do that? You, random reader? Are you going to make a scrapbook for me?

Didn't think so.

That was quite sharp of me, apologies.

 I am in the process of looking for a new place to live. Several options, all quite feasible and would be a nice change of scenery. As always, stay tuned for new developments.

This Tuesday marked the 20th anniversary of the passing of someone I miss and love every single day. I was only 5 years old and it has changed me more than I will ever understand. I thought about finding some quaint little quote from the Internet, but rather than use the words that are not my own, I will simply say that I love you, I miss you and I hope that you are happy and at peace. That's all I could ever ask.

That could be read as all I ask of you. (Get it?)

Still Alive!

I am alive! I am sure my dedicated fanbase in, you know...Russia...have been very worried about my lack of updates. I'm just sure of it.

 Well, here I am, finally on half-term holiday. I can say, without a shadow of a doubt, this has been the helfterm from hell. Work has been, without exaggerating, absolutely life-draining. As is my unfortunate annual tradition, I became ill and missed work. Unlike other years, I was off for 3 days last week and spent most of those 72 hours asleep and/or struggling to breathe. There has been so much pressure put on us at work, from all sides, that it has worn everyone down. Utterly and completely has taken our souls, violently, from our bodies. Well...I have a week to recover and get ready for the next halfterm. Oh joy.

 There have been several noteworthy occasions over the past 8 weeks that I just haven't had the time to record. I went to the Warner Bro's Studio Tour where Harry Potter was filmed with Mary and Hannah as a late birthday gift. It was the best 4 hours that I have spent in a long time. The studio is divided up into several lots and, apart from a slightly guided tour at the beginning, it is really wander-and-experience on your own....loved it! Took a ridiculous amount of pictures and had an amazing time. I'd love to go back and see everything again.

 Last weekend, I came to Norway to celebrate my brother-in-law's 30th birthday. My sister and I bought him a bottle of 30-year-old whiskey for his 30th birthday and I had to come to help take credit for it. I've told all the other important men in my life to expect the same gift on their 30th birthdays as it is one of my better ideas (if I can get away with saying that).  I arrived Friday night and left again on Sunday and it was absolutely awesome. I saw all of Kristian's friends, met some new people and took over 400 pictures. Everything from Kristian opening his whiskey to beer pong to stacking red solo cups all over the birthday boy at 5AM. I was completely drained for work this last week, but it was definitely worth it.

 I have made the decision to stay in England for Christmas this year. It's going to be very strange for me, being my first Christmas away from home, but I am excited to spend it with my English 'crew' as it were. I will definitely miss my family, the snow, and all those Christmas traditions that I have lived with for the past 25 years but I am excited to start some of my own. I am determined to continue with my eggnog ban and plan to spread the word to the English. They just need to know--it is that important. It is strange to think that I won't see my parents for almost a year and I definitely would have been much more upset when I left this summer, had I realized it then. School ends late for Christmas holiday this year and that would mean travelling through Heathrow on the busiest weekend of the year. Busiest weekend of the year = ridiculously expensive plane tickets = my first Christmas on the European side of the Atlantic. But, hey, spending Christmas in England, New Year's Eve in Norway and a holiday quickly following in February....not such a bad deal after all. I say that now. When I wake up to a green Christmas morning on December 25th, I might be singing from a different song sheet.

 Thus far on my holiday, I have eaten food, walked the dog, been dragged by said dog, covered in drool from aforementioned dog, cooked and relaxed...a lot. I'm going back to England on Thursday night, just in time to wind down my holiday and start counting the days until Christmas break. Not that I would ever do that.

 So, let's see. Work, Harry Potter studios, Kristian's birthday, Tanja (the dog) drooling, being introduced as a Canadian terrorist at the pub and getting ill...yep, that covers the last 8 weeks. I sincerely hope that it won't be another 8 before I update on here again. I have my loyal, dedicated and amazing readers to think of....all 6 of them.

Don't Cry For Me...

...I'm already dead.

From work.

Work is to me what Dementors were to Barty Crouch Jr. BOOM. Still coherent enough for a good HP reference.

So Long, Farewell

It's about that time again. My entire six-week holiday is 24 hours away from ending and I am on my way back to England tomorrow. It has gone by so incredibly fast and I can't believe I'm leaving tomorrow. I've started the goodbyes already; really, I started them two weeks ago. It doesn't seem to get any easier--it almost seems harder each time I leave. These six weeks have been filled with lunches with friends, Tim Hortons coffee & Timbits, watching hockey with my dad, looking at shooting stars around a campfire and spending (not enough) time with family and friends. I've had a great time at home and am sad to say goodbye.

I celebrated my 25th birthday yesterday surrounded by family and friends and it was a great way to end my trip. When I get back to England on Tuesday, I'll have a couple of days to unpack, catch up on sleep and get myself turned around again before I have a second round of birthday celebrations. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone when I get back to England.

Well. Until next time Canada. So long and thanks for all the fish. Eh.

I think seeing the stars at night will be one of the things I miss the most.

Sunny Days!

It's been a week since I have left England and it feels like much, much longer than that. I've spent the last week relaxing, taking care of the gardens and talking to the cats an alarming amount. I've also spent the last week unwinding from one of those travel experiences that makes me want to take a canoe back to England next month.

After school finished, Tom was waiting to take me down to Heathrow. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road and we made it to the airport with a couple hours to spare. No issues with check-in, security and I was lining up to finally board the plane to get home. I was sitting in the back of the plane--second row to the back, to be exact--and realized I had a window seat. Not too bad. Then I saw the women sitting beside me--a mother and daughter duo, the mother in her 50s or 60s, mother in her 80s or older. The women were Israeli, spoke very little English and seemed to have brought their entire lives with them in the form of carry-on luggage: stuffed in the overhead, piled on my seat, piled under all the seats in the row, including mine, and more on the laps of both women . What the hell happened to one piece per passenger? Nevertheless, up they get, the luggage is shifted and I'm squeezed in next to mama--and mama is one hefty woman. 

 As soon as the in-flight entertainment was switched on, Mother gets me to bring up the map of our flight on her screen (which isn't an easy thing to do when you can't see the damn screen) and then Daughter wants the same. I tried explaining I couldn't see her screen but told her step by step instructions, through which she kept shaking her head, saying "no, you--you, no me--you" and pointing to her screen. Around this time, the in-flight service started and, ignoring the looks the dynamic duo gave me, I was more than happy for an in-flight drink.

 Every time I tried watching a movie, Mama would slap her large arm down on my armrest, effectively turning off my screen and making me want to pull my hair out. About four time, I tried delicately shifting her arm which just led her to really take hold of the arm rest and I gave up. It seemed like I wasn't destined to watch The Lorax after all. Well, turns out I was wrong.

 Mama removes her arm from my armrest and I gleefully switch my TV back on. In the 30 seconds between turning my TV and my movie starting, I hear a sound. Crying. Not the usual screaming-baby-on-an-airplane-crying. But definitely crying. I look over and see Mama just wailing. Dear God. I lean forward and then seen daughter with a veil over her head, hands over her eyes and she is rocking back and forth, praying--loudly. The racket was drawing attention from, well, everyone. The cabin crew took turns coming and asking if they needed anything and were effectively ignored. I always got a sympathetic look...which didn't do much to stop the staring. The dynamic duo finally quiet down just in time for dinner. God knows that they didn't want the kosher meal specially prepared for them and they wanted to have a picnic at 37,000 feet. What a stink! I don't know if the food was prepared when Mama was still a young woman or what they put in it, but the entire back of the plane started smelling like their food...and it was not haute cuisine...just saying.


The remaining 5 or so endless hours of the flight didn't see much improvement. There was no personal air-flow control on the plane and both Mama and Daughter seemed to overheat quite quickly. So they were up about twice an hour. Every hour. And all that baggage had to go somewhere. Onto the seats, under my seat, on my lap. Good God. I couldn't get off that plane fast enough.


So, I've made it home for the next six weeks. Aside from a trip to Halifax for my Visa, I plan on relaxing at home and catching up with friends and family. I'm finally getting to enjoy some proper summer weather; it's not going to be much fun when I have to start wearing makeup or shoes again. Well...33 days left to enjoy it. Excellent.

The Home Stretch

Well, I've finally made it to the home stretch. I am barely 2 weeks away from home and the end of my second year of teaching. It's been a long year, full of all kinds of new experiences, both the good and bad. There. That's the most reflective that I'll be in this post.

 I'm proud to say that I am able to cross another place off of my bucket list. I visited Tintern Abbey, just across the Welsh border, a few days ago. To explain why this place drew me so much...

In my third year of university, I was taking an English Literature course and we had a 5 pound textbook...I'm not even close to exaggerating (I weighed the sucker). In this textbook were all of the texts, poems, extracts, sonnets, passages, soon and so forth, that we needed to have in our possession to be a successful English student. One such poem was Wordsworth's poem, aptly named "Tintern Abbey." Alongside the poem was a beautiful picture of the Abbey. At that moment, I knew that I had to see this place in person one day. It was such a beautiful, ethereal and almost too beautiful for words.

If I thought a picture of the place was spectacular, being there in person is almost indescribable. It was beauty beyond words and a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. So, another country and another site off my list.

Not much else to report...I think everyone is in countdown mode now, students and staff alike. Roll on summer.

Oh. I suppose I must now eat my words. Not only have I reconciled with Tom (we all remember Tom)...we're dating. True story.

Damn.

The British men finally got me.

Lazy Norwegian Days

It's a tough life, this holiday stuff. It's my last half-term holiday of the year and I'm back in Norway for one last visit before heading home for the summer in just over a month. Sarah and Kristian have settled into their new house and I've been busy unpacking. Well, that is a slight exaggeration...I have unpacked when I've been told where things go. Otherwise, it's mostly been me hanging out with Kristian's parents St Bernard puppy, watching movies & relaxing. It's tough.

 We went out for a joint birthday celebration on Saturday night for several of Kristian's friends. Sarah & Kristian said it wouldn't be a late night. So, at 3:30 AM, we arrive home and dig into some early-morning snacks. It was fun to see all of Kristian's friends and I had a really good time.

The sun never fully sets here this time of year so it is really hard to judge the time of day (or night) by how light or dark the sky is. Sarah & Kristian have a beautiful new home with lots of windows so I can follow the sun's progress throughout the day. Yes, that is how busy I am on holiday. Well, I have found time to do some cooking, break the cable that provides signal to the TV, almost put a few holes in the wall from opening a door too quickly and smacking into closet doors but that's just par for the course when it comes to me.

 Back to school next week and then a roll-over two weeks following that. That is when all of the current year groups move up into the next year group: year 7 students move into year 8, year 8 into 9 and so on. I have a brand new timetable with new courses on it, so it will be interesting to adjust to. I'm sure I'll come round.

 Based on the decibel level of Tanja's (the St Bernard) snoring, I can assume she is having a day just as relaxing as mine. I've said it before and I'll finish with it: it's a tough job, but somebody has to do it.

One Last Hurdle

One more half term holiday and then we're really on the home stretch until the end of the year. It's incredible, how fast time has gone by. Before I know it, I'll be writing yet another oh so sappy post about how wonderful my colleagues are and so on, blah blah blah.

 Mary, Hannah & I went out for dinner last week, as is fast becoming a weekly habit, and visited a nice Mandarin restaurant that we've been to a few times before. Everything was great, had a lot (too much) to eat and headed home for an early night. A couple of hours later, I started feeling a bit off. Over the next few hours, the pain progressively got worse, to the point where I headed to the hospital. Verdict: food poisoning. It wasn't a very fun night. The only bonus was that I felt it was completely acceptable to drink apple juice in bed all day the next day.

 Roll on Friday..I've a staff dinner on Thursday. Let's avoid the mussels this time, shall we. I don't think Norwegian air will cater very well to my food poisoning.

Dear Readers

I appreciate each and every one of you. Truly, I do. From South Korea to Brazil and everywhere in between, I am very appreciative for all the readers I have in the 25 countries that this blog has been viewed in. I never expected it to be viewed as many times as it has over the last year or so.

 I checked the stats this morning and found that a couple referring sites were google.com and google.co.uk with the search terms of my name + Northampton and then my name + Northamptonshire. Definite dedication. I either hope that I know you or...

Let's just leave it at 'I hope that I know you'...mysterious Googler.

Drip Drop

It has been raining here for two weeks. Three weeks. ETERNITY. I realize that England is known world-wide for its drizzly weather but this is taking stereotypes to a whole new level. While I'm sure all of this rain will make everything oh so beautiful in the summer, I won't be here to enjoy it and so I would greatly appreciate seeing the sun every once in awhile. I'm pale enough as it is.

 I've found myself lying in bed, listening to the rain falling on a very lazy bank holiday Monday. It has been a pretty uneventful couple of weeks, incredibly busy at work with lots of long days involved. It was Hannah's birthday this weekend, so we all went out to celebrate and have a few drinks. Mary, Hannah & I went to Birmingham yesterday and that sums up my very laid-back weekend. There is nothing too exciting looming on the horizon for the next few weeks...in less than a month, it's another half-term holiday and then it will be the final countdown to my return to Canada.

 As excited as I am to go home, it will involve a lot of headache and stress, for part of the trip at least. I'm in the middle of gathering paperwork for my Visa and I am quite worried that the 5-6 week window I have at home won't be long enough to have the papers processed and my passport returned to me on time before I head back to England. If I have to delay my trip, that could be a costly extension to my vacation. But, pointless to worry about it now, so I'll deal with that when the time comes.

 As the school year slowly winds down, I'm getting ready to say goodbye to my current classes before getting a new timetable for next year. One group, however, will be moving on and moving out of the school. My group of Year 11 students have been, above and beyond, one of the greatest perks of the job the past 18 months. I took over the group last winter, shortly after Christmas, and I've fallen completely in love with this group. The students, all of them, are absolutely hilarious and they have made my job so much better. I don't think I will ever be able to forget them, any of them. From the boy who gave me a bracelet made out of paperclips and...actually, I'll stop there. No point in becoming too introspective on what should be a wonderfully laid-back day. Sorry, lazy. Lazy day.

I sadly do have to drag myself out of bed and out into this damn rain...it's much less soothing when I'm walking in it rather than listening to it from the comfort of my big bed and warm duvet. I watched The Avengers last night and, going a little backwards, I realize I should watch all of the other movies that make up the Marvel series. What an arduous task. I do hope I'm up for it.

Easter Holiday 2012

The puke-filled field trip was over, lessons were observed, books were marked (kind of) and I was ready for a holiday! I spent the weekend not packing and procrastinating until the last minute...as per usual. As I was going literally from one holiday destination to the next, I packed for Norway as well. Hannah picked us up on Monday morning and we headed for Gatwick. A cramped and boring plane ride later, we touched down in breezy, warm Tenerife! We headed to our hotel and took some time to explore the area that we were staying in, Los Cristianos. Rather than go through a painfully detailed retelling of the entire five days, I can sum up the holiday in the following:

• Breakfast at our condo
• Beach for the day. We had to take some breaks from the stresses of sunbathing to have some lunch (AKA cheap cocktails) at one of the restaurants along the water.
• More sunbathing
• Swim in the pool at our hotel
• Dinner, drinks and exploring Tenerife by night.

It was a great holiday....aside from getting a wicked sunburn, as was to be expected. Strangely enough, it was the backs of my legs (from the knee down) and the tops of my feet that got it the worst. I stocked up on the SPF 50 and avoided the sun like the plague for the rest of the week. So much for coming back bronzed and beautiful, like Mary & Hannah. While we were there, we went to a neighbouring town, Las Americas, where all the nightclubs were. On our first night out, I met a Finnish guy named Niko who was on holiday with his brother and father. Bless him. Not sure how good your game and pickup lines can be with your dad sitting beside you. Aside from Niko, we met a couple of other very unwanted guests in the form of cockroaches in our apartment. Hot damn, those things are fast. And very, very gross. Creepy crawly disgusting bugs.

Hannah & I went whale-watching on our last day in Tenerife...there are pods of Pilot whales found off the coast, and Hannah was dying to see them. The trip took about 2 hours and we saw entire families, including little calf whales..so cute! Hannah was so excited, and I loved seeing them. For such huge creatures, there is something graceful about the way they move through the water.

The week went by incredibly quickly and we soon found ourselves on the way back. We landed at Gatwick just past 2 AM, where Hannah's friend Mark was waiting to pick us up. Mark dropped me off at Heathrow where I killed time until my flight to Norway. Thanks to a lucky upgrade, I got to fly business class...no complaints here!

My trip to Norway didn't involve Finnish men, cockroaches or stray cats that wandered into the apartment (true story, happened a couple of times in Tenerife. I wanted to keep it) but involved family, friends, movies about Space Nazi's and more food than I care to even think about again. Most of the week was spent relaxing at Sarah & Kristian's while they were at work, with trips to his parents, the cinema and out to dinner mixed in there. I went for walks around the lake, fed the ducks, had a duck bite my shoe (ok, I may have stuck my shoe out to see what the duck would do...I kind of deserve it, apparently) and visited with Michelle to meet her new little boy, Teodore.

Norway was so relaxing and a great holiday. Sarah & Kristian just bought a new house, so my next half-term holiday will probably see me back in Norway, unpacking them into their new house! Can't wait :).

So, it was back to England last Sunday, and back to work on Monday. The week went by incredibly fast, and the next couple of weeks are bound to be incredibly stressful. Great...When is my next holiday?

First Time.

I think that I have finally recovered enough to relive the first (but I am sure not only...I would only be so lucky) experience of this particular event as a teacher. Naturally, I'm speaking about chaperoning a field trip.

And what a trip it was. Let me give you the details.

100 Year 7 students...100 eleven year old boys and girls being taken into the woods of Oxfordshire to work on team building skills. And I was lucky enough to be going along. A definite bonus was being able to wear casual clothes, even if I did look younger than some of the students and get confused for an extra child a couple of times.

Within about 5 minutes of pulling out of the school parking lot, the kids were into their pop, candy and were about 27 different shades of hyper. The bus ride was about 90 minutes and it was about an hour into the trip when the inevitable happened.

"Miss......I don't feel so good." And up comes the first batch of sweets and fizzy drinks.

It was like a chain reaction and I was left walking through a mine-field of projectile vomiting children. The heat on the bus was turned up on high, there were no windows to open and the smell was just...indescribable. Once the first kid let loose, the smell and sound set off another, and then another...and then another. Followed by 2 more, just for good measure. In total, 6 kids couldn't keep their snacks to themselves and we only had 3 sick bags. I'll spare you the details. Actually, no, I won't. 3 kids were lucky enough to get their own sick bag, one needed the spare change of clothes that were brought along and the last one got to experience a type of recycling that nobody ever wants to participate in. I likened the event to a scene I watched in a Stephen King film, only it was much more...chunky.

Eventually, and with no more chunks a-flying, we arrive at Cornbury Park and spend the day watching the kids do team-building exercises, like learning to build a fire, collecting firewood, cooking over an open flame and playing some games. The kids cooked whole trout for lunch and I decided to creep a couple of them out by eating both eyes from the fish. Wasn't so bad, tastes a bit like a salty, crunchy pea. Much more appetizing than what the kids had to offer for snacks on the ride there, I'll just say.

Rounded up the kids, gave them explicitly clear instructions that they were not to eat or drink a single thing on the ride back, and loaded them back into the buses. Overall, an eventful field trip. I definitely needed the holiday that was coming up that weekend. Next time...my Tenerife trip!