Yesterday in many respects went surprisingly well in spite of the strikes...why you may ask? Well, the sun came out! If anything I think they chose the right day for it! The same can be said for today, I am sat in a t-shirt in January (a phrase that you would NEVER hear in England!), it is pinch-yourself time I think! Oh dear...I have just realised I am being typically English again and talking about the weather...hmmm, I am totally living up to the stereotype (well, apart from the fact I don't live on tea as people believe we do!).
Anyway, back to yesterday, alarm went off at 7 as per and thus began my walk to work as wasn't sure whether there'd be a bus or not and couldn't be bothered waiting just to find out that I'd wasted my time- to be fair the amount of people I saw on my trek I think there may have been a fair few people who had had the same idea! As expected there weren't too many people in the first 2 classes although 12 in my 9-10 was impressive! We watched a clip of Waterloo Road which was great as I usually watch it at home and haven't seen it for ages! Been talking about the Education System in England so it was good for the students to see a typical school and the day-to-day happenings (albeit a lot of it is dramatised given that teachers don't randomly have affairs in real life like on the TV!) Having said that seeing big classes in the lycée is strange given that when I was at college in England, the most I had in a class I think was 12 and the least being 2. Having said that numbers vary every year depending on the amount of people who choose the subject.(if any at all...). After that the students all wrote a letter that I am going to send to contacts I have in England (one being my Auntie and the others being my former teachers/Heads of Department).
Had 3 hours to kill between classes, so for part of my break I sat in a rather vacant staffroom chatting to my mate in Paris on the computer, then went out for a walk where I saw the protesters marching through the street and the police cordons, got lunch and then consquently returned to my place in front of the computer and carried on chatting to my mate who had the luxury of the strike being on his day off otherwise he would have had major issues trying to get to work...so could well have been off anyway! Some people are so jammy, haha!
At 1 I went to see if any of my students would turn up and 2 did...just to tell me that as there were so few of them who had come the teacher wanted to keep them all as it would be pointless to split them up. I then went back to the staffroom and you guessed it...went back on the computer until I had another class at 2 (well, not exactly my class, Blake has gone off to Sweden for the weekend so I stood in for him voluntarily) where we did the same lessons as we had previously done in the morning although we also talked about the differences between the French and English education systems (of which there are numerous).
Upon finishing work I went for a swift coffee with the teacher I had worked with for all the 3 classes I had had before heading home. Was able to take the bus home, though ended up waiting around 40 minutes for it...if I hadn't had my i-pod I think I'd had walked, although having said that my bag was full to bursting with shopping, so in hindsight the bus was the better option.
I know the effects of the stike yesterday were felt all over Europe as when I was looking on the website for our local newspaper in England I saw that it got a mention, which in a way I found amusing.
Anyhow, by all accounts it has been a rather eventful week in South-West France!
Friday, January 30, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Visits!
Seems I may well be welcoming friends and family to Pau over the course of the next few months as I have a list of people who want to come and visit me (that and have a cheap break in the process...I know that game I have done it myself numerous times and will do it again upon finishing work at the end of April!), which is all very exciting! :) Maybe the most interesting of all the visits (that is when people actually get round to telling me exact dates and organising things instead of just telling me they're coming) will probably be that of my Mum who is planning on coming just before I break up for Easter ( we'd fly back together...already have this all worked out!) as she has only ever visited France twice before which was to Paris and Boulogne about 25 years(ish!) ago and my brother, Robert who is hopefully coming in May has never been to France. I will be very interested in finding out what he makes of everything although having said that, given his passion (otherwise known as obsession) for motorbikes I think he will be rather impressed with the array of bikes on French roads, so in that respect I think I'm on to a winner already! Some of the other people are my friends from university who are also doing years abroad in France this year and want to see more of the country (as do I!), so it will be nice to see them and be able to catch-up properly given that I haven't seen any of them since May last year due to having to dash off to do a summer job in Italy/Spain, so couldn't hang around after exams given that the company gave me 4 days notice...not exactly ideal hence me running around like a headless chicken with Mum not far behind! Will be nice to hear all their France stories to and to tell them all mine (most of whom I think have already heard some via the internet, but even so). In March the term-abroaders are coming to Pau too, so then phase two of the Leeds invasion gets underway and I can see a friend I haven't seen since first year (She spent last year in China for her year abroad as she studies Chinese and French), so that is going to be great!! In all honesty...bring it on! Can't wait!! :)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
jeudi noir...or how to do things the French way....
I have to say, I was beginning to wonder when another strike would grace our presence given that the last one was a good month ago and this one sounds like a monster of a strike it has to be said, hence my friend Kris who is teaching in Paris referring to it as 'jeudi noir' as from the way he was talking about it, it sounds as though everything is literally going to come to a complete standstill! With it being national, I myself am somewhat wondering whether the same thing is going to happen in Pau as up to now I am aware that teachers and public transport workers are striking (hence me having to walk to work on Thursday at around 7am, not ideal but I don't have a choice!) but I wonder whether it is going to affect all sectors like in Paris...I'm sure I'll find out in due course!
In comparison to in England, I have to say that it is so strange to witness strikes and protests in France. At home people seem to be a lot more reserved and everyone complains amongst themselves but never do anything active or practical to solve whatever it is and make it better, whereas the French seem to be completely the opposite which in all honesty I applaud as they want people to know of their discontent and to make things better. Protests aren't that common either in England, although having said that there are numerous at uni from societies etc although I suppose that's just part of student life. I think it is tolerated more at uni than earlier in education because when I was at Secondary School, there were some students who wanted to go and join the protest against the war in Iraq in the town centre and we all got told if anybody went it would be classed as truancy and we would be excluded...I do see why, but at the same time is it denying someone their right to freedom of speech and freedom of expression? I don't know...
Students have never been on strike though, I don't think anyone would dream of it to be honest, I know I never have and even strikes in the workplace aren't overly common although when there is a pay-rise to be had or whatever people jump at the chance! The only people who can't strike in England are the Police as it is illegal, it hasn't stopped them doing once or twice, but it's all swings and roundabouts at the end of the day. No doubt Thursday will be eventful in one way or another! Wish me luck...
In comparison to in England, I have to say that it is so strange to witness strikes and protests in France. At home people seem to be a lot more reserved and everyone complains amongst themselves but never do anything active or practical to solve whatever it is and make it better, whereas the French seem to be completely the opposite which in all honesty I applaud as they want people to know of their discontent and to make things better. Protests aren't that common either in England, although having said that there are numerous at uni from societies etc although I suppose that's just part of student life. I think it is tolerated more at uni than earlier in education because when I was at Secondary School, there were some students who wanted to go and join the protest against the war in Iraq in the town centre and we all got told if anybody went it would be classed as truancy and we would be excluded...I do see why, but at the same time is it denying someone their right to freedom of speech and freedom of expression? I don't know...
Students have never been on strike though, I don't think anyone would dream of it to be honest, I know I never have and even strikes in the workplace aren't overly common although when there is a pay-rise to be had or whatever people jump at the chance! The only people who can't strike in England are the Police as it is illegal, it hasn't stopped them doing once or twice, but it's all swings and roundabouts at the end of the day. No doubt Thursday will be eventful in one way or another! Wish me luck...
The Barcelona Project
This is a story my best mate wrote about us in the future, we are all immortalised in the story though under different identities, see if you can figure out which one I am :P :
The Barcelona Project
Once upon a time there lived a beautiful, intelligent, witty, thoughtful and talented young girl called Grace, who lived a life of luxury in a large flat in the south of France, with her wonderfully artistic mother, her good-humoured and sporty adoptive father, her two lively and vivacious younger sisters, and the Prince Charming, also known as Bob Lennon.
There was also a slightly younger, but equally beautiful, intelligent, witty, thoughtful and talented girl called Jasmine, who lived in north Manchester in her dream house with her strong and clever mother and her sweet comedian younger brother, and her faithful dog.
Despite living so far away, the two intelligent, witty, thoughtful and talented young girls were the best of friends and were like honourary sisters. They knew exactly what they were going to do with their lives: Jasmine was going to become a linguist, Grace a writer, and Bob was going to take over the world. They would all live in a villa in Spain, near Barcelona; which they would convert into a hotel run mostly by Jasmine, who would be able to speak five languages by then. This hotel-villa would include six large swimming pools, four night clubs, three cinema/theatre/concert halls; two restaurants, one large Irish pub; and would, in short, be the world’s first official doss house, whatever that may be in Spanish. Grace, for one, had always been extremely annoyed by her teachers in high school telling them that "this wasn’t a doss house", because it was just an expression; doss houses simply did not exist in those days. *cue gasps of horror from the reader/audience*
It seemed that nothing would be able to stand in their way to success. Not family (all close family members had already reserved permanent lodging in this wonderful piece of paradise), not friends (see family), and certainly not men, the lazy buggers. And what other problems could there be?
Finally the day came when they would fulfil their dream. Jasmine and Grace (accompanied by Bob) made their way to Spain and met in Barcelona, where friends of Grace’s dad had generously said they’d lend them their flat for the summer until they found their own place. They climbed six flights of stairs to get to the flat, since the lift was out of order, and collapsed exhausted on the sofa with the air conditioning of full blast, the windows shut against the heat. "Right," said Jas, "how are we gonna do this?"
"Erm," said Grace, who hadn’t actually thought of it up till now. "Well... We just, erm, find this bit of land in the mountains around Barcelona, and we buy it, and build our villa on it."
"Yes, but I need a few more precise answers. For instance, how are we going to find this piece of land? And how are we gonna buy it, since we’re broke? And the same problem applies to building our dream hotel."
"Yes... Erm..." Grace mumbled, wondering where her entire digestive system might have disappeared off to and pondering the paradoxical need to vomit that had taken it’s place. Jasmine sighed impatiently.
"You don’t know, do you? Honestly Grace, you’re supposed to be the older, more sensible experienced one here. Innit Bob? Oh, he's asleep. BOB!"
"C'meh?" mumbled Bob, waking up with a start and wondering what was going on. Grace mumbled something mutinous.
"Luckily for us, I have been thinking about this over the past few years" continued Jasmine, "ever since you sent me that hilarious story about our future where we ended up living happily ever after, and using ridiculous means to get there."
"It wasn’t ridiculous, it had the most comedy value of anything I’d ever written." Grace protested, sitting on Bob's stomach and nearly suffocating him.
"Yes, yes, it was a true work of art" Jasmine acknowledged impatiently, "I know, but I think we should make some money. Now, this is Barcelona, and there are two things that you find a lot of here."
"Heat and sexy men?" Suggested Grace, ignoring the indignant prod in the back from Bob.
"Yes. But there are two things that will help us to make money. And they are...?"
"Yeah, heat and sexy men."
"Grace!!" Bob and Jasmine said at the same time.
"I give up."
"Street players and restaurants. Now since you three don’t speak Spanish yet, we’ll have to go for the street thing first. I’ve already prepared a mime routine." She said, taking "The Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Mime" out of her back pocket and opening it on her knee.
"Yay!" Said Grace, although Bob, who had trouble keeping his mouth shut for very long, didn’t seem as enthusiastic.
That afternoon they practiced their miming technique and by that night they were practically professionals. They went to sleep and the next day they went out into the town centre to join the street players.
"Wow, there’s loads of them!" Gasped Jasmine. "I don’t seem to remember there being this many."
"Them statue ones have an easy job, we should’ve gone for that." Said Grace.
"Grace, you can usually keep perfectly still for an average time of about three seconds." Balthazar pointed out.
"Yeah, and you can usually keep perfectly silent for about five." Grace retorted.
"It's more than Jas can," Bob protested. Grace ignored the injured puppy look for a total of four seconds and then gave in and hugged him. Jas was suddenly overcome with a huge coughing fit.
They eventually found a free space in the middle of the street between a budgie seller and a moving gold statue who kept shooting them all rather perverse glances, especially Bob. Jasmine got sick of this after about five minutes and gave him a large mouthful of cultured Spanish, every word of which even Bob understood. The poor statue looked shocked and blushed under his make-up, and never again was seen in that street.
"Nice one, Jas." Grace grinned.
"You probably shouldn’t have put on the skin-coloured catsuit." Bob mused, nodding towards Jasmine.
"I told you it was too hot for something so plastic." Grace reminded her.
"What about you, with the hawaiian grass skirt and that bikini top made entirely out of paper flowers?" Jasmine protested, pointing at them.
"Bobby picked them out for me," she said "therefore I am in no way responsible for the consequences of wearing them."
"You should’ve dressed like me..." Bob said, adjusting his heavy Louis 14th suit and obviously not feeling in the least uncomfortable in the heat that was nearly killing everyone else.
"Ok, ok, enough." Jasmine said. "We’re dressed fine as we are. At least we stand out." She added, not really noticing that actually they didn’t.
They mimed until lunchtime, and then Bob did a stand-up comedy that only the millions of French tourists must have understood, and that evening they went to a cheap café with the sign "Help Desperately Wanted" in nine different languages, none of which was English, and as Grace pointed out fussily, the French translation was badly spelt.
"How much money have we made so far?" Balthazar asked. Grace, who was good with figures since she’d worked in Mc Donald's and with kids in France (it’s harder than you think not to lose any, you have to count them every five minutes), had already counted the money twice.
"Between fifty and two hundred euros, in coppers." She said, frowning dubiously at what would later turn out to be a golden ring with strange, elfic runes traced on the inside. Bob sighed and began to count the money a third time.
"That’s not bad." Said Jasmine. "Reckon you three need another day in mime, or shall we apply for a job here?"
"I think I’m good enough in Spanish now to get a job here." Said Grace, who’d been revising in her breaks from the amusing little foreign language book that Jasmine had given her all those years ago.
Bob frowned and whispered to Jas that it was actually twenty-two euros and a plane ticket to Cuba four years out of date.
While Grace and Bob applied for a job, which they immediately got despite (or maybe because of) their costumes; Jasmine looked around the cafe. It was shabby and dirty, kind of a poor attempt at Americanism. The only thing that seemed to be keeping it going was the very succesful body piercing and tattooist next door; most of the customers were covered in metal.
A young, sexy Spanish bloke with only seven visible piercings and three tattoos caught her eye. He glanced over and grinned in a sexy Spanish way. She grinned back.
"What are you grinning in that goofy way at?" Asked Grace, who had just returned from behind the counter where she’d been negociating with the manager over pay.
"Huh?" Jasmine mumbled, coming regretfully back to the real world.
"You had that look on your face that you always used to accuse me of having when I saw Orlando Bloom or Tom Welling."
"Orlando is now the husband of your friend Caroline, you should've officially gone off him out of loyalty." Jasmine scolded, trying to change the subject.
"Stop trying to change the subject." Grace said shrewdly.
"There is a sexy Spanish bloke on that table over there." Said Jasmine.
"Does he look dodgy?"
"Erm..." Jasmine mumbled, and then she gasped because he was now sitting next to her. Grace looked surprised. He seemed to have got there without them seeing him.
"Hola." He said.
Jasmine chatted to him in Spanish and discovered that he was, to her great disappointment, gay. She later guessed she should have realised, what with the plastic pink sandals and the sparkly pink flower tattoo on his shoulder. He was also working next door in the piercing shop and had overheard their conversation from all the way across the crowded room and miraculously worked out that they must be looking for a bit of land around Barcelona in the mountains to build the world’s first official doss house. At that point Bob swayed back from the mens’ room looking a bit green, and no less in need to relieve himself than before. Jasmine filled him in as he sat down at his place.
"I will help you." The mysterious stranger told them, after introducing himself as Alberto Rodriguez Gonzales and placing a caring arm over Bob's shoulders. Grace tensed but Jasmine kicked her under the table. "I happen to be the son of a multi-millionnaire..."
Grace and Jasmine’s jaws hit the floor. The colour suddenly returned to Bob's cheeks, he stopped clutching his stomach and turned to look at Alberto with new interest.
"...but she disowned me when I was thirteen because I didn’t want to become a funeral director." Alberto finished, a tear sparkling in his eye. Jasmine sighed dreamily and then winced and scowled as Grace kicked her back under the table.
"You don’t look miserable enough to be a funeral director." Bob said comfortingly, handing him a tissue and a dozen different business cards, all his.
That evening they made an action plan in the cafe. With Jasmine’s logic, Bob's financial genius, Alberto’s streetwise knowledge of Barcelona and Grace’s fascinating imagination, they were bound to succeed.
The next day Grace came into the cafe and started working as a waitress. She had forgotten to take off the Hawaiian skirt and top, having collapsed fully dressed onto her matress the night before, but neither the manager nor the customers seemed to mind. It was a lot better than working in Mc Donald's, she concluded, apart from the smell.
Jasmine had found the catsuit melted into a sticky, plasticky pool on the balcony, having gotten up at ten in a heatwave, and today was wearing an aqua bikini top and a tie-dye wrap-around skirt borrowed from Grace. Bob had chosen a winter woat to go over his Louis 14th suit.
Jasmine went to work persuading the manager to let her redecorate the cafe. He eventually agreed as long as the customers didn’t have to move. Jasmine thought that this was totally unreasonable (Grace didn’t. Most of the customers looked as though they inhaled paint, glue and sissors on a regular basis anyway). She yelled in frustration at the manager, who ran screaming from the cafe and was found atop one of Gaudi’s towers a week later in the lotus position, claiming he’d been enlightened, and made millions giving divine wisdom courses, something which later inspired another of Bob's unneeded get-rich-quick scams, but that's another story.
"That’s him out of the way then." Grace commented, handing out poison-in-a-cup, otherwise known as French coffee, at table 3. Jasmine dusted off her hands and rolled up her sleeves with a Look in her eye that meant she meant business. Bob, seeing this, dived under a table and cowered there, trembling.
"Right, everyone, we’re redecorating here, y’all get a free coffee and then out by half one!" she told the room. "Bob, get out from under there, you don't know what you might catch."
A few half-hearted, disgruntled nods and mistrusting mutters on the subject of the free coffee that Grace was now handing out in silver cups, and which you really needed a silver fork to consume, since the steel ones seemed to dissolve after a couple of seconds. One man in a leather jacket covered in badges (the man, not the jacket) turned his cup upside-down to see if it spilled; when it didn’t, grunted approvingly, swallowed it whole, and had to be taken to hospital for major surgery. Luckily Grace, having lived in France (with her dad) for several years, had thought to hand out warnings with the coffee so people couldn’t sue them.
At about half one, they closed the cafe and Alberto came round to help, followed by Bob, who was taking great care not to let Alberto walk behind him, but wouldn't let him out of his sight either.
"Now, how are we gonna do this?" Asked Jasmine. "I was thinking a nice, posh Trafford Centre-type thing..."
"What??!" Cried Alberto, scandalised. "Noone will come! The people who come here like it because it’s cheap and punky."
"Why don’t we just cover it in posters? Save money on paint." Suggested Grace, yawning.
"Good idea, Gracie." Jasmine agreed. "Though I don't think we can do without paint. We could do it in the theme of a rocky bedroom kinda thing."
"I like it!" Alberto enthused enthusiastically.
"Right, I’ll get out all my old rock posters and you can get the rest of the mosher, goth, punk and metal bands things later, I didn’t bring many. Bob, go and get your video game stuff." Grace told them. "I’ll start cleaning the kitchen up with Bob. Jas, you go and buy the paint, get some dark blue or purple or black. Alberto, you can clear up around here. And give them jobs." She pointed at the two thirteen-year-old boys called Pequeño and Chiquito who had been the other waiters before, and who were staring at them from the corner like they were all mad.
They all got to work in fast mode and by Thurday they could reopen. The walls were black and covered in gothic posters, the menu had been altered slightly, and a few more waiters and waitresses had been employed; they loved the job because it was well-paid and the uniform wasn’t too bad; at least two visible piercings and one tattoo, and if you had hair you had to have it long, and if you didn’t have it, you had to really not have it. The new changes attracted so many new customers that within two months they had half a million saved up.
"Right, now we can buy our land!" Jasmine said cheerfully one morning, counting the half a million in the cash box, while Alberto tried a new coffee that Grace’s dad had invented which was so strong it had to be kept in a platinum safe and be chopped up with a very sharp platinum knife, and you could only drink it if you had a certain platinum tongue piercing developed by Alberto, and also Alberto’s new boyfriend, Antonio, who Bob approved of a lot.
"What was that?" Asked Grace, hitting Alberto between the shoulder blades as he wretched and flames poured out of his mouth.
"We’ve got more than enough to buy our bit of land now and start constructing." Jasmine beamed.
"Really? Ooh, fab." Grace grinned, now pouring ice over Alberto’s head, which seemed to be smoking around the nostril area. "We’ll just have to find the land now."
"Right, let’s get the lads and go for a walk." Said Jasmine. "Alberto, you can take over for the day." She added to Alberto, who seemed to have no more pupils and was now sliding down the wall to the floor with an ecstatic grin on his face, vibrating in time to the radio which was playing the latest KYO song. "C’mon, Gracie, let’s go find some land."
"I don’t feel like walking outside in that heat for hours." Grace grumbled.
"We’ll take the car then." Bob grinned, coming out from the bathroom which he had redesigned himself.
"What car? We don’t have a car. Or a driver’s licence, for that matter." Jasmine reminded him.
"Damn, left mine at home..." Said Bob.
So they went out to the street corner, spent 50€ on a quality fake driver’s licence with Grace’s name on it, and then off they went to the car shop.
"Why does it have your name on it? You know we can’t trust you behind a wheel. And why can't Bob drive it? He's actually got a license." Jasmine complained as they bought a technicolour sports car, ignoring Bob’s protest that he wanted a khaki monster truck.
"Yeah, why can't I...?" Bob started.
"Because I'm the eldest and it's about time I learned." said Grace.
"In a country you barely know, on them steep, rocky mountain paths? And why did she put your name as 'Garce'?"
"I dunno, she wasn’t speaking Spanish, she was speaking Catalan I think." Grace replied.
"She was a he, for a start. And how are we gonna get there with you panicking at the wheel?"
"With my trusty ‘Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Driving’" said Grace, and whipped it out of her shirt pocket.
"That’s not ‘The Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Driving’! That’s ‘The Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Mime’!" Jasmine said, pointing. Grace looked at it.
"Oh yeah. What do you know. I wondered where that’d gone."
"Now what are we gonna do?" Jasmine cried frustratedly. "Bob, was this really a good time to forget your license?"
"Have you got your lap top with you?" Grace asked Bob.
"Oh yeah!" Jasmine said, brightening, as he slid it out from behind his ear. He handed it to Jasmine, who logged onto the internet, searched "instant subliminal driving lessons", and passed it to Grace.
Twenty minutes later they were cruising down the highway with the top of the car open and the air conditioning and radio on full blast.
"Bloody internet." Grace muttered from the passenger seat, not really sounding that concerned because there was a rainbow limosine next to them with a group of dark young men in shorts, and Bob had to concentrate on the road.
"Oh, it’s not the internet," Jasmine replied airily, pretending not to spy on the rainbow limosine, "you just have to know how to follow these courses. They’re really good actually, I did a self-defense one last year, I feel so much safer now. You know, maybe you should do the first aid one, we nearly lost Antonio last week with that new decaff your dad sent. It it hadn’t been for Alberto knowing mouth-to-mouth..."
"...then they’d never have got together." Grace finished. "Do you have a pen?"
"Press one of the buttons on that accessory panel there, you’ll probably find one. Why?"
"The tall green-eyed lad in the limosine wants your number, Jas. Bob, could you try and keep level with them?" She pressed the little button with a pen on it and a little drawer opened with a selection of coloured gel pens and paper.
"Hey, we’re getting into the countryside now." Jasmine commented as Grace scribbled the number. "We should be looking around a bit."
"Wait till we’re more in the mountains," said Grace, grinning as Jasmine's new friend blew her a kiss. "Here it’s all flat."
Five minutes later they were in the mountains, but they needed somewhere level to build on and they couldn’t find anywhere.
"Maybe we should build on the flat countryside we went past earlier." Grace said as they screeched to a halt at the top of the fourteenth mountain.
"We’ll find somewhere, don’t worry." Said Jasmine "Right now we need to stop for lunch."
"Right" said Grace, reaching behind her and taking her (other) little black shoulder bag from the back seat. Then she got out of the car and took out a small stove, a bottle of champers and water for Bob (who was starting to regret being the only one who could drive), three crystal glasses and some food and plates and started making the lunch.
"Ah, this is the LIFE!" Jasmine yawned, lying back on Grace's seat and switching on the wide-screen satellite TV next to the dashboard with her toe. "Where’s the remote to this thing?"
"You press the little button that says ‘remote’" Grace replied, flipping pancakes. "Wanna crack open the bottle, Bob? I’ll spill it." Jasmine took the bottle of champagne and opened it in a very professional way which would’ve made Grace’s dad proud. Bob growled something along the lines of "I-cudda-dunnit" and whined that he wanted some, which the girls ignored.
"Reckon we’ll find our little bit of land today?" Jasmine asked, pouring three glasses and putting them on a little pull-out table from under the dashboard.
"What about that bit there?" Grace said, pointing with the frying pan, which now had a Spanish omlette in it, to Bob's disgust. Jasmine looked and saw on the next mountain a large, flat, sunny ridge with a ‘for sale’ sign stuck right in the middle of it.
"Ooh, perfect. See, I knew we’d find it somehow."
They ate lunch (pancakes, Spanish omlette, champers, and a mix of galaxy chocolate, skittles, malteasers and dime Mc Flurries professionally made by Grace for afters) and then off they went to the next mountain.
"Wow, you can see all of Barcelona from here." Grace gasped.
"There’s a number, look" Jasmine pointed at the bottom of the ‘for sale’ sign.
"You got your mobile?" Grace asked. Jasmine shook her head. "Never mind, there’s probably one in the car."
Sure enough, when they looked in the car there was a phone button and the latest Nokia shot out from under the driver’s seat. Grace took it and dialled the number.
"Hello? We’d like to buy a bit of land on this here mountain." She said. "How much?"
"10€" replied a Spanish bloke from the other end.
"10€???!" Grace shrieked, causing a small avalanche on the next mountain. Bob took the phone. "Er, we mean, yes, certainly we’ll take it. It’s a bit of a stretch though, we wouldn’t pay a peseta more..."
"We use cents now, Bob." Jasmine told him as he hung up and Grace jumped up and down with glee.
"I think we should get someone to check out the land if it's only 10€," Bob said "there must be a catch."
So they went to a professional "land checker person" as Grace called him, and got him to look up the history of the mountain, eventually finding out that it was supposed to be haunted by the ghost of Andy Garcia.
"And why are people scared of this ghost? What does he do?" Jasmine asked sceptically.
"He is said to seduce young women until the one with his name will come and exorcize him."
Everyone turned to look at Grace.
Several weeks of psychic training on Grace's part later, they bought the piece of land on Grace’s credit goldcard and hired the builders and the architects to build their villa, and Grace did a formal exorcision, a talent they hadn't known she possessed (haha, geddit? possessed? ah, never mind). Within a year they’d had it built and now all they had to do was open it. Unfortunately, they’d run out of money.
"Now what are we gonna do?" Grace moaned, as Jasmine stared hopelessly into the empty cashbox.
"I dunno, something unrealistic as usual. Contact Alberto’s mother or something." Bob said, handing Grace a cinnamon and banoffee ice cream and ignoring the jealous look from Mario, Antonio’s straight brother who worked in the lingerie shop opposite. They’d discovered that the limosine guy (Pablo) only gave her his number to find out Bob’s, and he was hoping that after some disappointment Mario would find comfort in the arms of Jasmine and they would live together in blissful Catalan existence in a bungalow near the Miro museum.
Jasmine jumped to her feet excitedly, surprising Bob out of his musings.
"Perfect! We’ll contact his mother!"
"Who’s?" Asked Alberto, coming into the room hand in hand with Antonio, who had turned a bit orange since drinking that morning’s coffee.
"Yours."
"Oh, she’s dead, I got a call from my English brother a month ago." He said unconcernedly.
"You have an English brother??! And you never told us???!!!!" Jasmine squeaked.
"Yes, he’s called Alan and he lives in a town called Bolton. He got the funeral director job."
Jasmine was staring with her mouth open, then something came back to her and she said "Wasn’t it Alan Thingy who played that funeral director in Oliv...?" But she shut up then because Grace was mouthing "NO! NO!" And making "shut up" gestures.
"What do you mean, play? Mother wanted me to really be a funeral director... I think. She sent me to acting classes to learn to be sad for the customers and everything."
"Er... Right... Yeah. Sounds horrible. Anyway... Got anything in the way of inheritance?"
"Yes, all from my father, he was very generous. About two million fourteen thousand and fifty three euros seventy two cents, more or less."
"Fancy lending us some?"
"Of course. I don’t know what I’ll do with it anyway. You can have half a million and I’m giving a million to charity, and then I’ll retire to Minorca for the rest of my days with Antonio." He turned and smiled sweetly at Antonio, who smiled sweetly back. Grace, Jasmine and Bob were doing a victory dance and didn’t notice. Chiquito, Pequeño and Chiquita, the waiters, realised this meant they would inherit the cafe and jumped for joy.
One year later Grace, who was lying on a lilo in the middle of one of the world’s biggest swimming pools (and the biggest one in the doss house), looked up and squinted in the Spanish sunlight. There was a figure standing at the edge of the pool with a smaller, four-legged figure next to it. It took her a moment to recognise who it was.
"Oh my GOD... DAD??!!!!"
Grace’s dad smiled. Sparky the dog wagged his tail and drooled. His master now had blackened teeth from all that poisonous coffee.
"I decided to come and watch the match between France and Ireland on your cinema screen." He said. "I’m very proud of you. But there’s one thing missing in this doss house."
"What is it?" She asked.
"A gym."
"What do we want a gym for?" Asked Jasmine, coming out from the lobby arm in arm with someone called Phil and wearing an engagement ring on her finger. "It’s a doss house. You’re not meant to work."
"Ah, but I don’t see gym as work." He said. Thus started another animated debate on the subject of exercise and whether or not it counted as work. A week later a massive multigym opened in the dosshouse, along with a gift shop called El Coluseum that sold much in the way of windchimes, dreamcatchers, incense, Emily Strange items and Grace’s mum’s mirrors, right next to the enormous video games complex owned by Bob.
All that was left was the wedding. Phil and Jasmine got married in Gaudi’s church, spent their honeymoon in Manchester (they were getting a bit sick of all that sun) and came back. And, apart from a few petty arguments and Jasmine getting horrifically sunburnt one summer about six years after the opening of the doss house, they all lived happily ever after.
The End.
The Barcelona Project
Once upon a time there lived a beautiful, intelligent, witty, thoughtful and talented young girl called Grace, who lived a life of luxury in a large flat in the south of France, with her wonderfully artistic mother, her good-humoured and sporty adoptive father, her two lively and vivacious younger sisters, and the Prince Charming, also known as Bob Lennon.
There was also a slightly younger, but equally beautiful, intelligent, witty, thoughtful and talented girl called Jasmine, who lived in north Manchester in her dream house with her strong and clever mother and her sweet comedian younger brother, and her faithful dog.
Despite living so far away, the two intelligent, witty, thoughtful and talented young girls were the best of friends and were like honourary sisters. They knew exactly what they were going to do with their lives: Jasmine was going to become a linguist, Grace a writer, and Bob was going to take over the world. They would all live in a villa in Spain, near Barcelona; which they would convert into a hotel run mostly by Jasmine, who would be able to speak five languages by then. This hotel-villa would include six large swimming pools, four night clubs, three cinema/theatre/concert halls; two restaurants, one large Irish pub; and would, in short, be the world’s first official doss house, whatever that may be in Spanish. Grace, for one, had always been extremely annoyed by her teachers in high school telling them that "this wasn’t a doss house", because it was just an expression; doss houses simply did not exist in those days. *cue gasps of horror from the reader/audience*
It seemed that nothing would be able to stand in their way to success. Not family (all close family members had already reserved permanent lodging in this wonderful piece of paradise), not friends (see family), and certainly not men, the lazy buggers. And what other problems could there be?
Finally the day came when they would fulfil their dream. Jasmine and Grace (accompanied by Bob) made their way to Spain and met in Barcelona, where friends of Grace’s dad had generously said they’d lend them their flat for the summer until they found their own place. They climbed six flights of stairs to get to the flat, since the lift was out of order, and collapsed exhausted on the sofa with the air conditioning of full blast, the windows shut against the heat. "Right," said Jas, "how are we gonna do this?"
"Erm," said Grace, who hadn’t actually thought of it up till now. "Well... We just, erm, find this bit of land in the mountains around Barcelona, and we buy it, and build our villa on it."
"Yes, but I need a few more precise answers. For instance, how are we going to find this piece of land? And how are we gonna buy it, since we’re broke? And the same problem applies to building our dream hotel."
"Yes... Erm..." Grace mumbled, wondering where her entire digestive system might have disappeared off to and pondering the paradoxical need to vomit that had taken it’s place. Jasmine sighed impatiently.
"You don’t know, do you? Honestly Grace, you’re supposed to be the older, more sensible experienced one here. Innit Bob? Oh, he's asleep. BOB!"
"C'meh?" mumbled Bob, waking up with a start and wondering what was going on. Grace mumbled something mutinous.
"Luckily for us, I have been thinking about this over the past few years" continued Jasmine, "ever since you sent me that hilarious story about our future where we ended up living happily ever after, and using ridiculous means to get there."
"It wasn’t ridiculous, it had the most comedy value of anything I’d ever written." Grace protested, sitting on Bob's stomach and nearly suffocating him.
"Yes, yes, it was a true work of art" Jasmine acknowledged impatiently, "I know, but I think we should make some money. Now, this is Barcelona, and there are two things that you find a lot of here."
"Heat and sexy men?" Suggested Grace, ignoring the indignant prod in the back from Bob.
"Yes. But there are two things that will help us to make money. And they are...?"
"Yeah, heat and sexy men."
"Grace!!" Bob and Jasmine said at the same time.
"I give up."
"Street players and restaurants. Now since you three don’t speak Spanish yet, we’ll have to go for the street thing first. I’ve already prepared a mime routine." She said, taking "The Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Mime" out of her back pocket and opening it on her knee.
"Yay!" Said Grace, although Bob, who had trouble keeping his mouth shut for very long, didn’t seem as enthusiastic.
That afternoon they practiced their miming technique and by that night they were practically professionals. They went to sleep and the next day they went out into the town centre to join the street players.
"Wow, there’s loads of them!" Gasped Jasmine. "I don’t seem to remember there being this many."
"Them statue ones have an easy job, we should’ve gone for that." Said Grace.
"Grace, you can usually keep perfectly still for an average time of about three seconds." Balthazar pointed out.
"Yeah, and you can usually keep perfectly silent for about five." Grace retorted.
"It's more than Jas can," Bob protested. Grace ignored the injured puppy look for a total of four seconds and then gave in and hugged him. Jas was suddenly overcome with a huge coughing fit.
They eventually found a free space in the middle of the street between a budgie seller and a moving gold statue who kept shooting them all rather perverse glances, especially Bob. Jasmine got sick of this after about five minutes and gave him a large mouthful of cultured Spanish, every word of which even Bob understood. The poor statue looked shocked and blushed under his make-up, and never again was seen in that street.
"Nice one, Jas." Grace grinned.
"You probably shouldn’t have put on the skin-coloured catsuit." Bob mused, nodding towards Jasmine.
"I told you it was too hot for something so plastic." Grace reminded her.
"What about you, with the hawaiian grass skirt and that bikini top made entirely out of paper flowers?" Jasmine protested, pointing at them.
"Bobby picked them out for me," she said "therefore I am in no way responsible for the consequences of wearing them."
"You should’ve dressed like me..." Bob said, adjusting his heavy Louis 14th suit and obviously not feeling in the least uncomfortable in the heat that was nearly killing everyone else.
"Ok, ok, enough." Jasmine said. "We’re dressed fine as we are. At least we stand out." She added, not really noticing that actually they didn’t.
They mimed until lunchtime, and then Bob did a stand-up comedy that only the millions of French tourists must have understood, and that evening they went to a cheap café with the sign "Help Desperately Wanted" in nine different languages, none of which was English, and as Grace pointed out fussily, the French translation was badly spelt.
"How much money have we made so far?" Balthazar asked. Grace, who was good with figures since she’d worked in Mc Donald's and with kids in France (it’s harder than you think not to lose any, you have to count them every five minutes), had already counted the money twice.
"Between fifty and two hundred euros, in coppers." She said, frowning dubiously at what would later turn out to be a golden ring with strange, elfic runes traced on the inside. Bob sighed and began to count the money a third time.
"That’s not bad." Said Jasmine. "Reckon you three need another day in mime, or shall we apply for a job here?"
"I think I’m good enough in Spanish now to get a job here." Said Grace, who’d been revising in her breaks from the amusing little foreign language book that Jasmine had given her all those years ago.
Bob frowned and whispered to Jas that it was actually twenty-two euros and a plane ticket to Cuba four years out of date.
While Grace and Bob applied for a job, which they immediately got despite (or maybe because of) their costumes; Jasmine looked around the cafe. It was shabby and dirty, kind of a poor attempt at Americanism. The only thing that seemed to be keeping it going was the very succesful body piercing and tattooist next door; most of the customers were covered in metal.
A young, sexy Spanish bloke with only seven visible piercings and three tattoos caught her eye. He glanced over and grinned in a sexy Spanish way. She grinned back.
"What are you grinning in that goofy way at?" Asked Grace, who had just returned from behind the counter where she’d been negociating with the manager over pay.
"Huh?" Jasmine mumbled, coming regretfully back to the real world.
"You had that look on your face that you always used to accuse me of having when I saw Orlando Bloom or Tom Welling."
"Orlando is now the husband of your friend Caroline, you should've officially gone off him out of loyalty." Jasmine scolded, trying to change the subject.
"Stop trying to change the subject." Grace said shrewdly.
"There is a sexy Spanish bloke on that table over there." Said Jasmine.
"Does he look dodgy?"
"Erm..." Jasmine mumbled, and then she gasped because he was now sitting next to her. Grace looked surprised. He seemed to have got there without them seeing him.
"Hola." He said.
Jasmine chatted to him in Spanish and discovered that he was, to her great disappointment, gay. She later guessed she should have realised, what with the plastic pink sandals and the sparkly pink flower tattoo on his shoulder. He was also working next door in the piercing shop and had overheard their conversation from all the way across the crowded room and miraculously worked out that they must be looking for a bit of land around Barcelona in the mountains to build the world’s first official doss house. At that point Bob swayed back from the mens’ room looking a bit green, and no less in need to relieve himself than before. Jasmine filled him in as he sat down at his place.
"I will help you." The mysterious stranger told them, after introducing himself as Alberto Rodriguez Gonzales and placing a caring arm over Bob's shoulders. Grace tensed but Jasmine kicked her under the table. "I happen to be the son of a multi-millionnaire..."
Grace and Jasmine’s jaws hit the floor. The colour suddenly returned to Bob's cheeks, he stopped clutching his stomach and turned to look at Alberto with new interest.
"...but she disowned me when I was thirteen because I didn’t want to become a funeral director." Alberto finished, a tear sparkling in his eye. Jasmine sighed dreamily and then winced and scowled as Grace kicked her back under the table.
"You don’t look miserable enough to be a funeral director." Bob said comfortingly, handing him a tissue and a dozen different business cards, all his.
That evening they made an action plan in the cafe. With Jasmine’s logic, Bob's financial genius, Alberto’s streetwise knowledge of Barcelona and Grace’s fascinating imagination, they were bound to succeed.
The next day Grace came into the cafe and started working as a waitress. She had forgotten to take off the Hawaiian skirt and top, having collapsed fully dressed onto her matress the night before, but neither the manager nor the customers seemed to mind. It was a lot better than working in Mc Donald's, she concluded, apart from the smell.
Jasmine had found the catsuit melted into a sticky, plasticky pool on the balcony, having gotten up at ten in a heatwave, and today was wearing an aqua bikini top and a tie-dye wrap-around skirt borrowed from Grace. Bob had chosen a winter woat to go over his Louis 14th suit.
Jasmine went to work persuading the manager to let her redecorate the cafe. He eventually agreed as long as the customers didn’t have to move. Jasmine thought that this was totally unreasonable (Grace didn’t. Most of the customers looked as though they inhaled paint, glue and sissors on a regular basis anyway). She yelled in frustration at the manager, who ran screaming from the cafe and was found atop one of Gaudi’s towers a week later in the lotus position, claiming he’d been enlightened, and made millions giving divine wisdom courses, something which later inspired another of Bob's unneeded get-rich-quick scams, but that's another story.
"That’s him out of the way then." Grace commented, handing out poison-in-a-cup, otherwise known as French coffee, at table 3. Jasmine dusted off her hands and rolled up her sleeves with a Look in her eye that meant she meant business. Bob, seeing this, dived under a table and cowered there, trembling.
"Right, everyone, we’re redecorating here, y’all get a free coffee and then out by half one!" she told the room. "Bob, get out from under there, you don't know what you might catch."
A few half-hearted, disgruntled nods and mistrusting mutters on the subject of the free coffee that Grace was now handing out in silver cups, and which you really needed a silver fork to consume, since the steel ones seemed to dissolve after a couple of seconds. One man in a leather jacket covered in badges (the man, not the jacket) turned his cup upside-down to see if it spilled; when it didn’t, grunted approvingly, swallowed it whole, and had to be taken to hospital for major surgery. Luckily Grace, having lived in France (with her dad) for several years, had thought to hand out warnings with the coffee so people couldn’t sue them.
At about half one, they closed the cafe and Alberto came round to help, followed by Bob, who was taking great care not to let Alberto walk behind him, but wouldn't let him out of his sight either.
"Now, how are we gonna do this?" Asked Jasmine. "I was thinking a nice, posh Trafford Centre-type thing..."
"What??!" Cried Alberto, scandalised. "Noone will come! The people who come here like it because it’s cheap and punky."
"Why don’t we just cover it in posters? Save money on paint." Suggested Grace, yawning.
"Good idea, Gracie." Jasmine agreed. "Though I don't think we can do without paint. We could do it in the theme of a rocky bedroom kinda thing."
"I like it!" Alberto enthused enthusiastically.
"Right, I’ll get out all my old rock posters and you can get the rest of the mosher, goth, punk and metal bands things later, I didn’t bring many. Bob, go and get your video game stuff." Grace told them. "I’ll start cleaning the kitchen up with Bob. Jas, you go and buy the paint, get some dark blue or purple or black. Alberto, you can clear up around here. And give them jobs." She pointed at the two thirteen-year-old boys called Pequeño and Chiquito who had been the other waiters before, and who were staring at them from the corner like they were all mad.
They all got to work in fast mode and by Thurday they could reopen. The walls were black and covered in gothic posters, the menu had been altered slightly, and a few more waiters and waitresses had been employed; they loved the job because it was well-paid and the uniform wasn’t too bad; at least two visible piercings and one tattoo, and if you had hair you had to have it long, and if you didn’t have it, you had to really not have it. The new changes attracted so many new customers that within two months they had half a million saved up.
"Right, now we can buy our land!" Jasmine said cheerfully one morning, counting the half a million in the cash box, while Alberto tried a new coffee that Grace’s dad had invented which was so strong it had to be kept in a platinum safe and be chopped up with a very sharp platinum knife, and you could only drink it if you had a certain platinum tongue piercing developed by Alberto, and also Alberto’s new boyfriend, Antonio, who Bob approved of a lot.
"What was that?" Asked Grace, hitting Alberto between the shoulder blades as he wretched and flames poured out of his mouth.
"We’ve got more than enough to buy our bit of land now and start constructing." Jasmine beamed.
"Really? Ooh, fab." Grace grinned, now pouring ice over Alberto’s head, which seemed to be smoking around the nostril area. "We’ll just have to find the land now."
"Right, let’s get the lads and go for a walk." Said Jasmine. "Alberto, you can take over for the day." She added to Alberto, who seemed to have no more pupils and was now sliding down the wall to the floor with an ecstatic grin on his face, vibrating in time to the radio which was playing the latest KYO song. "C’mon, Gracie, let’s go find some land."
"I don’t feel like walking outside in that heat for hours." Grace grumbled.
"We’ll take the car then." Bob grinned, coming out from the bathroom which he had redesigned himself.
"What car? We don’t have a car. Or a driver’s licence, for that matter." Jasmine reminded him.
"Damn, left mine at home..." Said Bob.
So they went out to the street corner, spent 50€ on a quality fake driver’s licence with Grace’s name on it, and then off they went to the car shop.
"Why does it have your name on it? You know we can’t trust you behind a wheel. And why can't Bob drive it? He's actually got a license." Jasmine complained as they bought a technicolour sports car, ignoring Bob’s protest that he wanted a khaki monster truck.
"Yeah, why can't I...?" Bob started.
"Because I'm the eldest and it's about time I learned." said Grace.
"In a country you barely know, on them steep, rocky mountain paths? And why did she put your name as 'Garce'?"
"I dunno, she wasn’t speaking Spanish, she was speaking Catalan I think." Grace replied.
"She was a he, for a start. And how are we gonna get there with you panicking at the wheel?"
"With my trusty ‘Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Driving’" said Grace, and whipped it out of her shirt pocket.
"That’s not ‘The Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Driving’! That’s ‘The Imbecile’s Jumbo Guide To Mime’!" Jasmine said, pointing. Grace looked at it.
"Oh yeah. What do you know. I wondered where that’d gone."
"Now what are we gonna do?" Jasmine cried frustratedly. "Bob, was this really a good time to forget your license?"
"Have you got your lap top with you?" Grace asked Bob.
"Oh yeah!" Jasmine said, brightening, as he slid it out from behind his ear. He handed it to Jasmine, who logged onto the internet, searched "instant subliminal driving lessons", and passed it to Grace.
Twenty minutes later they were cruising down the highway with the top of the car open and the air conditioning and radio on full blast.
"Bloody internet." Grace muttered from the passenger seat, not really sounding that concerned because there was a rainbow limosine next to them with a group of dark young men in shorts, and Bob had to concentrate on the road.
"Oh, it’s not the internet," Jasmine replied airily, pretending not to spy on the rainbow limosine, "you just have to know how to follow these courses. They’re really good actually, I did a self-defense one last year, I feel so much safer now. You know, maybe you should do the first aid one, we nearly lost Antonio last week with that new decaff your dad sent. It it hadn’t been for Alberto knowing mouth-to-mouth..."
"...then they’d never have got together." Grace finished. "Do you have a pen?"
"Press one of the buttons on that accessory panel there, you’ll probably find one. Why?"
"The tall green-eyed lad in the limosine wants your number, Jas. Bob, could you try and keep level with them?" She pressed the little button with a pen on it and a little drawer opened with a selection of coloured gel pens and paper.
"Hey, we’re getting into the countryside now." Jasmine commented as Grace scribbled the number. "We should be looking around a bit."
"Wait till we’re more in the mountains," said Grace, grinning as Jasmine's new friend blew her a kiss. "Here it’s all flat."
Five minutes later they were in the mountains, but they needed somewhere level to build on and they couldn’t find anywhere.
"Maybe we should build on the flat countryside we went past earlier." Grace said as they screeched to a halt at the top of the fourteenth mountain.
"We’ll find somewhere, don’t worry." Said Jasmine "Right now we need to stop for lunch."
"Right" said Grace, reaching behind her and taking her (other) little black shoulder bag from the back seat. Then she got out of the car and took out a small stove, a bottle of champers and water for Bob (who was starting to regret being the only one who could drive), three crystal glasses and some food and plates and started making the lunch.
"Ah, this is the LIFE!" Jasmine yawned, lying back on Grace's seat and switching on the wide-screen satellite TV next to the dashboard with her toe. "Where’s the remote to this thing?"
"You press the little button that says ‘remote’" Grace replied, flipping pancakes. "Wanna crack open the bottle, Bob? I’ll spill it." Jasmine took the bottle of champagne and opened it in a very professional way which would’ve made Grace’s dad proud. Bob growled something along the lines of "I-cudda-dunnit" and whined that he wanted some, which the girls ignored.
"Reckon we’ll find our little bit of land today?" Jasmine asked, pouring three glasses and putting them on a little pull-out table from under the dashboard.
"What about that bit there?" Grace said, pointing with the frying pan, which now had a Spanish omlette in it, to Bob's disgust. Jasmine looked and saw on the next mountain a large, flat, sunny ridge with a ‘for sale’ sign stuck right in the middle of it.
"Ooh, perfect. See, I knew we’d find it somehow."
They ate lunch (pancakes, Spanish omlette, champers, and a mix of galaxy chocolate, skittles, malteasers and dime Mc Flurries professionally made by Grace for afters) and then off they went to the next mountain.
"Wow, you can see all of Barcelona from here." Grace gasped.
"There’s a number, look" Jasmine pointed at the bottom of the ‘for sale’ sign.
"You got your mobile?" Grace asked. Jasmine shook her head. "Never mind, there’s probably one in the car."
Sure enough, when they looked in the car there was a phone button and the latest Nokia shot out from under the driver’s seat. Grace took it and dialled the number.
"Hello? We’d like to buy a bit of land on this here mountain." She said. "How much?"
"10€" replied a Spanish bloke from the other end.
"10€???!" Grace shrieked, causing a small avalanche on the next mountain. Bob took the phone. "Er, we mean, yes, certainly we’ll take it. It’s a bit of a stretch though, we wouldn’t pay a peseta more..."
"We use cents now, Bob." Jasmine told him as he hung up and Grace jumped up and down with glee.
"I think we should get someone to check out the land if it's only 10€," Bob said "there must be a catch."
So they went to a professional "land checker person" as Grace called him, and got him to look up the history of the mountain, eventually finding out that it was supposed to be haunted by the ghost of Andy Garcia.
"And why are people scared of this ghost? What does he do?" Jasmine asked sceptically.
"He is said to seduce young women until the one with his name will come and exorcize him."
Everyone turned to look at Grace.
Several weeks of psychic training on Grace's part later, they bought the piece of land on Grace’s credit goldcard and hired the builders and the architects to build their villa, and Grace did a formal exorcision, a talent they hadn't known she possessed (haha, geddit? possessed? ah, never mind). Within a year they’d had it built and now all they had to do was open it. Unfortunately, they’d run out of money.
"Now what are we gonna do?" Grace moaned, as Jasmine stared hopelessly into the empty cashbox.
"I dunno, something unrealistic as usual. Contact Alberto’s mother or something." Bob said, handing Grace a cinnamon and banoffee ice cream and ignoring the jealous look from Mario, Antonio’s straight brother who worked in the lingerie shop opposite. They’d discovered that the limosine guy (Pablo) only gave her his number to find out Bob’s, and he was hoping that after some disappointment Mario would find comfort in the arms of Jasmine and they would live together in blissful Catalan existence in a bungalow near the Miro museum.
Jasmine jumped to her feet excitedly, surprising Bob out of his musings.
"Perfect! We’ll contact his mother!"
"Who’s?" Asked Alberto, coming into the room hand in hand with Antonio, who had turned a bit orange since drinking that morning’s coffee.
"Yours."
"Oh, she’s dead, I got a call from my English brother a month ago." He said unconcernedly.
"You have an English brother??! And you never told us???!!!!" Jasmine squeaked.
"Yes, he’s called Alan and he lives in a town called Bolton. He got the funeral director job."
Jasmine was staring with her mouth open, then something came back to her and she said "Wasn’t it Alan Thingy who played that funeral director in Oliv...?" But she shut up then because Grace was mouthing "NO! NO!" And making "shut up" gestures.
"What do you mean, play? Mother wanted me to really be a funeral director... I think. She sent me to acting classes to learn to be sad for the customers and everything."
"Er... Right... Yeah. Sounds horrible. Anyway... Got anything in the way of inheritance?"
"Yes, all from my father, he was very generous. About two million fourteen thousand and fifty three euros seventy two cents, more or less."
"Fancy lending us some?"
"Of course. I don’t know what I’ll do with it anyway. You can have half a million and I’m giving a million to charity, and then I’ll retire to Minorca for the rest of my days with Antonio." He turned and smiled sweetly at Antonio, who smiled sweetly back. Grace, Jasmine and Bob were doing a victory dance and didn’t notice. Chiquito, Pequeño and Chiquita, the waiters, realised this meant they would inherit the cafe and jumped for joy.
One year later Grace, who was lying on a lilo in the middle of one of the world’s biggest swimming pools (and the biggest one in the doss house), looked up and squinted in the Spanish sunlight. There was a figure standing at the edge of the pool with a smaller, four-legged figure next to it. It took her a moment to recognise who it was.
"Oh my GOD... DAD??!!!!"
Grace’s dad smiled. Sparky the dog wagged his tail and drooled. His master now had blackened teeth from all that poisonous coffee.
"I decided to come and watch the match between France and Ireland on your cinema screen." He said. "I’m very proud of you. But there’s one thing missing in this doss house."
"What is it?" She asked.
"A gym."
"What do we want a gym for?" Asked Jasmine, coming out from the lobby arm in arm with someone called Phil and wearing an engagement ring on her finger. "It’s a doss house. You’re not meant to work."
"Ah, but I don’t see gym as work." He said. Thus started another animated debate on the subject of exercise and whether or not it counted as work. A week later a massive multigym opened in the dosshouse, along with a gift shop called El Coluseum that sold much in the way of windchimes, dreamcatchers, incense, Emily Strange items and Grace’s mum’s mirrors, right next to the enormous video games complex owned by Bob.
All that was left was the wedding. Phil and Jasmine got married in Gaudi’s church, spent their honeymoon in Manchester (they were getting a bit sick of all that sun) and came back. And, apart from a few petty arguments and Jasmine getting horrifically sunburnt one summer about six years after the opening of the doss house, they all lived happily ever after.
The End.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Rain, rain, go away...
I wasn't planning on writing again so soon, but of all things the weather has forced me into it. It would seem we are currently in the midst of the strongest storm to hit France/Spain in a decade and it would seem that Pau is pretty much situated in the epicentre in the Pyrénées-Atlantiques...oh joy! (I know being from Manchester means that I am used to cold weather and rain...but really, I mean, there is no need to take it to the extreme!) Sod's law, I have just found out that it is sunny, dry and mild at home today too...this is probably payback for when I gloated about our picnic in the park last Saturday when it was sunny here and chucking it down at home...you always know these things will come back to haunt you at some point, haha.
Just been on the BBC Website and the storm is the top story, so told Mum to keep an eye out for if it's on the news at home, wouldn't surprise me, I mean seems all British people do is talk about the weather (this blog being a prime example!) and usually complain about it being either too cold or too hot...seems there is just no pleasing us whatsoever...however if I had to choose, I would much rather be boiling hot than freezing cold any day.
Back to today, I really hope we don't have a powercut as apparently many homes in the region are without power...having said that we had a powercut for all of twenty minutes last Sunday for no reason whatsoever, so if we did have one at least it would kind of have a purpose not that I would condone it.
Decided to brave the elements earlier on before realising the severity of the situation (ignorance really is bliss). Given that I assumed I had just missed a bus by a few minutes I walked into the town centre, which once I arrived I realised was pretty pointless given that a lot of shops either hadn't opened at all or had closed early due to the weather, so was there for about an hour as I know buses only come around once an hour on a Saturday. Sat down and got my i-pod out in order to make my 15 minute wait that bit more bearable and it was only when a woman came and told me that she had just rang up to ask about buses that I found out there were none running...grrr, no signs up or anything, would have been helpful! Had to make the return journey on foot then too, although I was quite alert and decisive about where I walked given that there were some broken bricks along the side of the road/on the pavements which I assumed had been blown off the roof in the wind...hoped and prayed I'd survive! Think I am going to stay in now, don't really fancy heading back out, especially as it looks as though the rain is pelting down harder than it was before, ah well, night in with DVDs it is! :)
Just been on the BBC Website and the storm is the top story, so told Mum to keep an eye out for if it's on the news at home, wouldn't surprise me, I mean seems all British people do is talk about the weather (this blog being a prime example!) and usually complain about it being either too cold or too hot...seems there is just no pleasing us whatsoever...however if I had to choose, I would much rather be boiling hot than freezing cold any day.
Back to today, I really hope we don't have a powercut as apparently many homes in the region are without power...having said that we had a powercut for all of twenty minutes last Sunday for no reason whatsoever, so if we did have one at least it would kind of have a purpose not that I would condone it.
Decided to brave the elements earlier on before realising the severity of the situation (ignorance really is bliss). Given that I assumed I had just missed a bus by a few minutes I walked into the town centre, which once I arrived I realised was pretty pointless given that a lot of shops either hadn't opened at all or had closed early due to the weather, so was there for about an hour as I know buses only come around once an hour on a Saturday. Sat down and got my i-pod out in order to make my 15 minute wait that bit more bearable and it was only when a woman came and told me that she had just rang up to ask about buses that I found out there were none running...grrr, no signs up or anything, would have been helpful! Had to make the return journey on foot then too, although I was quite alert and decisive about where I walked given that there were some broken bricks along the side of the road/on the pavements which I assumed had been blown off the roof in the wind...hoped and prayed I'd survive! Think I am going to stay in now, don't really fancy heading back out, especially as it looks as though the rain is pelting down harder than it was before, ah well, night in with DVDs it is! :)
Friday, January 23, 2009
Back to January...work, birthday plans and dinner dates!
I realise that in writing about January after having previously spoken about September I am missing out about 3 months, but the diary which I started and swore to myself I'd keep sort of didn't happen...there is something about working and then coming home to write 2 sides of A4 (or to put it another way, an essay) about your day that really isn't appealing, although I now see that this may well be a better way and write more less often as I do enjoy writing even though my motivation is somewhat lost at times. I do need to write more though, so call it a rather late New Year's Resolution which I might actually have a chance of keeping for once! Anyways, enough waffle...
Been in France 4 months now and am really enjoying myself. I am enjoying work and haven't been put off teaching which is always a good sign (I knew before I came that my experience here would either make or break teaching as a possible career route). In comparison to the teaching experience I have had in England, albeit with Primary School and not 17/18 year olds, it is in some cases easier and some more difficult, but I always like a challenge! Got a Languages Week at the Secondary School I work at next week which should be interesting, have to prepare a bit of a presentation about life at home and my region (Lancashire), but something that I am happy to be a part of. The teachers I work with there took me out for lunch today too to a restaurant in Pau (Ciel et Chocolat), was really nice to be able to get away from the hustle and bustle of school life....although not completely given that we were talking shop for most of the time we were there! It was my first time eating at that restaurant and only my second time eating out in a restaurant since arriving, though I really enjoyed my meal. I ordered duck (even though I had only eaten it once before) and it was delicious. I do like ducks, they are probably my favourite bird (hence why I rarely eat it) so I did my best not to envisage my little feathered friends as I was eating. Had a small glass of wine with my meal (as is complusory in France! :P), white as always. I can drink red, but my preference is definitely white or rosé, I am completely the opposite to my Mum in that respect. I think I will definitely be going there again!
Can't wait to travel again in a few weeks! Off to Grenoble to see my best mate and her boyfriend in 3 weeks for a week and while I am there I will celebrate my 21st! Céallai has promised me celebrations although at this point I feel it necessary to say that I have no idea what she is planning...one thing is for sure though, watch out France! When Céa and I are together it literally is Double Trouble! You wouldn't think there is 2 years between us! Been confused as being sisters numerous times before which is quite amusing! Not seen each other in 2 and a half years, so it's going to be awesome...definitely a birthday to remember, there is no doubt whatsoever about that! No doubt you'll hear all about it at a later date! ;)
Voila, think that's my essay for the day finished
Bon weekend a tous,
Rach
Been in France 4 months now and am really enjoying myself. I am enjoying work and haven't been put off teaching which is always a good sign (I knew before I came that my experience here would either make or break teaching as a possible career route). In comparison to the teaching experience I have had in England, albeit with Primary School and not 17/18 year olds, it is in some cases easier and some more difficult, but I always like a challenge! Got a Languages Week at the Secondary School I work at next week which should be interesting, have to prepare a bit of a presentation about life at home and my region (Lancashire), but something that I am happy to be a part of. The teachers I work with there took me out for lunch today too to a restaurant in Pau (Ciel et Chocolat), was really nice to be able to get away from the hustle and bustle of school life....although not completely given that we were talking shop for most of the time we were there! It was my first time eating at that restaurant and only my second time eating out in a restaurant since arriving, though I really enjoyed my meal. I ordered duck (even though I had only eaten it once before) and it was delicious. I do like ducks, they are probably my favourite bird (hence why I rarely eat it) so I did my best not to envisage my little feathered friends as I was eating. Had a small glass of wine with my meal (as is complusory in France! :P), white as always. I can drink red, but my preference is definitely white or rosé, I am completely the opposite to my Mum in that respect. I think I will definitely be going there again!
Can't wait to travel again in a few weeks! Off to Grenoble to see my best mate and her boyfriend in 3 weeks for a week and while I am there I will celebrate my 21st! Céallai has promised me celebrations although at this point I feel it necessary to say that I have no idea what she is planning...one thing is for sure though, watch out France! When Céa and I are together it literally is Double Trouble! You wouldn't think there is 2 years between us! Been confused as being sisters numerous times before which is quite amusing! Not seen each other in 2 and a half years, so it's going to be awesome...definitely a birthday to remember, there is no doubt whatsoever about that! No doubt you'll hear all about it at a later date! ;)
Voila, think that's my essay for the day finished
Bon weekend a tous,
Rach
My first few days in France-...finding my bearings and getting rather confused!
Sunday 21st September 2008
Got up at 6.30 (crack of dawn) to go to the airport, still worrying about what was going to happen with regards to my luggage given we still weren’t sure what the score was with regards to my allowance. Given the amount of things I had already taken out and left at home, I was trying to think desperately of things I could take out and leave behind if necessary, but luckily I didn’t have to and had to (well Mum did at first and I am going halves) pay £102 for 17kg of excess instead! Rip-off merchants at bmi baby, now I realise how they actually manage to make a profit after offering such cheap flights! Mum almost set me off crying as I left to go through security, but managed to hold it together which is more than can be said for her! Maybe, I shouldn’t keep to-ing and fro-ing from home…?
Flight was on time! My worry after that was my stitches though as I was terrified of them bursting on take-off and landing due to the change in cabin pressure, but luckily everything was ok
Arrived at Bordeaux and waited literally about 2 mins about for my luggage, both cases came through within a second or two of each other…I’ll give Bordeaux airport its due, it is bloody efficient when it comes to getting the luggage off the plane, it was the same when we went for the exchange only that time the luggage was already on the carousel as we were entering the baggage reclaim, so we found ourselves sprinting across the room, haha!
Anyways, back to this time…somehow had to get myself from the airport to Bordeaux St.Jean station and at first I couldn’t believe my luck when I found out that there was a free navette/shuttle bus that went there via the city centre…my joy and happiness was somewhat dashed though when I realised that the time of the next departure meant that I would miss the 1.15 train which I had to get as there wasn’t another for 3 hours and I wasn’t waiting around! Ended up paying 55€ for a taxi instead and then after rushing around trying to find something/someone in the station that wasn’t ‘card only’ I was another 35€ down (Hadn’t even left Bordeaux at this point and was nearly 100€ down already). Got to platform after struggling with my cases down and subsequently up the stairs to the platform just to find out that my train was 20 mins late…which changed to 30 about 5 mins later, so I had been running around like a headless chicken for nothing. Sod’s law.
God, the TGV was confusing, almost got on the wrong part at one point thanks to a guy giving me duff info! Merci beaucoup, not I think! Luckily when I got to the right part there was a Frenchman who put my cases on to the train for me as he could see I was struggling, which I was thankful for! Was only me and 2 young French guys in the carriage where I was and at one point during the journey one of them stood up, looked at me and tapped at his wrist as if to drop a not very subtle hint. I had my i-pod in, so fair enough, I wouldn’t have heard if he’d spoken to me, but even so…the French way I suppose…
A few hours later I arrived in Pau and as Camille had said she was going to come and meet me, so my initial thought was to try and find her, but given that I hadn’t eaten or drank since I was on the plane so bought a drink of cool, refreshing 7up from the shop in the station as I couldn’t see any possible Camilles anywhere. Luckily, just as I was walking back into the main court of the station building, I saw someone who resembled her, and then it was one of those ‘is it or isn’t it?’ moments with me looking at her and her looking at me, luckily it was and then we laughed about the uncertainty of it all. Got on the bus to where we live and she was pointing things out to me as we were going, my brain felt a bit pickled with all the info, but looking back I think I absorbed the majority!.
Got to our house and Mr Hourcaillaou the landlord was there to meet us. Initially I was left to start unpacking and ‘m’installer’ and then I got the official guided tour of the premises and then there was the whole issue of the legalities, contract signing etc. Luckily I didn’t have to do it all there and then, otherwise it would have taken me a while! He said he was coming by on Tuesday so could I leave it out for him (which meant I could ask Camille for help on Monday, it’s great how things work out to my advantage like that! :P), he then wished us a ‘bonne soirée’ and left us to it.
Something then dawned on me as I went back into my room to continue sorting out my things, namely, 1) I didn’t have any pillows/duvet or blanket and 2) there were no curtains in my room. Looked like I’d have to improvise, and improvise I did! Using a folded jumper as a pillow and hung clothes over my window even though half of it wasn’t covered, but half was better than nothing! Tried to have a nap given that I was feeling knackered so lay on my bed for an hour or so and when I couldn’t actually drop off I gave in and carried on with everything. Cea then rang to give me the obligatory ‘Welcome to France, now you have no excuse not to come and visit’ phone call, although as she could tell I was tired it wasn’t the usual hour’s duration, but a somewhat more acceptable 15 minutes.
As I had to go to meet the teachers at Louis Barthou the day after I went to speak to Camille on how would be the best way to go about getting there, so she pointed me in the direction of the STAP website and explained where the nearest stops were which made me feel a lot better! Thoughts then turned to food, as I hadn’t got any with me and the other 2 bought their own, me and Camille agreed on getting a take-away pizza and going halves. We then ventured out with her again pointing things out to me (most of which I retained...again, surprisingly!) Retired back to my room and got ready for bed, started reading my book, ‘Girl with a One Track Mind’ and got about 70 pages in! Was one of those books I didn’t want to put down, but alas I had to as I had a meeting at 11 so had to be up early and called it a night.
Monday 22nd September 2008
Alarm went off on cue at quarter to 10, got all smartly dressed in my jacket, heels etc, wanted to give them a decent first impression (even though my hair wasn’t fab, given that it needed washing and I hadn’t any shampoo at that point) but I looked acceptable/professional shall we say. My nightmare began the minute I left the house…to say that I was unsure about getting the bus was a bit of an understatement. (even after being pointed in the right direction by Camille- seems Mum is right when she says I have no sense of direction!) I got completely confused and saw about 2 buses go past before I realised that I may have been waiting on the wrong side of the road, as it was the opposite side to the way in which we came on my arrival yesterday, but just to confirm my suspicions I asked a ‘mademoiselle’ who was passing who indeed said that the bus went from the opposite side. Realising that because of all this I was going to be late for my first meeting with the teachers/other English assistant, I tried to ring my responsable, but to no avail. I felt like I wanted the world to swallow me up, but even though I arrived 10 mins late and apologised profusely, my responsable was ok and very understanding about it, imagine my relief! She then asked me how I was settling in, where I was living etc and she offered to give me a pillow and blanket, so at least that’s a few euros (well, quite a few!) saved. As some of the staff and Blake, the other assistant had gone off for a coffee to save them waiting in the staff room until I arrived, she proceeded to introduce me to what seemed like everybody and then we went back to the staff room as the others arrived back. We then went off to the college cantine for lunch, which ended up being my first major culture shock…I know that a college cantine and culture barely go together, but when I saw I literally had to do a double-take. The teachers were passing round a bottle of vin rouge to have with their lunch, during the working day, in the college cantine…if someone did that routinely in the UK I dread to think what the consequences would be! Blake had the same line of thinking about the USA, seemed we were both as shocked as each other. As if we weren’t shocked enough, we swiftly went from the cantine to a café across the road from Barthou where I got my first glimpse of Marguerite de Navarre and the teachers got coffee, with a shot of straight vodka! I really have seen it all now!
Once finished at the café we went back over to Barthou as some teachers had lessons, so we used the hour to have a look around the grounds and do the all important and obligatory facebook and e-mail checks on the computers in the staffroom…as you do…
When Brigitte came back from her lesson, she gave us a tour and introduced us to all the necessary people and took us to Monique who is going deal with all the admin side of things and who we have to take documents etc to next week…gives me a week to get my life in order then…again, I was bombarded with a lot of information, this was more important than the things Camille was saying though in a way and I hope I took everything in…guess we will find that out next week when I start properly or go and observe classes...me and Blake left the lycee together as he wanted to go and find a tabac to buy a phonecard and I wanted to go and explore Pau a bit. I waited as he made a few calls in a phone box, but then saw e-mail to be the better option having come off the phone quite confused, so we went our separate ways. I went to have a mooch around the Centre Bosquet, which was opposite where I got off the bus, so I knew where I was. Bought a French mobile whilst I was there (bright pink, with flowers, never thought I’d see the day as I am really not a girly girl!!) and got shampoo and conditioner so at least I could go in with my hair looking half decent next time!
Had a mooch round the main square venturing into Nature et Decouvertes and the Fnac as I went and then saw fit to be making tracks back home, not least as I was quite warm, given that I was wearing a jacket and a top in the sun! The buses were against me again, bus confusion: take 2. Waited at the stop where I’d got off the ligne 4 bus in the morning, then crossed over the road to look at the stop where the ligne 8 stops to see if that made any more sense, but I was still none the wiser. When the number 4 stopped where I was waiting, I asked the driver if it was the right bus and as it wasn’t he pointed me in the right direction…seems the Centre Bosquet has two entrances/exits…wish someone had told me that! Finally got home though and explained to Camille about how I completely cocked up on the bus situation but how I’d otherwise had quite a good day.
After a swift walk to Champion pour faire du shopping (which was the perfect opportunity to see if I had taken everything in that Camille had told me the previous evening) as I needed to get some food in, I proceeded to eat and wash my hair! I don’t think that ever felt so good! Went to talk to Camille about the whole teachers drinking at lunchtime shock and found out that the whole coffee/vodka situation was a new one on her as well! Made a very quick phone call home as it was on the landline, went on my laptop (as per) and read some more of my book (which I was getting more and more into) before bed, knowing that I can have a lie-in tomorrow as I don’t need to be at Barthou until 2 to go to the bank and get an account sorted. First full day in France: Partial Success :)
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