CONFESSIONS OF A SPANISH TEACHER

UKRAINE- A TRAGEDY

In my twenty-something years as a teacher, I have encountered some strange situations, many of which are outlined in this blog and in my book.

However this last week has surely been one of the most surreal.

About five weeks ago I started English classes with a lovely 23 year old Ukranian student who lives in Kyiv in a high-rise apartment block.

Since then we have had 3 one hour classes per week and it has been so nice getting to know him and something about the Ukranian way of life, which I knew so little about.

He is a politics student, and I am a politics junkie with a degree in Politics and modern International Relations, so our conversations were often related to the accumulating Russian forces on the Ukranian border.

He was not at all concerned in the beginning, he has a lot of respect for Putin, and he (and most other Ukrainians) felt it was grandstanding that was being whipped up by the West.

We got to know each other well, he loves skateboarding and he has just finished his studies and exams in the University.

It was his birthday on 14th of February and one of the presents he received was a Go-Pro. When we had our class on Tuesday he was looking forward to using it for the first time this very weekend on a snowboarding trip to the Carpathian mountains.

When we spoke on Wednesday he told me that everyone was in shock that Putin had recognised the 2 “rogue” states in the Ukraine, and they were starting to fear the worst, but really he was still more or less confident they would not invade.

The next morning around 4 a.m they did.

Our Zoom call on Thursday was probably the most surreal experience that I have ever had. He was nervous, chain.smoking. His phone was constantly pinging with messages and phone calls from family and friends. Explosions could be heard in the background and at one point a Jet fighter flew past his window.

I just had an overwhelming sense of powerlessness as we said goodbye, words failed me completely.

Knowing what he was facing was excruciating.

Also, as a young man his President was even calling him to fight in an unwinnable war. My student was not intending to do that. He referred to a famous quote that I cannot find the original version, but something like “to get people to fight in wars first you have to create a society worth fighting for”.

He does not like the Ukrainian President, he refers to him as a clown.The quote I would give is that of Voltaire:

“There is no flag large enough to cover the shame of killing innocent people.”

My son is a similar age, and it seems unconceivable that this could happen in 2022.

What has happened to our world?

I have not received a reply yet from the last message I sent him, and I see he was last online at 3.32 this morning.

Kyiv is under attack.

I pray for his safety and for all the Ukrainian people who are completely innocent.

I pray that his President will surrender as, like it or not, not doing so will just prolong the conflict and more people will die.

This war cannot be won by the Ukraine, and Nato will not join in to help as that would have unimaginable consequences for the whole world.

That is not palatable, but it is the harsh reality of the situation.

Please let it be over soon.

A WEEK OF CHAOS- UNA SEMANA DE CAOS

Actually even as I write this title I cannot believe that so many things have happened in such a short space of time.

The first and worst thing that happened was actually more than two weeks ago, when my lovely older brother Tony sadly died. Although he had been ill with dementia for two years, being looked after in a care home, in the end it was still a shock as he had actually survived Covid during this time. I think we thought he would go on forever, although he was not himself he was at least there.

There was a comfort in picturing him sitting watching the tele with a cup of tea, and phoning him every now and again for increasingly difficult conversations as the dementia worsened.

I had hoped to go and visit him for some time, but Covid restictions put a stop to that. As they were lifting I was making vague plans to go next spring. My brother Tony was an incredible person, the life and soul of EVERY party with a machine-gun laugh you could hear a mile away. His nickname at work had been “laughing gas”.

His loves and “raison de ëtre” were his family, Manchester City and music. Dementia took all those away from him in the final year. A cruel, cruel disease.

I hummed and hawed whether to go back for the funeral, I had hoped to go back to cuddle him not to bury him. However really I knew that I had to go and be with my family. I had not seen any of my family in person for 6 years.

We are a very large family. I have two brothers and two sisters, and many nieces, nephews, cousins, great nieces great nephews. I am the “baby” of the family, my parents having a 10 year gap between having children, so I am closer in age to my nieces and nephews than maybe is usual.

Unfortunately my older sister Susan is also ill with dementia in a care home, the rest of us are getting a bit worried as my mother had dementia too. I am hoping that all these years of studying Spanish will save me- they say learning another language helps so get those Spanish books out!!!

One of her daughters Kimberly very kindly offered to put me up and so I booked my flight and was ready to go on Saturday the 23rd October to return Friday the 29th. On Saturday the 30th I had a “Conversation Saturday” booked.

On Friday the 22nd I was in class, half prepared for my trip the next day, but knowing I had the afternoon to finish off. I was flying at 10.30 the next morning so I knew it woild be an early start. At around 10 am it started to rain,- quite hard. 30 minutes later it was storming. I had one student in the classroom and one on Zoom, and another one arriving at 11.00 My Zoom student finished at 11 and the one arriving at 11 texted me to say she would come when the rain had abated a little.

Approx 10 minutes late my student in the classroom said “oh look, do you think we should go upstairs” and pointed to the door.

What seemed to be a mini-Tsunami was flooding in under the door.

Within 10 minutes it was up to our knees. I can honestly say we were both terrified. We were shaking and my heart was beating so fast I thought I would have a heart attack. It just happened so fast and there was this sense of total powerlessness at the force of the water coming in. In the 18 years I have been teaching in my basement this has NEVER happened before.

We grabbed what we could and came up the stairs to the living room. Water was coming in from above also as I leave the door open to the sun terrace for my dogs. The other student arrived and I thank God they were here to help me. The street was like a river, with chairs and tables floating down and cars submerged over their number plates.

It really was like a disaster movie. My students and I formed a chain gang, one of them actually wading through the water to get things and pass them up to the next girl, and then to me at the top, to salvage what we could. Again, luckily for me, they were much younger and fitter than me, otherwise I really don t know what I would have done.

The rain slowly subsided, the students went home as it was now safe. The garage was so full of water at one point my dog was swimming around in it like a little shark.

I so nearly decided not to go to the UK. There were supposed to be classes Monday with my other teacher but I did not have time to clear out the basement before leaving at 8 am the next morning. Not only that, physically I knew that I couldn´t. All my clothes I had packed were wet from the water coming from the roof, I dried what I could and took the rest damp to dry once I arrived.

My students messaged me and volunteered to come in on Monday to clean the classroom, I will always be forever grateful for how kind people are.

So I did go to Manchester the next morning.

I am a nervous flyer at the best of times. So many people on the flight not wearing masks did not help. The attitude from the Ryanair head steward was.”I ve been flying all through Covid and havent caught it yet”- Great.

Anyway, I arrived safely.

Although it was a sad occasion it was wonderful to see family and friends after all those years. Very emotional, laughing, crying, so many memories. Looking at photos, reading letters, a very intense time. I was so well looked after by my niece I cannot thank her enough.

The Monday after I arrived I received a text purportedly from NHS test and trace saying I had been in contact with someone with Covid and had to isolate for 10 days. Hmm. Obviously from that Ryanair flight where the steward had assured me I was safe. Maybe it was him that had tested positive?

Anyway I turned my phone off and did a test daily for the rest of my time there. I was always half expecting someone to turn up in a Hasmat suit and arrest me me, but to be quite honest I was not going to isolate for 10 days, miss the funeral and also in fact not be able to come back. I tested negative every day and that had to do I m afraid.

Wednesday, the day of the funeral arrived. We left early as I wanted to call into the care home where my brother had spent his final 2 years and thank the staff. Alexander Lodge. Highly recommended. I had not met them but I had spoken to various of them several times when I had called by telephone. Two lovely girls answered the door and they knew who I was straight away. One of them was Spanish-speaking, and a subscriber to my You Tube channel. Her name is Haymar- Both girls were so nice and had lovely things to say about my brother. That he had a beautiful soul. That was enough to start us off with tears and that´s more or less the tone for the whole day. It had been absolutely pointless to put on our make-up that morning.

Haymar told me that she had many times put on the YouTube videos for Tony to watch and he had known who I was. I will be eternally grateful to her.

Earlier that morning my teacher had messaged me to say they had cleaned the class Monday, but when they had come to class Weds to actually do classes the water had come in again. I could not deal with it that day, I just had to say I m sorry but I could not answer any more.

Then when we got into the car, my son messaged to say that his landlord, a very strange guy with some real issues, had rang the water board to have them cancel the contract and take the meter away. He had no water. This was the end result of a long saga that I cannot even begin to go into here, but which started with a behind the wall water leak in the property that this fool seemed to think in some way was my sons fault for some reason.

He has threatened, insulted, taken illegal photos and videos. He has forged documents, forged signatures, and I have realised he has some severe issues and it is just best not to engage with him but to let the police deal with it.

We have all his threats and insults recorded and a denuncia is pending.

An illegal landlord that has behaved illegally in every way.

I was miles away and on my way to my brothers funeral. However, my friend very kindly went to bring my son home as he could not live without water. Although this seemed a disaster at first this idiot actually did us an enormous favour. I could not have sorted everything when I returned without Jack´s help.

I believe in karma and sometimes things happen for a reason. This actually was the best thing that could have happened so I feel enormous gratitude- If you are reading this- thank you so much.

The other thing that happened was my emails disappeared. If you have a website and you are thinking of changing your domain to another company- my advice would be- don´t do it!! I was not happy with the company I was using so decided to transfer the domain to another company. My bad (though if they would have mentioned just once that this would mean losing my emails- I would not have done it. )

My emails are with the same company but are paid separately so I just thought they would stay. Apparently I should have read the small print on the website. They were immediately cancelled and those emails I have used for over 15 years for both personal and business use. I am currently trying my best to recover them, and my website. I have certainly learnt my lesson.

So finally I arrived home on the Friday to pretty much chaos, my son has a German Shepherd and I have 2 dogs and a cat (which I have now rehomed- Princess Tia does not like cats so that was an accident waiting to happen). Again the flight was a bit fraught as far as mask-wearing was concerned. Note to self- do not fly from Manchester to Alicante on a Friday. I was joined on that flight by members of the “Benidorm Brigade” who all seemed to be Covidiots. No wonder cases are so high in the UK.

The flight attendants seemed to be scared to tell them to put their masks on. The pilot made an announcement many times, even threatening arrest on arrival at the airport, but it made no difference

I was rewarded with some karma though, there and then. One charming (not) woman sitting directly behind me whose every other word began with “f” and ended with “k” knocked her full vodka and orange that had cost her eighteen pounds seventy five pence all over herself. I had not thought her language could be any more colourful but actually it could.

I got up at 6 the following morning and cleaned out the classroom so we could go ahead with the Saturday Conversation class- we made it. I think the students enjoyed it and that is all that matters. Gradually I am getting back to normal. whatever that is- Just dreading the next time it rains.

Thank you for reading.

May your God go with you, see you soon for another instalment- hopefully not so chaotic!!

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NEARLY ARRESTED FOR STEALING A CAR/ CASI DETENIDA POR ROBAR UN COCHE

I was chatting with my good friend Martine the other day, about this blog and the book coming out soon. My brain is gradually de-frazzling from the awful hot summer we have had and I am moving along with it now.

If and when you read the book, you will see that Martine is the friend that brought me here in the first place many years ago.

Any of you who have been coming here for a while may remember that in those days when you rented a small car it was always a Fiat Panda. I actually love those little cars and would have one now. Economical, reliable, easy to maintain and repair.

We were here for a months holiday over Christmas. You will see in the book that was a very significant time as it was when I discovered that I was pregnant. At the time of this story I had not yet found out.

We had parked up outside VillaMartin, a local Centre with many bars, restaurants and a supermarket, to buy something, I don´´´´t remember what.

We came out and got into our car, Martine was driving. As we set off I noticed a pair of sunglasses on the dash and I picked them up, tried them on, and opened the glove compartment to put them in.

“The previous renter must had left these” I said.

In the glove compartment I was delighted to find a packet of cigarettes, almost full.

As I say, I didn´t know yet that I was pregnant and I was a smoker then. Also I was a student and money was tight, so to find an almost full packet of cigarettes was great news.

I lit one up as we drove along, and put the sunglasses back on.

I actually cannot remember what made us finally realise, but suddenly we did. We were in the wrong car!!

We came to a screeching halt. Our key had not only opened the door it had started the engine. We looked over to see our actual car parked expectantly where we had left it, a few cars down from this one.

They were identical Fiat Pandas, only the registration was different.

We hurriedly parked and I spat out the cigarette and returned the sunglasses to the dash. I just had a vision of the real owner approaching to find me sat in his/her car smoking his/her cigarettes and wearing his/ her sunglasses.

We did not park it where we had found it as this place was now occupied, so I often wonder if this poor guy/woman wondered how the hell the car had moved itself from where it was parked.

And one cigarette missing from the packet haha

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish or English student yourself you may find the following links to my social media useful:

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The book “Confessions of a Spanish Teacher” (unexpurgated) will be out for sale before the New Year, pre-orders are 10 euros, please contact vicki.riley@elprincipecentre.com if you would like to order a copy. After release it will be 15 euros.

REAL-LIFE CRIMEWATCH

(AN EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK)

When this relationship (thankfully) ended, I decided to do something with my life and train to be a manager. Times had changed, the Thatcher recession of the time meant jobs were no longer easy to find, especially in the North, that had suffered the most.

I was successful, much to the chagrin of many of my workmates- women especially. That was the first time I saw that envy is such a common and ugly thing. This was a surprise for me, because although I have many, many faults, envy is not one of them. I love hearing people´s good news and successes, especially women.

In Manchester female managers were put in “difficult” shops, ie in some of the roughest areas, because they were though to have a calming influence on difficult “punters”- customers. The shops were graded, 9 being the lowest and 1 the highest. New managers were put in grade 9 shops to start. Off I went to my new shop, exited to be a manageress. I was slightly less excited when I walked past it. It was so boarded up and shuttered up that you could not even see the Ladbrokes sign. It was a rough shop in one of the roughest areas of North Manchester.

The first night I was telephoned by the police in the middle of the night as the alarm was going off- the Satellite dish was stolen. Everything got stolen from that shop… Put the scissors down for a moment as you were putting up the papers in the morning- they were gone. The toilet paper disappeared. No one (except me- they were ok with me- they wanted the bookies to stay open) could park outside really without getting their car broken into.

It was in Manchester I got into the habit of never locking my car door. If you locked it, they would smash the window. Best to let them open the door and have a look inside. Just don’t leave anything valuable and use a crook lock so they couldn’t steal it. Insurance companies stopped paying out on windows, so you didn’t want your window smashed.

Watching Crimewatch Uk was always fun at that time, as I saw many mugshots of my regulars. Usually for credit card fraud, robbery, or drugs- never murder or rape. I did not ring in- you did not grass if you wanted to stay in one piece, it was an unspoken rule. Only for murdet, rape or crimes against children were you allowed to grass.

The offenders would disappear for a little while and then reappear with a beard or some change in appearance. I remember one day a guy came in to check he had the right shop to deliver a new TV, the previous one had been stolen. He popped in and then back to his car. In those few minutes someone had parked behind him, smashed his back window to get at the new TV, then legged it as they saw him come out. Their car was still there with the door open and the engine running. He had taken the keys and come back into the shop to ask me to ring the police.

As he was telling me the story, the owner of the keys entered the shop behind him. A regular customer. He asked him in no uncertain terms to give him his f@@@ing keys back.

– “Quick- ring the police”- the hapless driver says to me.

Well, not being funny but I was not prepared to put my safety, and actually more likely his, in danger over a television. I was at least behind the screen and safe for the moment. He was vulnerable in the shop and the other customers would have been friends of the regular customer. These guys have their code and may think twice about hurting a woman. But most definitely would not hesitate in hurting a man who got in their way.

-Give him the keys first and then I will ring the police- I said

At first it looked like he was going to argue, but as the guy advanced on him menacingly and circled him with the other customers he seemed to suddenly realise the precariousness of his position.

He gave him the keys.

The guy disappeared. I can´t remember if he took the tele with him or not.

I rang the police then. I knew they would not blame me for this, they didn´t blame you for ringing the police. They knew you had to make a report for the insurance. But you could not back someone into a corner and lead to them being arrested without repercussions. That was the reality of life as a betting shop manager in a shop like that.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish or English student yourself you may find the following links useful:

If you would like to pre order a copy of the book which will be published end of September/ November for 10 euros ( published price will be 15 euros) please contact info@elprincipecentre.com

I BELIEVE IN ANGELS/ CREO EN LOS ANGELITOS

Belief is a strange thing. If you truly believe in something, does it make it true? People have such different beliefs, and many people are truly convinced that their particular beliefs are the truth, especially as far as religion is concerned.

I am not a fan of religion, especially exclusive ones that declare themselves comehow “chosen” and more special than everyone else. I watch a lot of true crime videos, and you can be certain that the killer will be the “God fearing, church going, family person” nine times out of ten.

However, I see the point of it. It can unite people and it can offer solace and comfort. As long as it is a tolerant religion and not hypocritical I can respect it. As long as I am not expected to blindly follow it.

I consider myself spiritual but not religious, and respectful of anyone else´s choices. Certain things have happened to me in lif that have convinced ne that a higher power exists, though I lose belief sometimes and have to remind myself. This story is one such experience.

My mother suffered from vascular dementia. She had a series of strokes after the death f my father and became progressively worse. One such time I set off to visit her, travelling to the UK by car so I could travel around and also as I hate flying. My son Jack was about 7 years old. it was just the 2 of us.

The journey there was a dream. No problems, we stayed overnight in a truck stop in Cahors France. Me, Jack and about 50 French lorry drivers. I would definitely recommend these kind of places. Really good value and fantastic food. My experiences in France have never been particularly good to be honest, but this was one of the better ones.

On arrival at Dover we went first to Reading for the birthday party of a friend and had a great few days. We carried on to Manchester to visit my Mum as she was in hospital. This too funnily enough was enjoyable, spending quite a lot of time with my Mum. Jack was the darling of the old ladies ward, helping a lady with only one arm and leg to open things and not batting an eyelid at some of the unladylike sitting positions of the others. He helped me brush my Mun´s false teeth and wash her hair, and it was so sad when the few days were up.

Although my mum was away with the fairies by then, she did come back enough to say “I don´t want you to go” as I explained to her we had to return to Spain. This broke my heart as I knew I would never see her again, I just felt it. She was so frail and confused. I´m just glad we did get that time together.

Off we went, stopping again overnight at my friends in Reading, then back on to the Ferry to return to Spain from Calais.

We arrived in Calais with 120 euros in cash, my credit cards and mobile phone. I didn´t have much petrol and considered finding somewhere straight away, but figured as I was travelling on the toll roads there were bound to be plenty of them, right?

Wrong. Word of wisdom (may have changed now), but there were NO petrol stations for ages and ages. These were the days before Google. Now you could just Google the nearest one and come off the motorway, but I was too scared to do so then and either get lost or run out of petrol. So I took an executive decision and stopped at one of those SOS phones, to phone for help and not take the chance of running out far from a phone and have to walk with Jack to the phone.

My telephone was not working, I had no signal, must have been when roaming wasn´t so easy as it is now, and no telephone had Whatsapp or internet then. I can´t complain about the speed the guy arrived, he was there within ten minutes with a can of petrol.

120 euros- shit. An expensive tank of petrol.

Never mind, I would pay by card.

Card didn´t work- double shit.

On that trip France was like the Twilight Zone for me- nothing wotked. Phone, credit card, debit card.

I had 120 euros in cash, but that was ALL I had. And I was just beginning my journey really. I had to pay tolls, get more petrol, and pay for a stay over. What could I do?

Do you have another card? he asked.

I was about to say no, then I remembered I did have the card details of an ex boyfriend of mine, but not the card. This, like everything in my life, is a long story. Basically this was a guy I had had a relationship with many years before when I lived in Reading but we were still in touch. He lived in Gibraltar. Earlier that year he had invited Jack and I to stay with him in Seville for a couple of days, and given me the card details to book the hotel.

To cut a long story short, it turned out that he had different views of that trip than I did and I had left early after barricading him out of the room- we had not spoken since. I gave the card details to the guy on the roadside, I had the card number expiry date and security code. I told him it was not my card and I didn´t have the card itself, he said no problem. I think he was just glad to get paid and get home. The relief when that payment proceseesd was palpable for both of us.

I know my (ex) friend wouldn´t be happy but what else could I do at the time? I would make it right later.

So we set off again. I was rushing a little as I wanted to get over the border to Spain before it got dark, and this had taken time. I planned to stop somewhere then, presuming my phone and card would start wotking again over the border.

An hour later the Traffic Gendarmarie pulled me over for speeding.

Triple shit.

Anyone of you who live in Spain and think the Guardia are tough they have nothing on these for nastiness. Maybe it was the language barrier as my French is not as good as it was before Spanish took over, but they were nasty. I just think if you are dealing with a woman obviously upset with a seven year old boy in the car you could at least be a bot nicer no matter what nationalty they were.

The fine was 120 euros and I had to pay it there and then in cash. I tried to explain that that was literally EVERYTHING I had, and that my phone was not working, my cards were not working, and I would not have enough money to stay over anywhere or even get to Spain, where i was sure I could at least ring someone for help or my cards would work again.

They were not interested. I think their exact words in broken English were- “You no pay you stay here”.

I think my hysterical cring did rub off a little bit, and they did say “follow us”, I presume they were going to take us to the police station or something. But I couldnt face it, I had to get home I had work the day after next. I gave them the money and I set off again hoping I at least had enough petrol to get over the border to Spain, and travelling on the a roads instead of the motorway to avoid tolls.

I drove through the night. Jack slept through it all luckily, as I was getting more and more anxious. Petrol was going down and down and I was getting tired, but I didnt want to stop as I was scared.

It was the early hour of the morning.

I prayed.

Suddenly a service station loomed up. One of those quite big ones that you come across on roads where many people travel. I do not remember where I was at the time though it was not far from the border, but still in France.

I had to go to the toilet so I woke Jack and in we went.

It was deserted and quite eerie. Just us and the person behind the counter, I don´t remember if it was a man or a woman.

It was a big service station and there were loads of loos, none occupied.

We went into one of maybe 30 choices.

I could have gone into any of those toilets, but I chose that one.

On the cistern looking at me was a small red Radley change purse.

Radley has a Scotty dog motif on the front.

In that purse was a 50 euro note and a couple of euros in change.

No cards, no ID, literally that was it.

That´s why I believe in angels.

I bought some petrol and continued over the border into Spain, where everything worked once more. My phone, my cards, I have never felt so much relief as I arrived in my beloved adopted country. That was the first time I knew Spain really was my home, and I am meant to be here for better or worse.

France- forget it.

I still have the purse, I use it every time I travel.

Whenever I look at it I remember why I believe that angels will help you if you ask them.

My friend was quite angry at first about his card, but we are still friends 🙂

And you? Do you believe in Angels? Have you ever had a similar experience?

Please let me know.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish or English student yourself you may find the following links useful:

MYSTIC VICKI

This last week I have been reminded of both how lovely most people are and how they try their hardest to learn Spanish. Also of how great it feels when students enjoy the courses and see an improvement on their Spanish as a result of our classes.

Unfortunately I have also been reminded of how difficult and disagreeable some people can be and unreasonable in their expectations.

We can only give people the tools for learning Spanish we cannot learn it for them or improve their lives or personalities unfortunately.

Last Saturday was the Conversation Saturday. One lady had actually booked in quite a while ago. I thought she had studied Spanish with me many moons earlier, she said she knew enough Spanish to have a conversation. The day before the course she sent me a message asking for the address which I duly sent, and told her there would be a pink van parked outside, and that we started at 10:00.

Saturday arrived, along with the other students and the Spanish speakers, but this lady did not arrive. So we started without her. I went upstairs to work on the computer. 20 minutes later the doorbell rang and it was her.

I looked out of the window, I did not want to open the door as my dogs were barking and I didn´t want them to run out and scare her. I told her through the window the classes were downstairs- and I could see immediately she was not happy. An elderly lady, I worried she might have a problem going down the ramp:

“Are you ok?” I aked

“I suppose so”- she barked, “How do I get in?”

“Well you just go down and knock and the teacher will let you in- Would you like to come in this way instead?”

“No” she snapped.

2 minutes later I heard the door open downstairs so I knew she had entered.

I carried on working upstairs and could hear a lot of talking going on so presumed that it was going well. About 15 minutes later I heard the door open again and everyone calling “adiós” and “hasta luego”. I looked out of the window and the lady was walking off up the road.

One of the Spanish speakers came up to tell me what had happened. Apparently she had come in with a face like thunder (“con mala leche” as we say in Spanish), complaining that she had been walking around San Miguel for 30 minutes, that she had thought the course was in the restaurant, that she needed water and a chair.

Both those were there waiting for her so she sat down and the Spanish speakers tried to reassure her by drawing her gently into the conversation.

“¿Qué haces en Navidad? – What do you do at Christmas?”

“No me gusta Navidad- I don´t like Christmas”

“¿Tienes mascotas?- Do you have any pets?”

“No me gustan las mascotas- I don´t like pets”

And more in that vein, short, irritated answers.

I mean, how dare you ask questions on a conversation course?

Finally, she snapped “I have to go” and stood up and went to the door. The teacher asked her-

“Are you ok?”

“YES”

“Do you want me to call Vicki down?

“N0”

She snarled—

To be honest it was a relief. When we went for out lunch later Maria from the restaurant said she had been in there looking for me and she had pointed her in the right direction.

Why – I have no idea. I had sent her the address and told her exactly where it was. However, her leaving meant the course went smoothly and everyone enjoyed it so much. I hope she is ok, but sometimes people are their own worse enemies. You do not do a conversation course if you don´t want to speak, and being “mayor” is no an excuse for being “antipática”.

Ironically, later on the Monday a few days later I saw a post on one of the buy and sell sites from someone asking for recommendations for Spanish classes. This very same lady answered recommending her daughter who apparently does Spanish classes in 6 different bars!! Now I am even more confused why she even booked on to our course. You just could not make it up.

So that was Saturday. Then on the Sunday I was already feeling nervous due to some new students who were starting Monday with whom there were already problems.

This couple had booked the last 2 spaces on the course starting that day. Then a week earlier, the lady had messaged me to say that they had been over to check the location and there may be a problem. Was there a window? As she was claustrophobic. (Our classes are held in the underbuild of my house.)

So I said no, there wasn´t, but it was not a small pokey basement, it was large and spacious and light. However, they could sit upstairs if they preferred, where there was plenty of natural light instead.

Oh no, she said, they wouldn´t want to be separate from the rest of the group.

Ah ok, well they would be separate anyway as people can´t sit together due to Covid? But fine, they could sit right next to the door and we could leave the door open then as it was coming to summer anyway…

Oh no, she said, she wouldn´t want to inconvenience the other students.

Ah ok. In the end I promised we would find a solution one way or another.

I restrained then from saying that is claustrophobia was a real issue for you in my eyes it would be imperative that you looked into all this before booking.

Although many years ago I dressed up as a gypsy fortune teller for a charity event, I am not really Mystic Vicki, and funnily enough could not have known this lady was claustrophobic before. Not once in over 10 years of teaching here has this ever been an issue, and so why would I ask?

The terms and conditions of bookings stated quite clearly on the website are that monetary refunds are never given, though I always try to offer alternatives if someone cannot do a course for any reason. This lady seemed to be insinuating that I should have asked first if she was claustrophobic for some unknown reason, and the reason I didn´t was some sinister one.

Anyway, they arrived for classes and predictably she did not even sit down and try. She was “going already” according to her as soon as she walked in. We had positioned them next to the door and left the door open, but this was not good enough as she had to see the street “properly” whatever that means.

I absolutely have total sympathy for anyone who is claustrophobic, it is awful, but I just cannot imagine why you would book on to a course, or in fact anything without finding out if the place was suitable for you first. If your claustrophobia was so bad surely you would always want to ensure wherever you were going was within your parameters of tolerance.

However, apparently it was all my fault as I should have known by osmosis that she was claustrophobic and let her know there was no window. I should be “ashamed of myself” according to her and they had been advised to make a denuncia. (Denounce me for not being psychic?) Also she was going to blacken my name on Facebook

Well. I have had had worse threats and actually the more nasty she became the less bad I felt about the whole situation and the more my sympathy dissipated. I just wonder when it became my responsibility to work out if other people are claustrophobic or not? Maybe I should add to my adverts- not for persons with claustrophobia?

I mean, is it me? I always try to put my students first and be as flexible as possible, but being clairvoyant I really cannot promise. I still offered her the option of sitting upstairs or even joining in on Zoom, or converting to private classes, but no. She was determined from the start to not be happy with whatever I offered.

Another happy customer 🙂

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW- COVID DIARIES PART 3- PART 2

So I had waited 3 months since having an ECG and blood test in preparation for my cataract surgery with no news of a date. I was starting to think I had been forgotten.

Part of me was quite happy as I was simply dreading the thought of my eye being oprerated on. Everything i had read on the subject was encouraging, routine surgety these days with a minimal risk of complications apparently. However, it was nott routine for me I was frankly terrified.

I did not want to be blind though. I could see perfectly well out of the other eye but it occured to me if anything went wrong with that one, I literally would not be able to see at all. So I rang up just to make sure I was still on the list, and was assured everything was in order and I would be notified in due course.

Spain was really getting into the Covid vaccination programme, and I was happy to wait as I could see that this was more important than my eye. We were all so desperate to return to some kind of normality. I sat back and thought I may have to wait until the summer. Just as I was relaxing into this thought, a week later on the Tuesday the telephone rang and I knew instantly is was the health service as they always ring from one of those really long numbers.

Thursday- blood test in local Health Centre

Monday- Covid test in local Health Centre

Wednesday- Operation at Torrevieja hospital at 14:30

I was fine at first, I just accepted my fate. I knew I was lucky to be offerred this operation to recover the sight in my right eye. Many people in the world suffer this problem and are not blessed with the fantastic Health Service we have here in Spain.

My nerves increased slightly when Saturday arrived with a text informing me that my 1st Covid vaccination was planned for Thursday, the day following the operation, at 8.33 in the morning. I did not want to miss it but was not sure if I would be able to so soom after a medical intervention.

I enquired on the Monday when I went for my Covid test and was assured- no problem.

My nerves began to build as Wednesday approached, but I genuinely was fine until the morning actually arrived. I worked from 9:00 to 13:00 as normal, trying to keep busy to try to keep from overthinking. I told myself how lucky I was with both the op and the Covid jab, again something many people would love to have to feel safer. I think it was the fear of the unknown, and that it was my EYE. I seriously considered calling it off many times during that day.

Finally 1:45 rolled around and my friend Jane arrived to take me to the hospital. She was the perfect person, so calm but caring. My nerves were mounting. I made a tearful farewell to my dogs as if I would never see them again and off we went. By the time we were there and I was waiting to be called I was trembling with fear, but determined to go through with it and trying not to be a baby.

The last time I literally came so close to chickening out was as soon as I was called into the day surgery ward. I was taken to a curtained off area with some lockers and told to strip off to my panties, remove all my jewellry and put on two robes for surgery. This stopped me in my tracks for two reasons-

One ( I know seems ridiculous now) but I think this was the first time I realised it was an OPERATION I was going to have. I don´t know what I had imagined before then, something like sitting in a dentist chair while they did it, and I realised there and then it was going to be done in an OPERATING THEATRE

Two ( even more ridiculous) Earlier on visiting the loo I had realised I had my knickers on inside out. If you like me are from a working class Northern family your mum also might have had a superstition for everything as did mine. No umbrellas up in the house, laughing in the morning crying in the evening, drop a knife on the floor meant a gentleman calling.. The list is endless.

One of the many superstitions I was brought up on is that if you put anything on the wrong way round, ie t shirt inside out or , in my particular case that day, knickers, it would be bad luck to change them the right way around before the end of the day. Well the last thing I needed on the day of an eye operation was bad luck, so when I had realised earlier they were inside out I had not changed them. Now here I was being asked to strip off and all I could think was I had my knickers on inside out and how embarrassing. I knew this was the last chance I had to run as once I was in the theatre gowns it would not be possible to sneak out unobtrusively.

I am very proud to say that I held it together. I was flustered enough to emerge still wearing my sunglasses on the top of my head and was shaking so much I could not get my necklaces or earrings off, but the lovely nurse sorted all that out for me and thats when I did finally accept that I was going to go through with this. I did relax a little.

I was in chair 2 of a row of chairs similar to dentist chairs. In number 1 was an elderly Spanish guy who asked me “Te van a operar la vista también?” which I confirmed. Out of all the patients that came and went I was by far the youngest, and it was quite nice to be the youngest for a change 🙂

Apart from the guy I mentioned from chair one, and one other lady who were Spanish, all the other patients were foreign. British, German or Swedish. And apart from me, not one of these foreigners spoke Spanish. This led to some very entertaining scenes which helped with my nerves as they disappeared behind the curtains and reappeared in various states of undress, either not taking off enough clothes or taking off everything much to the nurses´dismay. It was like a Carry On film with the poor nurses struggling to male them understan, even though there was a picture on the wall in the cubicle showing you how you should dress.

Still, I bet none of them had their knickers on inside out.

Finally Juan from chair 1 was taken off to surgery in a wheelchair and I guessed I was next as I was in chair 2. He was brought back 30 minutes later and seemed cheerful enough, and it was my turn to be whisked away. Down the corridor up to the theatre, given oxygen and a mild sedative and somehow the right side of my face was frozen, but I can honestly say that I did not feel a thing.

During the operation, which took only 15 minutes from start to finish. was the first and only time that I did perhaps think that maybe it would be better if I did not understand Spanish. Torrevieja is a training hospital and the surgeon was explaining throughout to a presumed trainee what he was doing. Most of the time it was fine but there were two moments of concerm.

One when he said: “I am going to ….. (didn´t quite catch what) because if not I am worried that …. (again didn´t quite catch what) might happen”. Then again when the student said in what sounded like total astonishment “Ah really? Is that what you do? I never imagined that”, and the surgeon had to reassure him that whatever it was was correct.

It was a very surreal experience as I “watched” the cataract be doubled and removed, then the mew lens be inserted rather like an eclipse of the sun. And as I say, the whole operation took probably 15 minutes. Then I was sat up, back in the wheelchair and back to the reception area, where little old Juan from chair number one had already gone. A patch over my new bionic eye which I wan told to leave on til morning. .

I was offered a cafe con leche or zumo and some biscuits which was like music to my ears, as I had last eaten at 8 am and it was now after 4 pm. The “cafe con leche” tasted like nectar and the “galletas de Maria” like manna from heaven. I was allowed to get dressed and was moved to another chair as more people came in for the same operation.

I was feeling so relieved. I was trying to reassure the other people waiting as I´m sure they were as nervous as me. There was an elderly Swedish gentleman who was so happy to speak to someone in English he started asking me questions as if I was the doctor-

Him- Will I be able to take my usual medication tomorrow morning?

Me- Er, I don´t know

Him- How long will it be before I get my other eye done?

Me- Er, best to ask the doctor I don´t actually know funnily enough.

As I was waiting for my discharge papers another foreign woman came out of her bay naked twice, much to the mortification of the nurses. I wondered how often they are subjected to exposure of flesh from people who don´t understand instructions. The nurses didn´t speak much English but they shouted in unison “no, put it on!!!” in very practised English, so I´m guessing quite often. 🙂

By 6:30 I was home, 4 strong vodkas and some pasta later I was in bed.

I slept well and was up at 6 a.m to walk my dogs as I had my Covid jab the next morning. I gingerly removed my eyepatch reminded of Jack Nicholson and the Joker as I cautiously looked in the mirror. I had this awful fear that I wouldn´t be able to see or that my eye would be a mess. The total opposite, I could see almost perfectly and apart from what seemed to be a strange lens above the iris of my eye it just looked the same. I thought at first it was a contact lens or something that had been put there to protect where the surgery had been done, but when I went for my checkup later that day the doctor told me it was an air bubble that had been created as a protection and it would dissipate over time. So clever.

Off I went (again driven by my lovely friend Jane) to have my Covid jab. I was so relieved to have the eye operation over with I did not even feel ny jab , it was a walk in the park. I like people watching, and I was struck by how people react so differently to things. Some people just look away, take the jab and don´t make a fuss. Other people are so dramatic, screwing their eyes shut and wincing, coming out clutching their arm as if they have been shot. Haha.

I wanted to say “hey you think this is bad, I just had an EYE operation!!” Cocky now and proud of myself, as if I had never nearly not gone through with it. The next day I was back in class.

I am so grateful for the fantastic treatment I received and feel truly privileged and lucky to have been blessed with both a “new” eye and a vaccination against Covid 19. I want to finish this story by sending out love respect and prayers to all the people out there of all ages facing bravely much worse medical challenges and interventions. You are awesome and an inspiration to the rest of us who are not. Especially to one of my nieces who is facing one such challenge tomorrow.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW- COVID DIARIES 3 PART 1

If you are a reader who also follows my YouTube channels, you may know that last year, (2020) on the very first weekend of the “confinamiento” in Spain due to Covid 19, in March, I had a little accident.

I was washing my hair in the shower (one of those showers that go into a bath) and I slipped on some conditioner. fell. and banged my eye on the side of the bath.

I banged it so hard I gave myself a lovely big black eye that can be seen clearly on the videos I made around that time. I actually think I broke my nose as I have a little dent next to the eye socket. I have never washed my hair in the shower since!!

I did not go to the doctors or the hospital although I am sure I had concussion.

Covid was rife, hospitals were full, and what would they do anyway?

The black eye faded, I survived, and as time went on I practically forgot about it though as I say I was extra careful in the shower ever since. Time went on, and in September classroom classes restarted and things started to get a little more back to normal. I spent a lot of time on the computer finishing off a few book projects and updating my Break The Language Barrier series. My right eye started to feel a little tired, and I started to notice a slight blurriness of vision.

Being one of those people that is absolutely useless at going to the doctors, I put it down to eye strain and waited for it to improve, resting my eyes as often as possible.

It didn´t..

Increasingly I felt I was viewing the world from this eye through frosted glass, though luckily for me the vision in my other eye was very good so I could function perfectly well. As Christmas approached, I gave up thinking it would improve and contacted my doctor who immediately made me an appointment with the eye specialist. By now I was panicking as I suffer from high blood sugar which I was not controlling well, and I was starting to think maybe it was connected with this.

I also wondered about the bang I had given my eye, had I detached my retina or anything similar? As we know, Google is great in some ways but can also give you sleepless nights!! I turned up for my appointment very concerned.

The young girl I saw on the first appointment was lovely though seemed about 12. A sure sign of old age when doctors and policemen start to look like children. She started off by saying it was probably related to the fall, couldn´t be a cataract as they came on very slowly not so quickly, then on further investigation saw that, ah yes, it was a cataract in fact.

I was absolutely gobsmacked. Moi? A cataract? Only old people have cataracts. Ah hang on, I will be 60 soon, how the hell did that happen?

The nice girl told me that trauma to the eye can in fact cause or accelerate a cataract, but the good news was it was easy to remove. I was given another appointment where the cataract was confirmed and the process began leading to an operation.

Google was quite reassuring in success rate of cataract surgery so I duly went along for my blood test and cardiogram. Apart from the fact that my blood sugar was wildly out of control (that´s another story- now controlled) I was fit to go from February and told to wait for the call for a Covid test to be followed shortly by an operation date.

In the meantime Covid (are you as fed up as I am of that word?) had taken hold again here and we were again under restrictions, with hospitals full again. A couple of months rolled by with no news, but to be honest it was not getting any worse and I had learned to live with it. As my other eye was fine it really didn´t affect my normal life and I wasn´t looking forward to the prospect of surgery being a complete wuss.

The more I started to contemplate the fact that I was going to actually have surgery on my EYE the more terrified I became. Perhaps it would be better if they just forgot about me, what did I need two good eyes for when I was coping well one?

Eventually I did call as things started to open up again and was told yes, all good, wouldn´t be long. Bloody brilliant.

By then Spain was getting on with the vaccine rollout, so I was happy to wait as in my eyes ( pardon the pun) they had so many more important things to do. I put it to the back of my mind and just got on with enjoying our new freedoms as restrictions lifted bit by bit.

Then last week, it all happened…

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

SPANISH IN A THONG/ ESPAÑOL EN UNA TANGA

Another enduring traumatic memory I have of teaching Spanish in peoples home is “thong-gate”. No, not me in a thong you will be glad to hear. Personally I have always thought thongs were uncomfortable and hideous and don’t look good on anyone unless the have a flawless body, especially men. (sorry)

One day I had the unfortunate experience of finding this to definitely be true..

Thong is Spanish is “tanga” and I was definitely tanga-ed that day.

Karen was a nice enough lady who I had been teaching Spanish to for several weeks over the winter in her home. I had also had the dubious pleasure of taking her husband Billy to the hospital a couple of times as his interpreter. Interpreting is another source of interesting experiences I will be looking at in this blog. I didn’t like him much, he was arrogant and nasty, and to all accounts he wasn´t averse to laying hands on Karen when he had had a drink.

Alcohol is a bit problem in the Ex Pat community in Spain, it is cheap, the sun is normally shining, and most of us tend to drink more here than in the UK, certainly years ago.

As winter changed to spring the temperatures increased and I went around there one beautiful morning and Karen suggested we take class on the patio as it was so nice. I agreed, and all was well until about fifteen minutes in when Billy suddenly appeared and walked past us to go and lie by the pool, and guess what he was wearing? And a very small one at that. It left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

At first I thought “poor guy, he will be mortified, he mustn’ t have realised I was here”.

After the 5th or 6th time he walked past in so many minutes it dawned on me that it was possible it might be because I was there. I looked beseechingly at Karen but she totally ignored him and just concentrated on her worksheet. Seated and trapped on the very small patio, I was at eye level with Billy´s budgie smugglers every time he walked past, and was regaled with a lovely back view as he went past to the pool.

I wouldn´t have liked it even if he was a Chippendale, and Billy wasn´t ….. He was at least 65 years old and he was thin, and I mean thin, almost emaciated, with the leathery brown skin you get if you sunbathe too much here. From the back looked he like two conkers rubbing together.

Thank God the class was only an hour long, because those last 45 minutes went very, very slowly. Billy pranced backwards and forward and stopped to chat often directly in front of me. It was horrible. To this day I cannot see a thong without a shudder going through me.

Most people I have taught Spanish to in their homes have been lovely and very welcoming, and have not worn thongs or been drunk 🙂

However, these bad experiences I did have, along with the fact I was getting busier and running out of time to drive from one student to another, meant I decided to find some premises to teach Spanish from so I did not have to go through this again. That is where Charlie.com came in and I will be talking about that soon.

But the next couple of “confessions” will be from some notable experiences I had as an interpreter many years ago.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, if you are a Spanish student yourself you may find the following links useful:

THE RECEPTIONIST/ LA RECEPCIONISTA

I always find it ironic that here in the expat community in Spain there are so many people looking for work, but when you need someone to do a job they are practically impossible to find.

The wages are low of course which doesn´t help. I have lived in Spain for 23 years and it seems to me wages have never gone up, in fact maybe have gone down. “La crisis” ( the recession) and lately Covid have stunted economic growth. Contracts are few and far between as it is so expensive in Spain to put your staff on contract, so few small business do it.

So it is quite depressing when you advertise for work as you receive hundreds of applications, few of which are appropriate. The first problem are people who have recently arrived in Spain. They have high UK – like wage expectations, (or wherever their country is) and they have not realised yet they will never be met. If they are, they will be expected to work practically 24 hours and sweat blood, especially if there is a contract on offer as well. Sometimes they will be lucky to get paid what they are promised at all, and may find out the contract they thought they were on in fact doesn´t exist.

My experiences of working for other people I will leave to another post. But basically bad experiences working for other people in Spain is the reason a lot of us work for ourselves. If you are going to be insecure anyway you may as well be insecure working for yourself.

So when Judy came along for an interview for a part time receptionist she was one of these. She had recently left her job working for a big and quite prestigous company in the UK and relocated to Spain. I should have been prepared because if she mentioned this company once she mentioned it a thousand times, so much so that a student who was there at her interview actually messaged me to say it takes a bullshittter to know one and he recognised her certainly as one.

I gave her the benefit of the doubt as I thought she was probably trying to impress, and she seemed to have a cheery personality and be very willing to please. Another clue I should have noticed however was that she seemed to have brought lots of things from this company with her, stationery etc. Anyway she seemed like the best of a not so brilliant bunch and she began work.

I am a very small business with a fluctuating income, even without Covid. Sometimes we are very busy, other times not so much. The job is varied, a little bit of anything that basically makes my life easier and Judy was aware of and agreed to this from the start. Some receptionists like the variance as I think it means the job is not boring, but maybe it wouldn´t suit everyone.

This is always made clear from the start, as it was to Judy, and she agreed enthusiastically. I did come to realise however her favourite part was sitting at her desk on the computer. In my experience people agree to everything in the beginning then try to change the parameters as they go along to suit themselves and make the job about them rather than you. Judy was one of those.

She “friended” nearly all the students on Facebook starting making a register even though that was something I did anyway, was glued to her phone often. In my opinion I don´t feel I should have to tell a woman of over 40 that this is not acceptable at work. She only worked part time so she had plenty of time outside work to sort out her personal life. However, in other things she was good no one is perfect so I turned a blind eye to a lot of things in the beginning.

As time went on, she started asking for more hours. She said that she liked the job but needed more hours. I tried my best to find them for her. Sometimes it is easier than others, depending on the time of year and how busy we are. After a while it became a constant strain so I had to admit I could only guarantee the part time hours she agreed to in the beginning, and I understood if she needed to look for a full time job. She said she would but she would give me plenty of notice. So things continued and I gave her as many extra hours as possible.

I constantly asked her if she had enough to do there is always something to do if you run out of work just let me know. Yes, she agreed. Another little irk I had was that she was always late. She did travel a long way, which was a concern I expressed at the beginning but of course she said it wouldn´t be a problem. The classes start at 9 and I wanted her to be here when the students arrived so I even started paying her from 8.45 to make sure she was there on time. Otherwise she would always arrive at gone 9.

This sort of boiled over one day when I had to be somewhere and waited until 8.50- no sign- and came out to find her sat in her car texting. I was a little miffed. The worst thing however was the day one of my (then Skype-now Zoom) students had to leave the class briefly as someone arrived at their house. It turned out to be longer than they though so I was amusing myself on the computer. The computer I use for Skype is the one Judy normally used.

So I clicked into the “history”

Very interesting-

Weeks of visits to various sites: Latest on X-Factor, Facebook, Google news, Colleen Rooney bust up, houses for sale. job applications, various entries to her personal gmail account etc etc. On one day there were 22 visits to it.

I was very hurt, as I had tried my best to give Judy as many hours as possible and it seems she had used many of those hours for her personal life. I did not mind the job applications etc but in her own time. If she had asked me to use the computer for an hour I would have agreed of course. But honesty is everything. That she had done this while telling me she had plenty of work to do to me was unforgivable. Or if it had only been a couple of personal things in one day- but not the extent it was. She only worked 3 days a week, she had plenty of her own time to see what was happening in the X Factor.

When I challenged her, initially what she said was: Oh, ok I went on the computer in my lunch break… Er you are paid straight through, you only work part time you do not get a lunch break, but 15 mins to eat something is fine. Anyway looking at your emails 22 times in your lunch break that you don´t have? Needless to say we parted company. I wish Judy well, she bought my books to learn Spanish and then immediately blocked me on Facebook and Whatsapp. Presumably she has enough friends now with all the students she added. She never apologised, I think she thought she was “entitled” to do that. At the big company she had worked for before it would have gone unnoticed.

Luckily, I have had nice receptionists too 🙂

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Book to learn Spanish: Break The Language Barrier Series

4 levels
Easy to follow
Explanations in English
Backed up by YouTube tutorials for listening and pronunciation
Completely revised and updated for 2021
Exercises, translations, conversation practices
Full internet support
Answer key included

Available on any Amazon site:

Amazon.com–

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=vicki+riley+Break+The+Language+Barrier&ref=nb_sb_noss

Amazon.co.uk-

https://www.amazon.co.uk/s?k=Vicki+Riley+Break+The+Language+barrier&i=stripbooks&ref=nb_sb_noss

Amazon.es-

https://www.amazon.es/Libros-Miss-Vicki-Marie-Riley/s?rh=n%3A599364031%2Cp_27%3AMiss+Vicki+Marie+Riley

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