Monday, December 31, 2007

Happy New Year!

Having just been given a row for not posting enough, here I am, posting.

Suffice to say, Happy New Year, and I'll update much more in the coming year. I promise.

Paaaaaaaarrrrrrr Taaaaaaaay!

A x

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Bigotry: The Greatest Evil?

The low hum of conversation in the industriously busy classroom is a lovely sound: children thinking for themselves, collaborating with each other and developing some independence. There are moments, however, when a teacher might regret allowing children to chat, quietly, whilst they work.

Remember at school discos? When the song would come to an abrupt and startling close, just in time to expose the shouted "Fuck!" at the end of your previously private conversation?

...



"I hate chinkies!"


I'm somewhat taken by surprise by this comment, which soars like a lone, racist bird out over the buzz of chat which fills the classroom, leaving children, silent and awed in its wake. It's not difficult to find the source of the comment: I know the voice, and I know the location of its owner. I'm not keen to make a big fuss at the time because I don't want to give comments like that more attention than they deserve, and they don't deserve any. I settle for my standard recourse in a situation which I consider serious but where I want time to think about how best to deal with it in the long term:

"Language like that is totally inappropriate, and I wont stand for it in the classroom. That's 15 minutes of your Golden Time, and you can stay back after class to discuss the seriousness of what you have said."

Having made my point and cowed the accused, class continues and the end of the day rolls around.


We sit together, at the child's desk, rather than mine, so they feel comfortable and not like they're being interviewed, but I don't beat around the bush:

Me: So, what was that all about?

Child: Sorry.

Me: No, seriously, what was that about - where did that come from? For starters, explain to me what you meant with that comment.

Child: Well, I do! I hate Chinkies!

Me: Please, stop saying "Chinkies", it's not a nice word - do you mean Chinese food, or Chinese people? Either way, please say "Chinese".

Child: Chinese people.

Me: Why?! You can't just say things like that - where has this come from?

Child: Well, have you seen the state of the pollution in the rivers in China?


Me: [ ... ]


Me: Sorry?

Child: China's rivers and waterways are some of the most polluted in the world - it's appalling!


Oh....kay.


What can you say to that, really? I explained the difference between not liking pollution in China, and not liking all Chinese people, and how one really has nothing to do with the other.

I likened it to my own distaste for American foreign politics, which has nothing to do with the majority of American people, and the child seemed to get it.

But, seriously?


Inside I was laughing my ass off.



Bigotry... the greatest evil?



No, seemingly it's pollution in the rivers and waterways of Beijing.





Sunday, November 04, 2007

Oooooh

Who will be the thousandth visitor to my blog.... will it be you?

Or you?




Or..... YOU?!




Or me, maybe.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Dear oh dear.

Not a good week at all. It started out well - my new training schedule firmly in place, I was duly up at 5am for my run on Monday morning, did a pretty good job with the diet, sprints in the evening before training... pat on the back for me, I thought to myself.

It was all downhill from there, however. Tuesday I did not do my hillrun as planned, although I did do my two Thai classes - I apparently decided to swap running for Olympic biscuit-eating. Goddamned staffroom.

And the rest of the week continued in that vein, really. I missed 3 Thai classes, only went running twice and ate myself stupid.

I don't know what it is - the change in the weather? First week of term exhaustion/self-pity? Just the fact that I've not had more than 3 days off training for fights since April? Anyway, it must stop.

After the last fight I was so disappointed in myself that I determined to train like a machine for the next two, win them both, achieve international fame and fortune (well, maybe not that one) and reward myself with a couple of months of well-earned debauchery over Christmas.

So, we begin again this week. Up tomorrow at 5am for a run and this time there will be NO BISCUITS.

D'ya hear me? NO BISCUITS, God damn you!

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Fame. No fortune.

Before I get started, I have an apology to make.

Mum, I'm really, truly sorry. I swear. Alot... I thought you knew! Just try to block it out - speak to Kal's mum, she knows all about blocking out blog-swears ;)



So, basically, I used to be fat. Really quite fat. Look.


See? 14 stone, aged twenty, or thereabouts. As we know, I am now quite a bit less fat for a few reasons.

Firstly, I lost 2.5 stone with Slimming World (comes highly recommended if you like your food and you need a bit of support), and then I lost the last stone and a half or so with Muay Thai training and help from www.weighlossresources.co.uk (comes highly recommended if you want to feel like you are solely in control of your weightloss and calorie intake)

When I uploaded some before and after shots onto my profile at www.weightlossresources.co.uk it came to the attention of the owner of the site who asked if she could use me as a success story for the website. I said "Why, yes - absomalutely", and a few weeks later she emailled to say that she had passed my story on to the editor of Zest magazine who was interested in featuring me as well.

I tell you this because that's where I was yesterday: in London having a photo shoot for Zest. Rather funky, eh?

It was a pretty hectic day, preceded by a bit of fuckwittery on my account ("It's 23.30, I have to get up in 4 and a half hours, but I've left my passport at my flat and I'm staying with a friend. Shiiiiiiiiit...") and involved flying out to London at 06.30, flying back again at 14.05 and six tube rides inbetween. I arrived in North London at Veryposhhouse, on Richpeople Terrace in North London at about 09.45 and the people from the maazine were really welcoming, very friendly and professional, even though it did seem like most of their jobs consisted of having a lovely chat and a nice croissant (I'm sure there's much more to it than that, but I'm still strongly considering a move into the media industry).

The shoot itself took all of about five minutes - what really took the time was making me look like.... (prepare yourselves)... a GIRL!

Seriously, I was in makeup for about an hour and a half, and yes - I looked hot, but it really takes some of the joy out of it when you know that you *do* scrub up nice, but only with 90 solid minutes of professional help.

Once I looked female we went out into the garden for some lovely smiley shots of me in "leisure wear" (tracky B's and a nice vest top) and they took some pictures of me kicking as well, in which I pray I don't look too much of a gimp, otherwise I'll never live it down!

By 11.30 I was on my way with a bag containing a Pret a Manger sandwich and chocolate cake portion and by 16.00 I was back in sunny Edinburgh for a 2 hour stint of furniture-moving (we're having our floors sanded, hence the staying with a friend) and then off to training.

It was a busy day, but something thoroughly out of the ordinary for me. It's always nice to receive a compliment, and it makes a change to have people (from London, who work with proper girls) saying nice things about how you look, so I was feeling pretty good yesterday.

Muay Thai is great, and I'll never swap it for anything, but I find it plays havoc with my own sense of femininity. Girliness is generally *not* an advantage in contact sports, and spending most of your free time red-faced and slick with sweat is not going to make you look or feel attractive, so it was lovely to spend a morning reassuring myself that, with an effort, I can pass for pretty and it was a nice bit of recognition for the effort that's gone into losing this 4 stone.

The interview will be done over the phone apparently, and I'll mostly be mentioning Muay Thai, and the SMTC every second sentence to make sure I get some promotion of the sport in there, since god knows we need all the help we can get!

Anyway, my "Real Success" story will be in the April edition, I'm told, and I'll be sure to keep you updated with any news as it breaks (see, media-speak ;p)


In an aside, I'm deeply curious about who, if anyone, reads my blog - do me a favour and leave me a wee message so I know who's lurking there, and I will prepare myself to be extremely embarassed by the lack of responses....

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Running

Holy mother of God. Where once I had regular, non-flamey thigh muscles, now I have two large, frayed elastic bands which appear to be ON FIRE.

On Sunday the 14th October I went down to Manchester with some people from the gym (Ally, Marty, Graham and Wee Mark) to watch Master Sken's Supershow. Always a big event in the Muay Thai calender, I wasn't really too bothered about the specifics of who was fighting because I don't *really* care, I just love to watch fights. However, one of ours, Chris Polley was fighting full rules against Alix James and since some folk on the net were convinced this would be a walk in the park for Alix, we were all keen to go along and watch them realise the error of their ways.

Chris is a fantastic fighter - aggressive but composed, really unique style and incredibly fit, and since he'd just come back from Thailand we knew it would be a stormer and we weren't disappointed. He easily dominated rounds one and two, but since it was a 5 rounder and Thai judging scores rounds 1 and 2 of a 5 round fight equally, the first 2 rounds wouldn't normally make a massive difference to the outcome of the fight. However, he opened up quite a nice cut on his opponent's eyebrow in round 2, so that may have had an impact on the scores in Chris's favour.

Round 3, as Ally put it, was like something out of Rocky - Chris took two standing eights which could quite easily have cost him the fight, but his performance in rounds 4 and 5 was epic and he won the fight convincingly and against the odds.

His face looked a wee bit mashed afterwards, but he said he felt he could easily have fought another 2 or 3 rounds if he'd had to, and in light of this and my disappointing performance last week, I've thoroughly inspired to take up running. Alot.

For some reason I'm convinced I hate running, but in actual fact, if the last couple of days are anything to go by, I actually rather enjoy it. It reminds me of being a kid again in the Highlands when it's windy and rainy, and when it's sunny I get this sense of elation from being outside and listening to my favourite music.

Anyway, I asked Chris what he does to prepare for a fight, and apparently he goes running 8 or 9 times a week in addition to his Muay Thai training.

This is just a teeeeeny bit more than I do.

It's about 8 or 9 more runs a week than I've been doing, actually. So yesterday a new era dawned, and I went running round Arthur's Seat in the wind a rain and felt high as a kite afterwards, in addition to the 10 miles I cycled and the hour of training.

Today, my thighs feel as previously described: ouchy. But that's beside the point - I feel more positive, I feel like if I can keep this up for the next 6 weeks I'll mostly be keeeeking some bott at my next fight.

All I need to do is re-read this post every single morning at 5.30 when I need to get up for a run, because I can absolutely guarantee that this is not how I will be feeling when I have to run around Edinburgh in the, cold, wet nasty winter mornings which lurk just around the corner...

In light of this I am making a public pledge and I invite anyone who reads my blog to call me on it regularly and question/hassle/mock me about my running.

I, Aarayan, hereby solomnly swear that I will get up and go for a run at 5.30am every monday, wednesday and friday morning, and that I will also go for a really good run on a Thursday night because there's no training. Furthermore, I swear that at least 2 of those runs will include nasty shit like hill spints and steps. I promise this on pain of mockery and poor performance in the ring.

Watch this space...

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Made it.

It's finally the october break, and I'm so tired that there isn't even a descriptive term for it. Every new teacher (and every experienced one, for that matter) will tell you that it's that first term which really stings. The sheer work involved in that first round of forward planning, where you have not a clue what you're supposed to do. The unfamiliarity with the resources in the school - where the fuck is everything? What are you supposed to do? The daily battle with behaviour: a problem in any new class, let alone a class like mine. New children, new staff, new surroundings - it's a big challenge and one which takes its toll on any teacher.

There have been many occasions over the past 8 weeks where I have really, truly doubted my ability to make it even this far as a teacher, let alone to the end of the year, so I do have a certain degree of pride in the fact I've made it to half-term, and further that I've done so without a nervous breakdown. It hasn't, however, been easy. I've cried myself stupid many times at school, in the toilets at lunch and break, in my room at the end of the day, thinking "What the fuck am I playing at - it's not worth it". And I'm not the only one, by a long stretch, it's been hard for others who I know, harder even.

But, it's not been a wasted term: I've made progress personally and professionally. My disaterous first unofficially observed lesson has been improved upon with two good, if not outstanding lessons, of which I'm fairly proud. The constant stream of bad, shocking behaviour has been, if not replaced, broken up by lessons in which the behaviour could be desribed as very good. It's been a good few weeks since I've cried from stress or despair about teaching, and it's also a few weeks since I've considered quitting, although the last week was a time in which I regularly had to force myself into school against my own wishes.

Of course, I've made life a bit more difficult for myself with the training - I've spent a term getting into school for 7.15, working 11 hours a day to leave at 6.15 (when the school closed), and training for an hour or sometimes two every night. My poor, uncomplaining husband has literally not seen me for more than 2 waking hours a day for over 2 months, but he never makes a fuss - he may well be too good for me.

So, praise be, I've got a week of no school. A week of sleeping late, doing what I want, or not doing anything at all. I've got no fights scheduled at the moment, so I don't need to diet as such, but I intend to eat healthily, exercise lots and try to get a bit more healthy: I am at the moment a bit on the grey, spotty, cold-ridden side, as my immune system has taken quite a wallop recently.

The highlights?

It's made me very happy to see the way that some wee boys, who would have me believe they're the hardest thing since Ghengis Khan, will light up with joy and self-satisfaction at the mention of a pleased note home to their mothers in a special, silver bound jotter with stars on which says "Colin* is a Star!" inside the front cover. (*names changed to protect identity)

Small victories, like having taken two girls who hadn't understood in maths, out of class in my own time to try again to explain how fractions convert to decimals and vice versa, and having them say "oooohhhh, right....I get it now - I understand", can really make your day.

Hearing, second or third hand, that management consider you "well organised" is nice in an anally retentive, superficial kind of way.

Camp was a great experience - some of these children are just not designed for formalised education, and they thrived in the environment of activity, self-relience, and challenge which camp provided. Also, being surrounded by young men and women who were all, without exception, cool and who were not afraid to tell the little hard-nuts just how unimpressed they were by their antics certainly did them no harm.

So, it's not been all bad by any means, and I'll stick it out I think and make it to the end of the year.

But in the meantime?

Fuck teaching. I'm on holiday :)

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Results....

Well, it's not quite the unblemished record I was hoping for, but it is, as they say in East Lothian "No Bad". I got a draw this time, against an embarrassingly young (15) female fighter called Hayley Thomson from Fighting Fit Gym, but who I can safely say is tough as old boots.

Another C -class 3 rounder, I was much more tired during this fight than for the two previous ones, for various reasons. Initially I was supposed to be fighting a different girl at 64kg, who pulled out at the last minute because of weight issues, and was rematched with my opponent, Hayley Thomas, at 62 kgs. This did mean a 2 kg weight cut in the 5 days before the fight, which was no fun at all, especially since I also had to go away on school camp the weekend of the fight. Have you ever tried sidling up to a chef at an activity camp and telling him his pizza and chips looks fab, but would he mind heating up this bowl of Weight Watchers soup? No? It's embarrassing.

Anyway, camp was great fun, but did unfortunately involve forfeiting the usually standard rest period before a fight and swapping it for 17 hour days of abseiling, archery, trapeze, raft-building, and child entertaining. Not a plan of action I intend to ever repeat again. Turns out that looking after 10 children on an outdoor activity weekend, in the cold on 800 calories a day is actually not much fun at all, but I am glad I went even still.

So, in addition to all that, obviously I had no access to a sauna or a salt bath, so the day before the fight ran thusly:

06.00-07.00 - 3 mile run in a sweat suit.
08.00 - fruit for breakfast
09.00 - 10.30 - abseiling
10.30 -12.00 - archery
12.00 - 14.00 - Lunch (soup) and general child coralling
14.00-15.30 - trapeze
15.30-17.00 - Raft building (sat on the side for this one - didn't fancy dunking myself in a freezing cold muddy pond!)
17.00-18.00 - child minding and dinner (soup)
18.00-19.00 - 3 mile run in a sweat suit
19.00-20.30- Child activities
20.30-11.00 - getting children to sleep
11.00-06.00 - lying awake worrying about weight

Come fight morning I was mostly grey, spotty and knackered and in a final fart in the face from fate, spending a weekend with 50 hormonal girls brought my period on with no warning, on the morning of the fight. Nice.

So, a very kind colleague gave me a lift back to Edinburgh at 06.30 from the camp just north of Perth, getting me back to my house at about 08.30 on the Sunday morning, and Ally picked me up about an hour later and we and Kim drove through to Baillieston for the weigh in at 11.00. Come 12.15 my opponent hadn't arrived yet and rather than risk me going out and hunting down a ned for sustenance the referee officiated my weigh-in so I could get down the serious business of eating..... EVERYTHING.

Or, at least, everything that was left after Ally got his grubby paws on it... ;)

The fight itself is a bit of a blur - I remember various points with particular clarity, such a the moment when John shouted "push her off and high kick", so I pushed, stepped in and threw my hip, only to watch my "high-kick" hit her just above the knee.

"Hmmmmm...", I thought. "Shit."

I remember thinking "Holy fuck, I'm tired. I wish she'd just go away!", but she didn't, so we fought it out to the end. I beat her on the outside because I'm stronger and more technical, but she beat me in the clinch because she's fitter and had a much higher rate of activity. In the end it was announced in the ring as a win to me, but it was a mistake and was in fact a draw to us both.

To be honest, I'm happy with that - I felt at the time I didn't deserve to win, and I'm more comfortable with that decision. However, I am disappointed not to have another win, obviously, and I'm also a bit disappointed in myself because I know I can do better, and that I didn't prepare well enough for the fight.

However, I learned alot from it - I know exactly what I did wrong and why I didn't win, and I know how to fix it, and next time I definitely wont be making the same mistakes again.

So watch out ;)

Check out the photos of the show here, I'm about halfway down, looking, erm, photogenic as ever:

http://www.marktimmphotography.co.uk/gallery_99026.html

Friday, September 21, 2007

Yet another fight

Righty-ho: those of you who know my oh-so-secret and well-guarded identity, this is fair warning that I'm fighting again in just over 2 weeks on the SMTC show in Baillieston (near Glasgow).

This show here, in fact:






This will be my 3rd fight, provided I can get matched with someone before then, as my original opponent has pulled out due to apparent weight issues.

It's looking like I'm going to need to weigh 60kg for this fight, that's 2kg less than I had to weigh for the last fight, before which I was so very very hungry, so wish me luck!

In other news, happy birthday for tomorrow to Ally (my instructor)

Hip hip, HOORAY!

A x

Monday, September 17, 2007

Aarayan - 2, other folk - 0

Hooray - I won yesterday's fight in Ayr, so I'm feeling rather chuffed with myself today and not too sore either.

Getting down the the weight was quite a struggle this time and I was very very hungry and very very dehydrated by the time I weighed-in, but I was quite a bit under weight which means I can fight that little bit lighter if I need to. Mind you, everybody was under, so it might just have been the scales. Anyway, the weigh-in was interesting as me and my opponent were the only two females on the show, and whilst she had rather sensibly changed into her shorts before the weigh-in, I just merrily whipped off my jeans and displayed the pants which it had seemed perfectly reasonable to put on a 5am that day - a pair of polka-dotted knickers with lacy trim. Hmmmm. I may not have done my reputation any good there, but at least they might ask me back. Especially as I was standing there in my pants for what felt like about 4 hours while they tried to get the scales to work. Nice.

I got a good look at her during the weigh-in anyway and it was pretty obvious that we were very different builds - I was quite a few inches taller and alot slimmer than her which is definitely an advantage as it means I've got further reach and more leverage in the clinch. That helped to boost my confidence a bit although my stomach still felt as though I'd just eaten about 15 very angry snakes.

I was on 5th which was about a 3rd of the way through the show, so I didn't have too long to wait to go on. I had my medical check, which goes:

Doctor: Alright?
Fighter: Yup
Doctor: Any injuries?
Fighter: Naaaaah.
Doctor: You understand the risks?
Fighter: Yup.
Doctor: Here, sign this. Good luck!
Fighter: Ok, thanks.

After that I got my hands wrapped, changed, gloves on and warmed up. The waiting around before-hand has got to be the worst thing - I felt like I was going to vomit pretty much the whole time, but I was trying to look hard and confident because my girl was warming up outside and she was having a very good look at me.

In general I don't remember a huge amount of detail about the fight. I know that I came out in the first round and landed quite a few head-kicks since I wanted to take advantage of her height deficit, and I know I did most of the moving forward for the duration of the fight, but beyond that I didn't have a particularly clear idea that I was winning.

I felt we were fairly even in the clinch inspite of her height, and although she didn't actually hurt me, I think she might have been a bit fitter because she was very very busy the whole time. I remember hearing Ally screaming at me to get my hands up and thinking "oh, whoops" having not realised they were practically around my waist, and I'm aware she did catch me 1 good right hook as I have a nice bruise on my jaw.

However, I'm very pleased with how I did, I think it was a good fight and I can't wait for the next one, although I'm anticipating a much harder fight next time.

In addition, it was quite nice as our fight was announced as "Fight of the Night", so I got two trophies instead of one, *and* the MC said he fancied me - what more can a girl ask for, eh?

Now for a day of lounging, movies and food

Huzzah!

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Another fight

I'm fighting for the second time in, oh, about... 10 hours in Ayr.

In a cage in Ayr.

That got your attention, eh?

It's not a cage match, it's a regular Thai Boxing fight, but it's at an MMA show where they have to fight in a cage because in a regular ring they run the risk of accidentally rolling out under the ropes whilst they're doing all that terribly manly and not at all homo-erotic wrestling on the floor.

Nevertheless, it'll look Damn Cool. Yeah, that's right - capital D, captial C. Damn Cool.

Obviously, I can't pull a fast one on you: it's 4.44 am and I'm awake an writing rubbish in my blog, and this would be indicative of the fact I'm very very nervous. I run through scenarios in my head: what happens if she does this, what do I do there, which way do I go to seal the ring, again? And it doesn't help that in order to make the weight I've had to de-hydrate to the max and so my head hurts, my lips and mouth are bone-dry and I'm starving hungry having barely eaten yesterday.

But it'll all be fine soon - the weigh-in is at 10.30am and then I have until my fight to eat and drink myself back to normality. I've got pasta with sausage, sundried tomato pesto and mushrooms, 2 bagels with cream-cheese and smoked salmon, various Lucozade drinks to re-hydrate with, sugar-free Red Bull (to make up for the sleep I'm not getting tonight), a Galaxy Caramel and a bag of Thorntons treacle toffee.

"Is that all?" I hear you ask - Why, no! No it's not. Apparently the gym who're hosting this show, Wossobama, also do a mean buffet for the fighters after the weigh-in, which includes a selection of tray-bakes, so don't worry about me, I'll be fine ;)

Anyway, in the spirit of confidence and positive thinking, I intend to win very convincingly tomorrow, since fighting at another gym's show generally means you're less likely to win as the judges, referee and crowd are sometimes a tad biased towards their own fighter. As such the best plan is to "stop them or drop them", meaning put them on their arse repeatedly to knacker them and make them look bad, or KO them before the end of the fight and then there's no doubt about who won. So, that's the plan. Expect an update on Monday - we're looking for Aarayan 2 - World 0 ;p

Wish me luck!

A x

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

On the treadmill

That's it - I'm Mrs Aarayan now, and *I* am a Real Teacher. 32 11 year-olds think so, so it must be true.

All weekend before the Monday I was, how shall I say.... a miserable git. Just feeling terrified, negative: "I can't do it, I don't even know if I want to do it, I can't cope".

The news early on Friday morning, just as I was starting to feel like it *might* just be ok, that I was to have a new boy, with extremely complex additional needs, and who would bring my class total to one under the legal limit, put me on somewhat of a downer.

So, I worried myself sick, irritated my husband beyond belief and dragged myself up and out the door at 6.45am on Monday morning, to begin what I was sure would be the first day of a truly crappy career. However, as is so often the case, I was wrong.

Yes it's definitely going to be difficult, but it's going to be ok - I'm earning the class's respect and reaping rewards in generally good behaviour. I'm managing not to take bad behaviour personally and set appropriate sanctions and rewards, and I'm making my class a positive, effective learning environment for the children who want to learn.

I am confident that I will have plenty of stories to tell, albeit deeply anonymised, because this is certainly going to be an interesting year if nothing else.

The first battle is won - never again will I have to endure the build up and the dread of that first bell on my first ever day as a teacher. I've started on the treadmill and I've survived. And more importantly, I'm starting to believe that I may actually be a real, live teacher.

Let's wait and see....

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Let's start at the very beginning

Today was my first day as a salaried teacher. Admittedly, I didn't have to teach anybody anything, it was inservice, but my contract began today, and from today I am a real, live teacher.

So how was it? Well, the school performed very badly in last September's HMIe inspection report and as such has alot of work to do to avoid this ever happening again. Much of this work has been begun, but alot still has to happen, and since the previous HeadTeacher has now left and a new HT has joined the staff, big changes are afoot. The school is also in the process of being systematically rebuilt and refurnished, so it is a time of massive change and, hopefully, improvement.

The upshot of all this is... meetings. We discussed the previous inspection and the results, how the staff felt things had improved and where they felt things needed to go in order to develop which was interesting for me, not having seen the school as it was when the fateful inspection took place. I know what I need to be doing in my class to improve learning and teaching and meet the requirements of the HMIe, but it's difficult to think in a wider, whole-school context because I don't know the school. This will be a long-running thing, and I think the theme of the year will be "Development Meetings".....fun.

After that we had some discussions about contracted time and stuff which made no sense to any of us probationers, followed by a yummy lunch.

A Fire Dude (official title) came to talk to us from the Council, due in part to the fact that the school has only *just* ceased to be an official "building site" and instead be classified as a "place of work", so we now know how not to burn to death.

After this I had a meeting with my stage partners (i.e. the other teachers of P7, of which there is 1 full time, 2 job share and my own 0.3 - the teacher who takes the class when I'm not there). We planned activities for the week ahead, and all in all I feel much more comfortable about what's going to happen next week and what I'm going to be doing.

Then I went back to my classroom, faffed around for an hour and came home, steadfastly resisting the urge to take stuff back with me, stare at it, panic, and do nothing useful at all.

Tomorrow it's back to school to get all the fiddly little jobs like putting name labels on the children's trays, creating group sheets, making laminated letters to label the big wall boards with (saying things like "environmental studies" etc.) and I expect we'll talk more about timetabling, development plans etc.

So, now you know what an inservice day is like (you poor, bored souls), tonight Paul and I are going to order a new and lovely bed, and I'm going to drink some wine and possibly have chinese for dinner (even though that's very naughty) to celebrate the fact that I am now, officially, a properly independent grown up.

Now, when you're all facing the front, listening carefully and not talking, you may put your chairs up on the tables, get your bags and line up at the door for home-time....

Good evening, class - see you tomorrow :)

Sunday, August 12, 2007

General Catch-up

Well, until school starts on the 20th I have very little of Earth-shattering importance to share, so instead I thought I'd just tell you about all the gubbins I've been up to recently.

For the first 3 days of next week I'll be attending a Probationers induction thing giving us, I presume, all the information we should have had a uni in the space of 3 days, to prepare us for the year ahead as woefully under-prepared and inexperienced teachers. The last two days of the week will be in-service days in school, talking about.....schooly things. I think.

I've already been into school for a day and organised my classroom, which feels a weird thing to say: "My classroom". As though I am in some way.... in control. This feels not only weird, but also like a big fat lie. Anyway, it looks pretty lovely now and just needs a few homely touches, such as some nice kids' books (which I have loads of.... What. They're good!), a plant or two and a lamp. Yes, I'm a girl - there's not a room in the world that can't be drastically improved by a plant and a lamp.

All I have to worry about now is what I'm actually going to teach. But, Pshaw! 'Tis but a minor concern.

In other news, Paul and I are doing all sorts of nice housey things, like repainting, having the floors sanded and buying a new and oh-so-lovely bed. When you've spent 6 years sleeping on a mattress which came from Ikea you'll understand the joy this news brings me. No more springs in the armpit in the middle of the night! No more bruises on my hip-bones from said springs, which I can only assume are made out of the earthly manifestation of Pain. Nonononono. Now it's all pocket-sprung, memory-foam, super-dooper loveliness, originally commissioned for the Emperor Fabulous himself, coupled with a solid Oak bedframe which will weigh an utter ton, but look like the dog's bollocks. Or even the Emperor Fabulous's bollocks - I mean, why not - we've already got his mattress.

Furthermore! There is a blocked up fireplace in our bedroom. We may, just *may* unblock it, and then we'll have a working fire in our bedroom. By the sea.

Do *you* have an open fire in your bedroom by the sea? No? Well I do. Nearly.

We're also having our hallway repainted. I accept full responsibility for the fact that our hallway is the same colour as Hell. I thought it would look cool and sophisticated or something. How wrong I was - it looks like we got very very drunk, and said;

"What colour shall we paint this internal hallway which has no windows in order for it to look as shit as humanly possible, and so that if any small children wander in they will assume that they have accidentally stumbled upon the lair of a wicked witch who will, at best, turn them into hideous beasts and enslave them and at worst eat them?"

"Oooh, honey, there's one on this colour chart called - 'Bowels of Hell Red 104' - would that do? Or would you prefer 'Intestinal Tract 19'? And make sure you get it all over the ceiling as well - that's a really classy look."

So, no more of that - we're going for plain old boring pale, ivory-ish yellow.

No, not Magnolia. No. Magnolia's.... different. How? I don't know, it just is.

Really, completely different.

Ok. It's Magnolia. Shut up.

Japanese Folk - crazy or cool? You decide. Provided you decide they're cool.

I know it's bad form just to post YouTube videos on your blog, but the world needs to see this, due to its fantastic-ness.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Daft Punk

I've only recently discovered that I actually really, really like Daft Punk, and Paul showed me these videos on the wonderful world of Youtube.

I want to be able to do either of these things. Now, please.

In this one, I believe she danced at half speed to the track played at half speed and then it was returned to the correct speed, which makes it look extra cool.



Friday, July 20, 2007

Happy Anniversary

Paul and I have been married for a year now, which seems just an impossible thing. Come tomorrow we will officially no longer be newlyweds, and you stingy bastards who haven't got us a wedding present will be too late to do so. FOR SHAME!!!

I suppose it's traditionally about this time that people tend to reflect on the year gone by and consider what they've learned. I've learned a fair bit, mostly in the last month.

I've learned that I am neither as strong nor as weak as I had hoped or feared, and I am not independent, or adventurous, or wild or anything of that sort. I'm lap-dog, not a lone wolf: I wont be travelling the world alone and sleeping in yurts or whatever it is that properly strong, independent women do.

I need company, a person to support me, reassure me, understand that I'm needy and insecure, but keep me strong and show me I'm safe. I need someone to talk to, to describe things poorly to, to be able listen to my nonsense about Orwell, the economy and tomato-shaped universes and not judge me for it, realising that it's not a sign of pathological stupidity, as it may seem.

I've learned that I need someone who reminds me that I'm beautiful and who believes that I'm worthwhile and special and unique and feels better for having seen me, and who can tell me all of those things without feeling weak.

I've learned that I need a partner who understands and supports me and never judges me and finds me lacking.

And I've learned that I have all of that, and I've learned that I have all I need.

Happy anniversary, Paul xxx

Thursday, July 19, 2007

At last, I'm finished!

Go, immediately, to my Flickr page, for Lo! I hath uploaded all my pictures and they're *damn* cool. There's elephants, and fights, and my hair looking really *really* stupid.

Go!

NOW!

Scotland 1 - Thailand 0

Woo hoo! I won!

Before the fight all day I was pretty nervous - I was supposed to be resting or sleeping but really I was packing and worrying and eventually got a nap about 4 pm and had to get up again at 5pm. I ate some food, worried a bit more and eventually met at the gym to head to the stadium at about 8.30pm.

Then it was all set for many more hours of waiting around, watching fights and going "oooooooooooooh! Ouch!" at the slapping, cracking sound that the fighters' shins mad against one another's legs, and thinking " I really don't want any part of me to make that noise".

Noom arrived with my custom shorts, which in no way resembled the design I had given him and were the wrong size, so had to deal with that and tried not to let it throw me off.

Eventually, about 10.00pm I went back to get my hands wrapped, get changed and start warming up. I was massaged with Thai oil and vaseline to get good and warm and slippy (no jokes, thank you) and then it was some stretching and shadow boxing to keep warm - they don't hit the pads here in Thailand before a fight since they're all already pretty warm most of the time!

There's alot less fuss made about fighting here, so no entrance music, no big intro, my trainer just walked off and went "Sayla!" (which is the closest they can get to my name), I followed him, and before I knew it it was time to get in the ring.

In Thailand women aren't allowed to go over the top rope, because we suck, apparently, so I went under the bottom rope, bowed all around and waited for my opponent to get in. Then the announcer gave us both a big intro and I got a huge roar from the crowd - it was very busy and there must have been quite a few people there from Scotland or Europe,. because they were very supportive.

Once the music started, we both sealed the ring and performed our Wai Kru's. And I didn't even fall over! Although I nearly went round the wrong way to seal the ring, which was a little embarrassing.

The ref called us into the middle and said.....something, and I nodded like I understood and went back to the corner, Tim took my Mongkon off and it was time to get started. The plan was to go Thai-style and stay relaxed and playful the first two rounds since they score them 10-10 whatever happens, so I kept her off with a few front kicks, followed up with a wee bit of boxing. She got me once or twice with punches to the face, and one of her teeps through me off balance as I was about to kick when it landed, but I recovered and came back forwards. During the first break after round 1 Tim told me to stay in the centre of the ring, keep in front of her and don't let her run around too much, since she was constantly moving backwards.

Round 2, I followed Tim's advice and kept to the centre of the ring, staying in fornt of her always. We continued with the teeps and punches exchange but I was obviously starting to intimidate her a bit, since I was bigger and moving forwards all the time. I landed one elbow during a flurry and got sparkled by a right hand in return and blocked, gave and received a kick or two. We got into the clinch at one point with me up against the ropes, so I turned her, got her against the ropes and kneed, which I was rather pleased with.

After the round, Tim told me to start faking left front kicks and stepping into a right body, or vice versa - step and kick, step and punch.

3rd round - just did as I was told. We both stepped up the pace and got in each other's faces a bit more. I stayed inside her range and kept pulling her guard down to get her with right elbows and must have hit her 5 or 6 times before I finally caught her an absolute cracker on the jaw with a cross elbow. She dropped her guard, stepped back and rubbed her face, went to her corner and I eventually remembered to go to the neutral corner while she got her standing 8 count. While I was standing there though, the ref came and got me and lifted my arm to say she had asked for the towel to be thrown in and I had won.

I couldn't believe it, and looked to the corner to say "Eh?!" and everyone was celebrating, so I figured it must be true and grinned my head off, and that was that really. The crowd went mental, which was good - I was worried they'd be rooting for the Thai and I'd get booed, went to thank the other team and get some water from them (this is just something which happens, I don't know why) and it was all over.

I'm totally un-injured - I don't have a single, solitary bruise from the fight which, as anyone who trains with me will know, is miraculous, as I bruise much like an over-ripe peach. In fact, I could have fought again the following day, with no trouble at all, and I can only hope it wont be too long before I get the chance to try my hand in this country.

I'm very pleased with how I performed - the one thing I wanted to achieve was to look confident and competent - like I knew what I was doing, had sound technique, and preferably that I had fought before, and I'm told that's what I looked like, so I'm happy.

If it transpires that there's a video to show I'll post it on the blog - I really hope there is, but I'm not holding out much hope.

I'm back at home, unpacked and washed, after a mammoth and awful journey home, with sleep-deprivation to the max. But I'm home, and that's what matters :)

And that's all folks!

(Yay, Scotland!)

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Here come the nerves...

So, the fight is in about 24 hours, and any semblance of being cool, calm and collected has pretty much been stripped away.

My heart is already beating faster, I feel sick, my head hurts and I'm clammy with sweat - either I'm sick or I'm very anxious: I'll reserve judgement for the time being.

I had a very strange experience this evening - I went to the Sunday market with Damon to find a present for Paul (this I did, and oh what a present, but more of that later....) and was handed a poster with a big picture of me on it, advertising the fight tomorrow. That will just never, ever, ever happen again. Never in a thousand years, unless of course I fight again in Thailand, will I, personally, be used to advertise a fight, and rightly so. Seriously, if people actually come to this show just on the basis of that poster they're going to get a pretty skewed idea of what Muay Thai looks like! Anyway, it was scary, and it was very odd, but it was also kind of cool :)

As for the present? Well, what can I say? Not much, actually because it's a surprise, but he'll love it, and he'll love the fact that I managed to get it back from the night market riding as a helmetless passenger on the back of a moped in Thai traffic, clinging on for dear life, trying not to decapitate other motorists with it. And hopefully he'll appreciate the truly epic and monumental effort it's going to take to get it and my rucksack back through 5 airports on 2 (3?) different continents, despite the fact it's going to exceed all my baggage allowances. Mostly I'm just chuffed I managed to find something that, whilst probably still overpriced tat will look damn nice at home and make my honey smile.

In other news, I never managed to see Doi Suthep, because I was stood up by the guy who was going to give me a lift, but I probably needed what passed for the rest I had instead.

I did, however, see elephants. Lots of elephants. Big ones, small ones, ones as big as your.....elephant. And I have LOTS of photos, but you'll have to wait till I get home to see them because I've got other things on my plate just at the minute.

Anyway, it's probably time I was going home and trying to sleep, but actually just lying in bed going "ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod" until 5 am.

Wish me luck!

Aarayan x

Friday, July 13, 2007

3 days and counting....

The fight's on Monday, so I'm all finished training now - it's time to rest and let the muscles repair themselves. Mr Kob's had the posters made and it's most scary seeing myself on one (looking terrible I might add) and the promise of a "Scottland [sic] vs Thailand International Fight!" - let's hope it's worth watching!

My opponent has had 10 fights, which sounds alot but isn't many by Thai standards. She's 55kg, which is quite a bit lighter, but hopefully not too embarrassingly so. By the sounds of it at least I wont be fighting the tea-lady ;)

I achieved a nice bit of gift shopping today, and tomorrow I'm off to learn about elephants (very exciting). On Sunday I will go and visit Doi Suthep, get a massage, and go to the Sunday Night Bazaar in town for more, hardcore shopping.

Monday will see me resting, cleaning my room, packing, getting my Kruang Wrang and dad's Buddha blessed by monks at the temple and then it's time to put my money where my mouth is.....

I'll be in touch before then, but think of me on Monday at about 5-6pm GMT...

Aarayan x

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Sunny Sunday Sightseeing

After last nights very late night, I had a lovely long lie this morning, with no thoughts of having to get up for training and running and all the rest of it, and finally dragged myself out of bed at about 10.30 for a shower. I met up with Ben at 12 and went for lunch down the road, having for myself half a roast chicken with sticky rice. Yes. I'm fat :) After the waiter claimed to have absolutely no idea what pad Thai was, or what a noodle looked like, Ben gave in and ate the chicken satay which was brought to him and blatantly should have gone to someone else instead. You snooze you lose.

After that we headed into Chiang Mai on Ben's moped, and went to see Wat Phra Singh which is, seemingly, the finest example of a wat (temple) to be found in Chiang Mai. So says my Rough Guide to Thailand, and it was very beautiful, but I would love to have seen Doi Suthep while I was here - I just don't think it's going to be possible though, without a willing volunteer with a moped to take me.

I have uploaded some photos of the wat here, and it was lovely to see such a beautiful building and experience some of the atmosphere of calm inside it. I got myself blessed by a monk, who threw ALOT of water at me whilst chanting, presumably in Pali, and received a small, scented piece of white string tied around my left wrist. I wont lie: I have no idea what it means. Ben had to tie it for the monk, as monks are forbidden to touch or be touched my a woman, presumably because it's just not fair when you've been celibate for 50 years.

Because it's Sunday it's eat-what-you-like day (this is an unofficial thing, obviously...) so Ben wanted to go to Mike's a place which sells hellishly unhealthy Western food, like chilli burgers and the like, and after a wee basket of chips for me I felt pretty damn Western, I can tell you. Honestly, the look of internal struggle on Ben's face whilst his conscience fought his appetite was a wonder to behold :)

And that was that, really. We headed back, got a coconut icecream with Damon at the gym from a wee man on a moped who came by, then had another coconut icecream and sat about an shot the breeze whilst the heavens opened and dumped ridiculous quanities of water on Sunpaliang.

I had kind of hoped my day of tourism might last a bit longer, but it's been good to get out and about, and see some things which have nothing to do with Muay Thai. I'd really like to go to the Night Bazaar this evening, but without a friend and some transport it isn't going to happen so me this week. Perhaps something will come up - you just never know. Either way, perhaps banana rotee will feature in my plans...

I'm really looking forward to getting home now - I'm pretty homesick and quite lonely alot of the time, although it's been much easier this week with having plucked up the courage to force innocents like Ben and Damon to hang out with me. But I miss my friends, my family and my Paul.

One more week to go of hard training, then a day of bathing and feeding elephants, two days off, and a fight - plenty to think about and keep me occupied at any rate and before you know it I'll be back in rainy, rainy Scotland, damp but happy :)

Aarayan x

Transformers: The Movie

Last night a few of us from the gym decided to get the hell out of Sunpaliang and go and see a movie at the mall, also called Central Airport Plaza (a magical sounding place, I think you'll agree).

Anyway, like a child who has spent long weeks locked in a cupboard under the stairs with nothing but a book about antidisestablishmentarianism to read, and no company beyond that of a small, unhealthy hedgehog called Bert, I was terribly excited by all the bright shiny lights and flashing things, and jingly noises which emanated from the various games machines and shops in evidence. However, since the movie wasn't actually on until 10.20, and as we arrived at 8.30 and the mall shut at 9, we had very little to do in that palace of wonders for an hour or so, but eventually, however, the time passed, and the hour of wonder drew near: a movie! In English! With *colour*!

And we weren't disappointed. How could we be? They're *robots*....

.... and they're IN DISGUISE!

Obviously, the plot was.... shaky, and to call it far-fetched wouldn't even do it justice, what with it being about a race of alien robots.... IN DISGUISE! But none of that matters a jot. The special effects rocked the Casbah: the robots transform and fight and move in a way that made me feel like I was 7 again and watching the cartoon movie for the first time. It was exciting, slick, funny and can only really be done justice by the big screen and a healthy dose of Dolby Surround Sound with sub woofers.

Now, it *is* a Spielberg movie, so it's not without its issues - there's alot of Optimus Pride based sentimentality about his duty to protect the fledgling human race, and no small amount of American war propaganda, with American soldiers proclaiming "All I want is to see my little girl again" as they tenderly care for the small Arab boy who, of course, has befriended them. I mean, why wouldn't he?! *All* Arabs in war zones just love the Americans, and likewise, all American soldiers are brave, fine, upstanding young family-men who wouldn't hesitate to lay down their lives for small children and alien races. Obviously. It's America.

Anyway, those irritations aside, it's well worth watching, and from my admittedly hazy memory of the original cartoons, it does the story justice. Just remember, none of those other things matter, because they're fucking cool robots....

IN DISGUISE!

Friday, July 06, 2007

Tourism, at long last.

I've got a plan. On saturday the 14th I don't have to train because the fight is on Monday and I'm supposed to have a rest. So, rather than resting in the *traditional* sense, I'm going to go and visit an elephant conservation park for the day and learn about feeding and bathing elephants. I'm going to do this all on my own, because *I*....... am a brave little soldier. My mum should be proud. I even have a waterproof camera, so I can take pictures of big, wet elephants right up close :)

I'm also this Sunday going to go to see a temple in Chiang Mai with Ben from the gym and go to the night bazaar and get some souveniers, so it's tourism all round, really. Finally! Some pictures of something other than Muay Thai!

In other news, it has been decided that my fight will be 5 x 3 rounds, full rules (since they all are here) and Tim assures me the girl wont be tooooooooo tiny (maybe 5kg lighter) but will have a few fights experience to make up for the deficit (but not, like, 200 or anything). At any rate, he assures me she wont be "embarrassingly small", which is good. The last thing I want is just to beat up a tiny little woman.

Everybody seems to think it's going to be a walk in the park for me, and she'll take one look at my relatively massive, Western self and go "ooooh, I fell down! I'm KO'd" about 2 minutes in. I hope that doesn't happen, I want it to be fair, and I want it to be a proper experience which I can learn something from - I'd rather lose in a fair fight, and feel that I did my best than win unfairly.

So, I am attempting to lose at least 1kg this coming week, so that I come home at 63kg, and if I could lose 2kg then so much the better, and so I bid farewell to pad thai, to khao pad, and to sticky rice, and usher in a new dawn of yoghurt, fruit, boiled rice with chicken, and soup....


...and banana rotee. Of course, still banana rotee :)

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Fotees.

Photos are up now on my Flickr account - check them out here. There's more going up all the time, and I'm going to try really hard to get out to something touristy this weekend so I have at least *some* pictures which aren't about Muay Thai :)

Aarayan

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Banana Rotee is made by God.

Handily, or perhaps unfortunately, for me, God has a little cart at the top of the road where she makes and sells this heavenly dish....uh-oh.

Banana rotee, for those philistines amongst you who don't know, is basically chopped banana, mixed with egg and condensed milk, fried in an egg-based, thin pastry-type casing, and all folded in on itself, fried more and then, when it's all lovely and crispy and golden (and at this point about 8mm thick and the size of a paper-back book in length and width), chopped into bite-sized chunks, covered in more condensed milk and sugar.

Oh. God. Yes.

What's that?.... Did I lose weight in Thailand?...... Um......

What else is new. I've been introduced to the food market in Nongghoy, which is the suburb of Chiang Mai in which I'm staying, and it's a fabulous place. There's loads of tiny little stalls, each selling something different, like pad thai (stir fry), khao pad (fried rice), barbequed meats like pork (muu), chicken (gai), duck (yaang) etc, seafood, all sorts of yummy things in different formats and different combinations. Also, there are plenty of stalls selling sweets and fruit, and for some reason the fruit here is amazingly sweet - pineapple tastes totallt different, and the watermelon is fantastic. Jealous? ;p

Training is still much the same, very different, not always as hard as I expected, and I hate running, so very very much. So much. However, at least running at home will be easier, because it wont be 30 degrees. That's going to be enough of an improvement.

Other than that, I have some hopes to perhaps go to the zoo at the weekend, or visit Doi Suthep if I can convince someone to come with me - I need to have been a tourist at least once before I leave!

I'm trying to get some pictures up for you, but it's a bit of a nightmare - keep checking Flickr, there'll be something tomorrow or the day after, come hell or high water......

Aarayan x

Friday, June 29, 2007

Long, hot days

Training is ticking along nicely - I'm learning so much, particularly in the clinch, and my kicking technique has improved a shitload, it's fab. I didn't make it along to training this morning because I was feeling pretty rubbish with a sore throat and a sore stomache, so I'm hoping the throat will clear up quickly and not develop into anything too sinister. I actually managed to sleep all night, too, which was both big *and* clever, as usually I wake up every hour or two to switch the air conditioning on, then off, then on, then off....

At about 7am what sounds like a convoy of articulated lorries appears to roar through my bedroom, but it's just the Thais starting to head off to work outside on their phalanx of mopeds and trucks and cars, but it's pretty bloody loud, so that acts as an effective wake-up call. Today, however, I slept (with difficulty, but someone's gotta do it) until about 10.30, then took a wander up the road to find tesco, buy some fruit and rent a DVD to watch in the afternoon. I lay around drinking OJ, eating Chinese pears and watching an o.k. sort of Robin Williams movie (The Good Guy - doesn't warrant a review), ate lunch, collected laundry and went to training. So it's not terribly exciting alot of the time, and this is why I don't have many pictures. So far, I've taken 3 pictures of geckos, and 5 pictures of what my room looks like......sad.

Anyway, I'm going to try and force innocent bystanders to come and do touristy things with me, like ride an elephant or something, so I've got some good pictures - I'm very selfless like that.... or incredibly selfish, not sure which...

In other news, I went to watch some fights last night - Pedro from the gym was having his first fight and we all went along to support. It's alot different from fights at home: weight disparity doesn't seem to be much of an issue, and neither is experience by the looks of things, since Pedro, for his first fight, after training for only 3 months, fought a Thai with over 60 fights, and there were several wildly mismatched fights throughout the night. Makes a good show for the spectators, but it's not much fun for the fighters...

Also, they don't seem to care nearly as much about who actually wins - the ref seems to decide, just holds the winner's hand up and that's that - no big fuss like at home, with build ups, and 3 judges, and trophies for the loser, or even the winner. Mind you, they do all get paid. About 30 quid.

But it was a good atmosphere, and interesting, and when Dave fights on Monday I'll take my camera along and get some good pictures for the sharing thereof, have no fear.

Now it's the late hour of 8pm, and time to go home, eat a pear and read my book until I fall asleep, ready for training in 12 hours time.

Take it easy, speak to you soon

Aarayan x

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Sawatdee Ka!

Hey guys,

just a quick update to let you know that I've arrived safe and sound in the land of smiles, I'm set up with a place to stay, and I've started training at the gym. I've not got time just now to upload any photos, and to be fair I don't have many yet - I've mostly been sleeping and training today and yesterday, so I've only got pictures of my room.

The journey here was pretty epic, and I'm glad I'm only going to have to do that once more - it took a full 27 hours from waking up on Monday to arriving in Chiang Mai, and I didn't sleep for any of it. On the plus side, Qatar airline who I flew with from Gatwick to Doha and Doha to Bangkok do a decent range of fims and you can pick what you want to watch. I just hope they've changed them by the time I head back since I watched just about all of them.

So I arrived in Chiang Mai and got a taxi to the gym where I was met by Noom, who showed me a guest house just opposite, I got unpacked, had a shower and had a wee nap for an hour before heading out to training for the evening.

It's completely different from the way we do things at home, obviously- you start out with a run which is supposed to be about 5k, but I only did 1 lap yesterday, so about 1.5k, since I was knackered. Then you go with one of the trainers in the ring for a few rounds of doublepads, which is thoroughly knackered but really improves your technique no end. Mind you I'll have to stop doing half of it when I get home since some of it's wildly different from the way we do things, but anyway. Then either shadowboxing or bagwork, and back in the ring for grappling and technique work. Technique is bloody hard, becuase they're asking you to body kick their hands without pads, so you can't go hard, but they want me to relax - I find it very hard to relax when I'm kicking a Thai stranger and trying to be gentle about it.... Then it's situps in the ring and you're all done. If you're me, at some point someone will also weigh you and then laugh/look disturbed/tell you you have to weigh 55kilos (What?! Lose 10k in 3 weeks?!) - we'll just have to see about that, I'm only human.
So, All that takes about 2.5 or 3 hours and then you go an eat something from one of the many little outdoor restaurants. There's one near where I'm staying and I just go there because the food is amazing, and the nice man understands I don't speak Thai and just cooks me something different every day.

Today's training was mental - it was really quiet so one of the trainers just took my in the ring for literally about 2 hours - one on one training: exhausting but fantastic.

This evening Dave of Hammerhead Gym very kindly came and picked me up on his moped and took me for a ride into town to have a look around the night market and change my traveller's cheques. The Thai's are insane when it comes to driving - think "traffic lights are guides, not rules", marry this with a lack of speed limits and you've got some fun conditions. I'm definitely going to have to bring home some nice gifts from the market (once I learn how to barter - Paul knows how badly I suck at this), lots of pretty, touristy tat :)

Anyway, it's been a very long day, and it's time to go to sleep, so I'll bid you adieu and I'll get some photos uploaded when I have some to show.

Fann dee

Aarayan x

Saturday, June 23, 2007

Here we go...

Hullo to those of you who I've just informed about my blog so you can see what I'm up to in Thailand! I'm very embarrassed to have written most of the crap I've written, so please don't mock me too mercilessly, or at least wait until I'm out of earshot.

And Mum? I'm sorry, but I do swear- a fair bit. Please forgive me.

So, it's now officially the day after tomorrow that I head off, and I'm well on my way towards being prepared - I have piles and piles of clothes on my study floor which I'm going to pack tomorrow, and carefully tick off the list I made earlier in the week so I don't forget anything vital. I've got my tickets, I've got my money and travellers cheques, I've got a whole bunch of stuff I'll never need but seems important now, I've got travel insurance, at a whopping £62 for 3 weeks cover. I rang up the company and said:

Me: I need comprehensive insurance. I'm going to Thailand to do Thai Kickboxing

Her: That's fine, you're covered for that with this package.

Right, but just so you know, I'm going to be training full time. I intend to be getting into a ring on a daily basis and potentially volunteering to get punched in the head. Am I still covered?


Yup, you're covered.

So you're saying that if I deliberately get smacked in the face, doing a martial art, and need hospital treatment you'll pay? And further more, if I accidentally mortally wound someone else, and *they* require hospital treatment, you'll cover their treatment *and* my legal costs, even though I was doing a martial art, on purpose, for fun?

Yup, pretty much, and if you die we pay out £5,000,000


....and you'll require *proof* of death, I suppose.....?


So, if I don't make it back from Thailand in one piece, don't mourn too much- I'll probably be "dead" on a beach somewhere on a tropical island. Either that or Paul will have bumped me off, he'll be on the beach, and I'll expect you to avenge me.

I'll update the blog and get pictures up for you regularly, here, so you can all reflect regularly on how much you hate me, and how you wish you were in Thailand instead, whilst looking at handy visual aids to really make the jealousy burn ;)

On second thoughts, I'm starting to think I shouldn't have told you about the insurance pay out.... not before I mocked you, anyway. Bugger.


Keep in touch, leave me comments, and I'll see you in three weeks!

Love,

Aarayan

Friday, June 22, 2007

Many Happy Returns

Tomorrow it is my birthday. I've forgotten quite a few times already over the past few days and gone "...huh?" when Paul mentions the party on Saturday. However, I'm not as dense as Paul who has accidentally convinced himself that it is he who is going on holiday on Monday, and is in for a very disappointing morning, silly billy.

I've never been a huge fan of birthdays, to be honest. Other people's are usually great fun: everybody gets a bit pissed, has a good time, the birthday boy or girl has a fab night and doesn't feel awkward or embarrassed at having gathered all their friends together for such a patently self-centred reason, because it's absolutely fair enough, and nobody considers it to be egotistical or presumptious - including me.

When it comes to my own birthdays, however, I've never quite got the hang of this, and always feel.....apologetic at having thrown myself a birthday party. Kind of like I've forced people to reveal their hand and throw their friendship cards down on the table. For this reason, I haven't actually had a birthday party since I was about 7.

This is very silly. I know this, and tomorrow evening I am going to not be such a paranoid idiot, and do the birthday thing, and a lovely time will be had by all. I will eat Jamaican food and not, even once, complain that I am fat. I will meet friends at the pub and not, even for a nano-second, look at their shoes instead of their faces to avoid seeing an imagined look of "When can I go home?".

Most importantly, I will get quite pissed, have a laugh, say some ridiculous things and will not, under any circumstances torture myself for weeks afterwards by constantly thinking "Oh, God! Why did I say [insert drunken comment here] - what a twat!".

This is my pledge as I enter my 25th year. It's a dramatic pledge, I know, and very out of character - check out the reaction of this chipmunk who I told earlier on today:





It's about bloody time I grew up.


At least a little bit. Happy birthday, me :)

Monday, June 18, 2007

The end of an era...

Thank Fuck.

Ding Dong, Moray House is dead! I've finally finished the course after a mind-bogglingly awful 9 months, and I am most, most pleased. (I passed, by the way)

My final placement went very well, thank you, the school was lovely, the kids were lovely, the teacher was.....very helpful... and the management were friendly, competent and approachable- what more can you ask? Obviously, what with the fight training and the ridiculous work-load for uni, and teaching full time as well I was mostly made out of stress, and it's nothing short of a miracle that I still have a husband in tow (bless his little, antibacterial cotton socks which my Gran gave him for Christmas. Two years in a row. Insulting, much?).

I developed a habit of crying at entirely random moments in the evening, throwing childish tantrums about ridiculous things, like having to go to the shop to buy dinner because Paul had forgotten ("It's just not bloody fair - why is life so shite?!"), and becoming hysterical at movies which should technically be, if not funny, not actually psychologically scarring...

We watched "Click", that Adam Sandler movie about a guy that gets a Universal Remote and, guess what, it remote controls....THE UNIVERSE! Surely a recipe for comedy japes and misunderstandings, but in a calm, controlled, non-perilous way. And it was, unless you're quite nicely teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown, in which case the whole moral of the story about a guy who wishes his life away a died, alone, unfulfilled and regretful (and fat) in the rain is just a bit....too close to the bone. So I had a proper, wailing, uncontrolled crying fit for about half an hour, emitting strange snorts, squeaks and mangles "I don't want to die!"s so that in the end I was laughing as much as crying and laughing at the crying and crying at the laughing in a horrible, snotty cycle of stupidness. Paul, however, thought it was hilarious, which is pretty handy.

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that the placement went as well as could be expected, my final presentation went quite a bit less well than could be expected, (doing me out of an Distinction which I wasn't really bothered about but felt like I ought to try for) and the fight didn't happen at all.

Which I was naturally not too pleased about, in light of the whole working-myself-into-the-ground thing I mentioned above, but sadly that's just the way it goes sometimes. Remember I said there were many reasons not to get overexcited about a fight, because at any moment it just might not happen... well the most common reason happened, and she pulled out at the last minute. But, thankfully, she pulled out for a reason which at least makes people go ".....huh?!" when I tell them. She became "unfocussed" (just all of a sudden, apparently...) and decided to elope to the States with her girlfriend. Plausible *and* fun! I acted like a mardy cow for the day, had a shitty time and, showing my stylish nature, encouraged everyone to join me in my lovely pit of self-pity - nice.

However, there will (presumably) be other fights, and I will certainly get pulled out on again many more times, and I'll just have to get better at dealing with it, because that's the way it works sometimes. With a bit of luck I might get my first fight in Thailand, which will certainly be an experience (don't, for God's sake, tell my travel insurance people...)

So that's the next big thing - one week from today I will be merrily winging my way to Thailand, and by "merrily winging my way" I do of course mean that I will be terrified, self-doubting, and constantly checking that I have my passport, I'm on the right flight, and I am actually who I think I am - I usually am, but it's prudent to check from time to time.

One week and counting guys - yipes!

Saturday, April 28, 2007

Back to School

I started my final placement recently, so for the next 5 weeks I'll mostly be pretending to be a teacher, and trying to look like I know what I'm doing. (This is a running theme in my life - I pretend this alot. Alot alot.)

During this year at uni I've been to several schools on placement - the Headteacher (HT) at this most recent school described my experiences as ranging "from the sublime to the ridiculous", and I'm pretty much with her on that. I've taught in a very poor area, a very nice area and somewhere in between, and seen various ranges of resources, types of social and economic backgrounds and issues which go along with them.

This new school is, however, by far the "best". It has a flawless HMIe report, Interactive Whiteboards (IWBs) up the wazoo, a body of pupils entirely made up of middle-class, pretty well-behaved children, a young, energetic, innovative staff, and a brand new school building choc-a-bloc with brilliant ideas and resources for the kids.

Obviously I can't tell you which school I'm at, any more than I can tell you any of the other schools I've been to - for starters I might decide I want to say something rude about one of the children, and then where would I be? Up Shit Creek with no paddle, that's where... (And obviously all that confidentiality stuff too, etc etc, yadda yadda).

So, I'm feeling very lucky, but don't think for a second that this means everything will be fine and dandy: all children have issues, all jobs have downsides: one school is much like another in that sense, it's just a question of how much easier or harder the situation is made by external factors like money, colleagues and parents.

Placement proper begins on Monday, which is also when the teaching (blagging)and working (panicking) really begins, and I am looking forward to it in a way. It's nice to be in the classroom again, and not at bloody, bloody uni (sorry, I literally can't help it - I've developed Moray House related Tourettes Syndrome), and the kids are lovely, as is the teacher I'm working with, so I'll be sure to share all the good stories I'll inevitably collect over the next five weeks...

...'Cos kids just say the funniest things, don't they? Funny, cute things? You know, all the funny, cute, not at all terrifying and inappropriate things 11 years olds say, ask, repeat?...

Watch this space.

Curse of the Golden Flower

You have to hand it to Chow Yun Fat: he deserves a Nobel prize, or a humanitarian award, or maybe one of those awards you get on ITV, presented by the likes of Carole Vordeman, for being a very special, heartwarmingly helping and kind person, for the fact that his movie has a cast which consists of EVERYONE IN CHINA. That is employment on a massive scale - I can only assume that that's all of China's problems sorted now, everyone is famous, rich and in Hollywood...

Anyway, the film. Well, we went to see it on a Friday night, at 9.00, and there were a total of 7 people in the screening. This could be for one of two reasons, either:

A) Everyone is out having fun, getting drunk, or watching it at another, more central cinema

B) Everyone who has already seen the film killed themselves as soon as it ended or before, thereby making it impossible for them to recommend it to anyone else. (In this sense, you could describe the film like a particularly virulent disease which succeeds in wiping out an entire species, and then itself.)

I'm plumping for B) on this one. It just seems more plausible.

I don't want to spoil it for you, so I wont give you all the twists and turns, but the upshot is this: everybody dies or goes stark raving bonkers.

EVERYbody.

And since the population of China is 1,313,973,713, and they're all in the film, this takes quite some time, not to mention an inordinate quanitity of fake blood. Do not be fooled, however, by a death-count which would put Pol Pot to shame, nor by the trailers which show many interesting Ninjas leaping about the place excited/ingly. No, no, you fools. Yes, there are Ninja types, and a ginormous battle, but these scenes are the exceptions to the rule of slowness which controls the rest of the film.

The plot is good though - it is essentially a Greek tragedy in Chinese (in a number of ways) but I was somewhat let down by the woeful lack of fancy-ass Wing Chun, and deeply put out by many of the highly irritating details of the film, like why the Emperor (who appears to be the richest person in the world) would actually pay people to wander round his huge palace banging gongs on-the-hour-every-hour, shouting stuff like "Heaven and Earth collide, giant wombats fall from space - Now is the hour of the terrapin!" or words to that effect. Just buy a clock....showy bastard.

The film has its good points - the costumes, the sets (comedy factor if nothing else -what is the point in see-through bamboo doors?), the acting, the plot and, if nothing else, the sheer scale of it.

Nevertheless, if you recommend it to a loved one and they commit suicide soon after, well, its probably going to be your fault. That's all I'm saying....

Think about it.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Holy Mother of God

Ok, ok: it was *my* idea. I *asked* to be allowed to do it - I even pestered to be allowed to do it. I know this. However, now that I am definitely on for my fight at the end of May I am, how shall I say...shitting bricks. On Sunday 27th May, I will be having my first ever Muay Thai fight, down in Manchester at this 'ere show:



(I personally think each and every one of you who reads this should come and shout me on. Or form a protective barrier around me so I can run away in safety...)

It'll be a C-class fight - the lowest of the low, apart from amateur fights where they wear padding - and it'll consist of three rounds, each lasting two minutes (C Class 3x2, in case you ever see that written down and wonder what the hell it means). I'll be wearing probably 10oz boxing gloves, and a mouth guard for protection and that's all. Well, obviously I'll be wearing Thai shorts and a sports bra, otherwise it's just porn, but you get my drift.

So now comes the Rocky-style training montage, because I've got 4 weeks, I've been out of training for 3 weeks, my fitness is down, my weight is up and I'm a big, fat chicken... Running and weight loss = things I hate to do, but I'll be doing ALOT of this over the coming month, and just you wait, I might even post some technicolour pictures of my bruises. But only if you're very, very good.....

In addition to this, anyone who is in Edinburgh and who wishes to be my friend MUST come to this show - it is compulsory and will count towards your final grade in my Friendship exam:



Do it!

Friday, April 20, 2007

The Life of a Cyclist

I have always had a bike, and until recently I used it just for getting to and from training for a wee bit of extra exercise, but after getting a new one a couple of weeks ago I've taken to cycling everywhere...EVERYWHERE. Since Tuesday evening I have cycled......wait for it......62 miles, and I must say I'm *rather* proud of myself :)

The downside of cycling so much in so short a space of time (aside, of course from the permanent bike-seat impression which has been left in my butt, and the windscreen effect of bugs splattered all over my face) is that it's all too easy to begin to take liberties with fate, and get a teensy weensy bit over-confident.

For example, I am normally not the kind of person who relishes confrontation, but cycling 20 miles in one day will erode your patience for spotty-faced, tiny-dicked, wimpy little men who drive sporty-looking-but-cheap-and-cheerful red sportscars.

So, when the little snot-stain pulled out of a juntion without so much as glancing left, nearly tranforming me, magically, from the wonderfully unique human I am into so much road-kill (I can see the headline now: Young Newlywed Primary Teacher Killed in Tragic Accident by Waste of Space) , I was more than happy to catch up with him at the next set of traffic lights and give him my best Primary Teacher "you should be ashamed" row. Ok, I didn't say that, but I did demand an apology, and would happily have dragged him out of his car and spanked him in front of a crowd, forcing him to repeat, with every stroke, "I", "Will not", "Be such", "A dick".

However, this is apparently forbidden by law, both inside the classroom and out (who knew?), so I didn't. And that's the only reason why not.

So, as you see, cycling lots: good for the thighs, bad for the soul ;)

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

The Final Countdown

I have an essay due on Tuesday - 3000 words on Curriculum, Teaching and Assessment, theory and practice of Environmental Studies and Expressive Arts. Yep, it's pretty boring. And, as usual, I'm procrastinating like nothing on earth, so it is for this reason that I set the following challenge:

I want to create an Ultimate Cheesy Training Soundtrack, filled with the sorts of tracks which you'd expect to accompany a Rocky training montage. So far I've got:

Eye of the Tiger - Survivor
The Final Countdown - Europe
Hero - Bonny Tyler
Gold - Spandau Ballet
Going the Distance - Rocky Theme Tune

So, come on guys - rise to the challenge.....Your country needs you!

Sarah xx

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Normal(ish) Service Resumed


Finally, after a whole lifetime-long 23 days away from training, I'm finally back at class! I'm suffused with a warm, glowey all-is-right-with-the-world sense of bliss.

This is in direct contrast to the presiding emotion of the last few days, which has been one of "AAAAARGGGGHHHHHH! BLARGYBLARGHYBLARGHHHHHHH!!!!"

It's not something I have any place writing about, except to say I think things are looking up and I think I probably have the best friends in the whole world and I am very, very lucky.

You guys rock

Monday, April 02, 2007

Cellulitis? Just the beginning....

Sounds ominous, doesn't it? Well, it may not be quite horror movie standard, but things did get worse..... much worse.....a bit worse, at any rate.

My cellulitis improved with the ingestion of FUCKLOADS of antibiotics (2 kinds, 4 times a day), but I was left with a very angry, purple, hot lump right where the very first sign of the infection had a appeared. Rather than get, say *smaller*, the lump got bigger, and hotter and angrier and I finally realised, with the help of the internet, that it was a big abscess and determined to take myself to the doctor on Tuesday and go "Look! It's an abscess! Fix it!". This I did, at 15.40 and was sent, posthaste to the hospital to have it drained.

I thought they would just make me wait for ages, then stick a syringe in it and make it go away, but i was wrong.

I was seen by a doctor at 17.00, had x-rays to check the infection hadn't gotten into the bone, and blood tests to check the infection hadn't gotten into my blood by 18.00, and was admitted to the orthopaedic ward by 19.30 to have surgery first thing the following morning, which I really wasn't expecting.

The orthopaedic ward is an interesting place to be, since it is largely populated by old women and men waiting to have hip-replacements, and I was easily the youngest patient by a margin of about 50 years. I was in a room with 3 little old ladies: one was lovely, sparkly and articulate (and referred to the other patients as "old women" despite the fact they were her age), one was fast asleep for the first day, but after her surgery the following day cried almost non-stop, and the other was stark, raving bonkers - totally unaware of who she was, where she was and what was going on, and as such was utterly terrified and prone to screaming for long periods for no reason. As you can imagine, this was conducive to both rest *and* relaxation...

Anyhoo, the first night in the hospital was one of the longest of my life and I didn't sleep at all, mainly because I was a bit scared of what they might find when they opened up my leg the following day. There's something very isolating about being awake in a hospital at 3am or 4am, with the nurses chatting, or marching around and you with nothing to do but worry or listen to Regina Spektor on your headphones. I gave up pretending to sleep about 5am and got up for a shower and watched the Clangers on the cool wee personal TV things by each bed.

About 8am a woman I now know to be an anaesthesiologist appeared and asked some questions about allergies and whether I "fancied a spinal" as opposed to a general anaesthetic, but I had a general in the end. Sadly, when the surgeon rocked up with his entourage shortly after this I was utterly brain-dead from not sleeping and couldn't understand his Irish accent, which earned me a very stony glare, and I reckon I'm lucky I still have my leg.

They took me to theatres about 9am, and got me all prepped including giving me pain killers through my veins and it really hurt and kind of made me panic because I was woozy and it was all really scary and nasty, but after that I don't remember anything until I woke up after surgery (which only took half an hour). I was seemingly a bit cold after the operation so I had a cool blanket thing full of hot air, and also lots of morphine (which was lovely), spent a bit of time trying to talk to the nurse and failing miserably because I was too drugged up, and then spent the rest of the day sleeping, really.

After that it's mostly sleeping, pain killers, waking up for hospital food, more painkillers and bucket-loads of IV antibiotics and blood pressure and temperature monitoring, and aside from a bit of low BP dodginess all went very smoothly and I got out on Thursday in time for getting Lewis on Friday, which I'll post about a bit later.

I'm on the mend and looking forward to getting home and weighing myself and finding out the true damage I've inflicted on myself over the last week (feeling *very* heavy*!) and having abit of fun :)

Sunday, March 25, 2007

The 300

Xerxes: what a tool. My credentials as a historian may not be quite as respectable as David Starkey's (also a tool), but I still feel justified in making that bald, unsupported and general statement. I mean really, if you've got anywhere between 500,000 and 2,000,000 soldiers, why would you send them against 300 soldiers in relatively small waves, with plenty of time in between for the opposition to clean up, have an apple and take a wee snooze? No, you'd send them *all at once* and then all they'd have to do is squash the Spartans.

Anyway, I'm glad Xerxes was a tool, because the Spartans rocked, and deserved to take out around 50,000 Persian soldiers in 2 days with only 300 soldiers with spears, swords and shields - wooo! Gooooooooooo Spartans!

The film itself was fantastic - beautiful cinematography and easily identifiable as having been inspired by a graphic novel. At first I wasn't sure whether I'd enjoy it, as it did seem like it was going to be a little bit OTT, but I was wrong, very wrong. Any qualms I had were squashed when the 300 soldiers appeared over the brow of a hill, wearing nothing more than a pair of pants, boots and a cloak each - I felt like Columbus, laying eyes upon a beautiful New World for the first time...I felt like applauding. Six-packs like those take dedication - 300 beautiful six-packs, that's 1800 abdominal muscles, carved and cut to perfection...

Anyway, that is obviously not what the film is about (shame ;p). Don't be fooled by the monsters in Xerxes's army - the descriptions were taken from actual descriptions of the battle, the monsters aren't added for fun. However, this doesn't mean that the rest of the information about the battle is unreliable - historians and archeologists have uncovered the remains from the battle and proved that there were indeed only around 300 spartan soldiers, and anything from 500,000 Persians upwards, so it is an epic story.

It was beautiful to look at, enjoyable to watch and left me with a lasting interest in the Spartans and the battle which inspired the film. I've even got a book and everything (my dad would be so proud), which Paul got me after the following conversation:

Paul: I'm in Waterstones trying to get you that book about the Spartans, there's one here about the Persians though, the same battle.
Me: But I don't like the Persians
Paul:......well....it's the same battle though, it ends the same
Me:But....Xerxes was a tool
Paul: Yes. Xerxes was a tool. He loses in this book as well, though.
Me: Well.....so long as he loses, I guess that's ok
Paul: Yeah. He loses.
Me: Cos he was a tool.
Paul: Yes, honey, he was a tool. Shhhhhhhh.........

Go watch the film. Because Xerxes was a tool :)

Monday, March 19, 2007

Cellulitis: as icky as it sounds

Soooooo, on Friday morning I woke up at 6am, and went....."Owwww - my leg hurts", but there wasn't anything to see, so I took some Ibuprofen and zonked out again until noon. At noon, I woke up and went "Shit! I was supposed to meet Kal to try out Buddhist meditation!" (which seemingly wasn't that much of a loss for me) , closely followed by "owwwww, my leg hurts still". This time, there was a little something to see - just a little red welt about the size of 2 thumbs together, but very hot and very sore.

Anyway, it was an interesting day: I went to meet Kal and we looked around the Pixar exhibition, which was excellent. Go there, find the xoetrope, which is a fabulous spinning thing (which is waaaaaay too complicated for me to understand, let alone explain) and watch it at least twice, preferably three times - twice to go "WOW! How the hell.....?" and once to look at the expressions on the faces of everyone else as they go "Wooooooaah! How the hell......?", which is good fun :)

We had yummy sandwiches, naughty flapjacks, saw the exhibition, and then went back to Kal's for a bit. By this time, I felt officially like crap - I was thinking "oh, lord, what luck: I've probably got DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) and will die, *and* I've got the flu. Harsh. So we went to Kal's: he played videogames, I watched Peepshow and drank vast quanities of tea, occasionally going "Owwww", *goan*, *whimper* and generally was quite pathetic. I didn't want to go home, because Paul, the husband, was supposed to be away for the weekend, and fearing a gruesome death or, worse, having no-one to make me tea, I was not keen to go anywhere, but all good things must come to an end, so I headed home about 6pm. Fortunately for me, Paul wasn't able to go away, which just worked out dandy in the end, but did kind of involve him being defrauded out of £100, so I am *pretty* selfish for thinking that's good (don't worry, he got it back - I'll tell you about it another time). As the evening wore on, my shin got bigger...and bigger..... and bigger and began stabbing me and throbbing, so about 9.15pm I gave in and rang NHS24 for advice. They were, eventually, and against all the odds, very helpful and got me an appointment within 45 minutes at the out of hours, drop-in centre at the hospital... but only after *this* conversation:

Me: Hi, yeah, my shin is really sore and swollen - very angry and painful
Nurse: Ok, has anything happened (etc etc, fill this bit in yourself)
Me: No, I just woke up this morning and it was sore, and it's just been getting worse all day
Nurse: Right, does your foot hurt all the time, or just when you move it?
Me: Well, it's my shin that hurts, but yes it hurts more when I move in general
Nurse: Ok, so the foot has been sore since 6, and is just getting more swollen?
Me: No.... no, my *shin* is swollen and sore, sore at 6am, now very swollen and red and sore
Nurse: So it's not your foot?
Me: No. It has nothing to do with my foot. It's my shin.....
... and so on and so on, until the message sunk in.

So, I jumped in a taxi (for jumped read; limped, was half carried, stumbled and lurched, with many exclamations of pain and distress) and was at the hosital for 10.20, with my appointment due in 10 minutes. But.... they saw me straight away, I saw a lovely, friendly "practitioner" (what does this mean?) who diagnosed cellulitis straight away, gave me useful information and free medication and sent me on my way. We were back in the taxi by 10.30 and on our way home, with the advice that should the swelling progress above the line on my leg (which the practitioner drew in biro) or if my fever got worse, my glands were to swell, or I began vomiting, then it was straight back to hospital for me for IV antibiotics.

So long LONG story short, Saturday was awful. I felt like crap, was running a sweaty, smelly temperature, looked like a zombie, couldn't stand or walk alone, had to be taken to the loo by paul, didn't want to eat, and was regularly in so much pain that I was crying like a wee girl. Sucks. To. Be. Me. I wanted to go to hospital, except that the thought of trying to get dressed, get downstairs, get bumped around in a taxi and actually try to *tell* someone what was wrong was just not on, so I stayed home, and I'm glad, because by Sunday things were much improved. I could hold a conversation, watch telly, read and, get this... go to the loo alone! How much do I rock!

Today finds me still largely incapacitated - I can hobble about without Paul (which is good since he's at work!), I've eaten, and my temperature is much more regular, even though I have a nastily insipid cough that stops me from breathing deeply. My leg looks *revolting*, I wont bore you with the details, or even a close-up picture :p

But in spite of the ickyness and the pain and all the rest of it, there have been a few shiny, comedic moments:

The discovery that if I wear fluffy socks Paul can push me around the house like a trolly instead of having to carry me, and it is *damned* hard to steer with only one foot on the ground.

The classic moment last night when Paul, after a long day of helpfulness, went to fetch my laptop so I could email uni, and dropped the battery pack for the laptop directly on my sore shin, resulting in a few minutes of near-hysterical tears of pain and shock, closely followed by a few minutes of actually hysterical tears of laughter as he desperately apologised. Bless him :)

So, here's hoping that soon, very soon, I will be able to get the FUCK off this sofa and do something. Anything!