I love it when the nice weather comes back. I go out more often, the sun charges my batteries and makes me happy and there are more suppers and social events.
Las Friday I had a supper with the colleagues from my master on Catalan correction. We were to meet at the flat of one of us and bring our specialities. We picked a day when the public transport worked late. Unfortunately, there was a strike that made the underground line we needed useless; though I wasn’t worried at all as a twenty-three-minute walk would deliver me to my bed.
We’re just as cute as them.
Should you think we talked a lot about our language, you’d be quite wrong. Correctors do have a life beyond dictionaries. And a new life is on its way since one of us is pregnant! At the beginning of the evening someone joked about pregnancy and the mother-to-be whispered to me “I am.” I couldn’t tell whether that was a joke or a confidence, so her confession was up in the air until she rose her glass with water in a toast and explained the reason for that liquid to be there. She’ll be responsible for passing on the pregnancy virus in the group.
Regarding the food, I can only praise our work as cooks. However, I might not be as great a cook for they only singled out the tomato in my pizza, the ingredient I forgot home and our host supplied me.
This was nothing but the beginning of the weekend, but you know I’m just as willing to write more than five paragraphs in a row as you are to read them.
Had you ever doubted about the truth in my words, this post will make you change your mind. Had you never doubted, you’re too gullible.
When you wish upon a star.
I was late to my English class a week ago. That wouldn’t be that important if I weren’t the teacher. According to myself, I was able to get to the academy on time; according to the train, I was to be ten minutes late. I hate when trains are right. The coordinator was standing in for me when I entered the classroom. I thanked her and took over the class. The kids stared at me, apparently unconcerned, holding back a question they thought somewhat inappropriate. “Guys… the teacher is late! — dramatic pause — Why are you late, Òscar? Oh, I’m glad you ask this question!” Not only were they allowed to ask, their teacher was encouraging them to do so, and they did. I told them I had signed the contract of my new flat and they went journalist berserk. “Are you living alone now?” someone asked. “Not alone — wink, wink —, not alone.” Then I rushed to start the class in order to avoid further questioning; plus that gives me a tool to get their attention fast some other day.
Now I can say I’ve been all around the compass of Barcelona. I lived in the east two years ago, in the south last year, in the west the last two months and now I’m in the north. Little do these experiences have in common, but then, you know I love changes. Let’s see what becomes of me in this new situation. Have I reached a stable situation without noticing it? Isn’t it scary?
Anyway, I remember someone saying he wasn’t celebrating Boxing Day in the flat he was living in October. Believe me, for I always speak the truth.
Last Saturday I told you that my job in the school had finished — not in the academy, unfortunately. Two groups were especially nice and they gave me lots of pictures and love letters (if I work there next year, we’ll learn how many hearts and I-love-yous are the limit not to sound weird).
These are two of the pictures, without the kids’ names.
We hope you had a great tiwe witu us! — said the super saiyan kids dressed as the Power Rangers to their ghost teacher.
And here I’m wearing my hindu trousers and my bum bag. The nice weather brings hippy fashion with it.
They've learnt a lot with me, but not enough to distinguish 'chicken' from 'kitchen'.
And since I never post any photos of me:
The way my kids see me.
1. Quite standard.
2. With a goatee. A nice way to draw my permanent five o’clock shadow.
3. Powerpuff me.
4. Young as ever. My hair hadn’t been that fair since I was four.
5. Wearing my Palestinian scarf. Again, hippy fashion.
6. That girl never paid too much attention. She doesn’t even know I wear glasses.
So sweet. I hope you enjoyed.
Years go by, we live our lives, some of my friends already have a good enough job and some are finishing their studies. We keep going out at night, going on trips and feeling forever young. And then someone has a child.
A good friend of mine had a baby one month ago. I haven’t met her yet because of my duties ― the presentation of my master and, er…, my two-week holidays in Bilbao. But last Sunday three friends and I visited them. It’s true that some other people have already had children some years ago, but those were not premeditated exceptions. This time it is the announcement of a new stage in life. We’re not so young any more.
Rather a change in my friend’s life. She looked sleepy tired, but very happy. I told her she was a step higher; the baby was in the son-daughter category, like us, and she was in the parents’ one. I got some don’t-put-her-in-a-fifty-aged-people-category looks and she said: “Well I am, and I can tell off and punish, so be careful”. True. I’m not going to answer back a mother ― unless she’s mine.
Evidence proves that pregnancy is contagious. Another girl from the village has just had a baby and you can see some suspiciously bigger bellies. The first to have children catalyse the process. Even though, I keep my vaccines up to date ― and I’m not willing to change it.
Some may think we’re too young, but our parents had us at about twenty-five. The biological clock doesn’t run out of batteries nor can any technological advances or social changes put it back. Some will avoid the infection for some years, but the virus has been unleashed.
Now, are your defences OK?