As predicted...

There is no backlash with the total lack of communication regarding the exam I wasn't told I was supposed to give. Because it is Spain.

My boss phoned me (at 8.50pm on a Friday evening) to give me some more crucial information and when I asked her about the exam, she said, "Oh yes, I did reply with some instructions but the email's broken so I expect you'll get it at some point."

"Oh right" I said, thinking about the time I'd wasted actually worrying about the situation, something the Spanish don't appear to do. I was also growing anxious as I'd placed the contents of a bottle of hair dye on my head 20 minutes before hand and had 10 minutes before I had to rinse it off. (I had tried to 'go lighter' earlier in the Spring by placing some highlights in my hair. The result was rather coppery and patchy. I've been waiting to cover up the accident with some good straight forward brown hair dye for a few weeks.)

"But perhaps I'd better explain over the phone to be on the safe side" She said cheerily. I didn't respond but glared at the clock and considered invoicing her for my time. It's Friday night!!

"OK," she continued, "They can do the written exam next week it doesn't matter (told you) but for the speaking exam you just need to...."

And she went on to describe what I was supposed to do, which rather irritatingly was exactly what I did do for last class. The whole thing is very relaxed. But she went on for some time and my hair was 'developing'.

She finally got off the phone at 9.05pm, I leapt into the shower and rinsed like there was no tomorrow. While I was in there, I heard the phone ringing again. Since when was I that popular? Upon emerging from the steamy bathroom, I listened to my voicemail, on which she'd left a completely pointless message that didn't concern me in the least. She is such a lovely woman. Just batty as a fruitcake.

So then there was the moment of truth. The hair.

Ladies and Gentlemen. I give you, Mortitia Adams.

Bugger!

Well, with that and the tan, maybe the locals will stop taking one look at me and speaking to me in English. I hate that!

Well, we may complain that Spain goes slowly and has strange quirks where bus drivers go the wrong way, postmen destroy letters because they can't be bothered to deliver them, English teachers get sacked for speaking English, people are killed/mamed in industrial accidents that could have been prevented so easily, companies drill holes in the street and don't cover them up, middle aged women die in their flats and are not reported missing for years, only to be found mummified by the sea air, and Universities test the students when it suits them without informing the students or the teachers. But the thing is, NO-ONE CARES.

So why should I?

As my good friend Steve said, as a teacher you end up losing all your principles as far as education is concerned. You can read his blog here www.madridteacher.blogspot.com. He grumbles more than me but not without good cause.

You just have to take Spain as it comes. I really had no comprehension of how different it would be to England, having visited several times even. But living here, you really get to see it is a completely different Universe. So many things are just the opposite of England. I'm very fond of the place and will return here regularly in my future, I expect.

However, my time here as a resident is drawing to a close. Indeed, my blogs will become less regular for I am about to take to the road again and can't be sure when I'll have internet access. However, with the journey I'm about to take I'll most definitely make up for the lack of quantity with quality.

I hope!