I know nothing

For some time now it has been a semi-goal in my life to complete a TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) qualification.  I know I said I would never study again after my Masters, but with the depression and endless nothingness of unemployment started getting to me, it was something to aim for, and something to do to occupy my days, not to mention an extra string to my bow... not like I need to many more!

It would take me 6 months to complete, as I was doing it Part-Time and for the first time online.  Its not been done like that before.  I would start in January and end in June, with 4 assessments, and a number of Teaching Practice (TP) days at the college.
I'd looked into it, and the City of Bristol College was the nearest location for the course, so I duly applied.

After a little bit of uncertainty over whether they had received my application, on Friday I made the 2 hour trip by train to Bristol to take part in a sort of Interview day.

That was an adventure in itself. The train from Hereford to Newport (South Wales) was a standard Arriva Trains Wales 3 carriage job, with plenty of seats.  Reasonably modern.  A 15 minute wait at Newport, mixed with scoffing some lunch went quickly.  The First Great Western train that arrived for Bristol was more like some rickety old tram from a bygone age.  It was so small (2 carriages) and so crammed that I was stood next to the rattling doors, holding on to them for grim death, as the outside sped past me.

Upon reaching Bristol a Taxi cab took 25 minutes to get me to the appropriate campus, which turned out to be not the most accessible, and not in the nicest of areas.

I navigated to the room alright in the end, and found a group of 8 others, mainly all over 50 waiting for the session to begin.  I don't know why, but I was surprised to see so many older people.  I just naturally assumed that TEFL was for younger people all wanting to travel and teach.  It appears I was wrong.

A 10 - 15 minute chat later and we were flung into an in-class task, making corrections to a letter, sentences, and writing our own pieces.  I assume this was all part of the application process.  We then had several discussions and chats about things, about language, about teaching... where I made a discovery that actually shocked me.  I know nothing about the English language.

Yes, I can speak it, and quite well, if I do say so myself.  However, I have no clue about what words are verbs, nouns and adjectives... I don't really care.  The other students all seemed to know what they were talking about and were even using other terms like "identifier" and "handle" to describe certain word types.

The straw that broke the camels back for me was when we were discussing the fact that 'Special Verbs' like Want and Understand are misused so much... like when people put an "ing" on the end.  This is apparently a major crime.

That's right: "Wanting" and "Understanding" are NOT words.  They are not officially proper English!  Personally, I'm sure I've seen them in the dictionary.  Anyway, I was gobsmacked.  It then confirmed to me one of the several reasons why I should progress no further:

1. The course is expensive and I cannot afford it.  I owe my parents far too much already.
2. I don't have the time to devote to study or TP.
3. The campus is a bitch to get to.  The taxi ride either way was £12 alone!
4. It isn't (and never was) something I had set my heart on.  It was just an option.

Getting back to Hereford was just as bad as getting to Bristol, except that this time I was travelling in the rush hour.  I have never known trains to be so badly crowded.  I was (once again) packed in like a sardine, along with many others who I'm sure did not appreciate me breathing down their neck.  Not like they had much choice.

I have since decided (as mentioned above) not to continue with my pursuance of this TEFL course.  I have a job now.  I will be working 40 hours a week.  And it's not like I need to be able to teach.  Besides, I like using "wanting" and "understanding"!

It's a job...

In a previous post I remonstrated about the misplaced ambition that I believe many young people suffer from in the United Kingdom today.  I talked about people living in an unrealistic world, where they think they will become rich and famous overnight, or that they will automatically (without effort) become successful and wealthy.

This blog will add to that on a personal level.

I now have a job.  I'm a Branch Manager of a retail finance store in Hereford, dealing with lots of money on a daily basis, managing a team of people, and responsible for the building in which we all work.  The business is my responsibility, with support from higher managers and the greater national business network.
Sounds great huh?  Yes, because I made it sound great.

I am the Branch Manager, that is my job title, but I have 1 member of staff and we work for the Cheque Centre, an American spin-off business providing cash by various means to low paid or unemployed people.  The shop is 20ft by 20ft.  So, not really that great.

My point is, as I pointed out in the previous blog I mentioned above, that we are driven to think that we should aspire to the top and that we will achieve great things.  I include myself amongst those who believed this kind of thing.  I knew I would have to put in hard work, but I just imagined it would be a bit more... impressive.

Am I guilty of being big headed?  Did I want to show off and make others see that I had a better, more aspirational job than they did?  Did I / do I think that I deserve better than this?  Did I think that my rise to the top would be quicker? Possibly.

How do I feel about it?  Indifferent at the moment.  When I get into it and have been doing it for some time, perhaps my feelings will change.

I realise now that my previous job in Student Recruitment, which I thought at the time was the bees knees of jobs.  The best thing I could be doing.  Impressive, enjoyable and fulfilling (at least to me), was a unique and lucky opportunity, something that will never come around again.

What the last 6+ months have taught me about work is:

• It's a paid job.  I will now have money, and can engage in a lifestyle of sorts (One that my 40+ hours a week will allow)
• I am fortunate.  Don't complain.
• I shall NEVER complain about having too much to do EVER again.  Unemployment is so boring and mind numbing, I cannot understand anyone who would want more than a week or two's time off all at once.
• Life isn't as easy as we think.  Reality bites at some point.
• I have been living in a very thick bubble, possibly for years.  Now it has finally burst and I am faced with that reality, and no cushioning.  I have moved down a peg or two.

Please feel free to add any further points to this, as my one sided view of myself (I have come to realise) is not just bias, but sometimes totally out of touch.


To those of you who have been supportive and understanding of me and my weirdness in recent months; my thanks and appreciation.  I promise of some reward for the loyalty and friendship rendered.
For those who will never understand me; "meh".

I have a dream...

But it isn't a fantasy!  It can be a reality.  And I fully intend to see it through to its logical conclusion.

The dream is to live my life (once my real life begins) at the cutting edge of technology, with the latest in everything that is designed to make human life easier, better for the environment and more enjoyable.

How do I plan to achieve this?  Simple, most of the technologies already exist.  All that is needed is will power and imagination (and money!)

I won't go too in-depth with examples now, but here are a few:

• An iPhone, iPad and a decent computer will, if used properly with all the relevant Apps and websites, remove all need for paper from my life.  I can read newspapers, make lists, receive utility bills, and communicate with others all through these 3 devices.
• Solar panels installed on the roof can heat water, and reduce electricity bills by a 1/3.  Its cleaner and better for the environment too!  Other technologies exist for recycling shower and sink water to flush toilets, reduce heat escaping with extra insulation, glass that can be turned on and off, etc!
• I generally walk everywhere or take public transport anyway.  Continuing to do this wherever I go will save carbon from being pumped into the atmosphere*.
• I can read books on my iPad with 3 different Apps (Kindle, Google Books, iBooks) therefore reducing the need for printing of those books in the first place.
• I can shop for food as I am living my life, in my house, at work, and as I travel using an iPhone App, and then have it delivered when I am at home, creating more time for social activities with friends and family.

I shall not make a commitment now to carry out all of these ideas to their fullest potential as my life situation may not allow it in future.  The principle is there however, as are the ideas and the will.  That combination can lead to being a powerful set of outcomes.

For example; Imagine if everyone on earth shared the same ability to do what I have listed above and all the rest that still resides in my head?  Wouldn't we live in a much better world...

* I have some interesting views on the environment, climate change and what not, which I shall deal with in another blog soon.

Border, what Border?

With all the fuss over the relaxation of the UK Border Agency checking during the summer, I thought I would share some home truths about the United Kingdom border.  There isn't one!

The border with Ireland is one of the most open and unchecked in the world.

We have an undefended coastline.  Thousands of open miles of coastline, in fact, that anyone can sail into and out of on any vessel, and nobody will bat an eyelid.

How do I know?  My dad and a family friend used to sail to France and back during our summer holidays out of a small harbour on the south coast of England.  They left at about 5am on a small yacht and spent most of the day travelling across the Channel to various french ports on the Cherbourg peninsula.

After an overnight stop, loading up with wine, and a good hearty breakfast, they would return, usually coming into port in the evening / nighttime.

No-one other than our families ever knew where they were going and their timetable.  The small harbour to which I refer has no port authority, police or marine patrol of any kind.  The French marinas they used to tie up in hardly cared.

Someone now tell me that across the whole of the south coast that many hundreds, if not thousands of people are not coming in to the UK and disappearing all the time to try and find work / sponge off the state.

The UK Border Agency only acts at ports and airports for incoming aircraft and large ferries and cargo ships.  So whats all the fuss about?  We have an open border anyway!

If we want to have real border control then I suggest doing it the American way.  Arm the Coastguard as much as the Navy, intercept every vessel approaching the coast at least 3 miles out, track and trace all ships in the vicinity of UK waters, and pay hundreds of pounds more of taxes each year to ensure it happens.

Perhaps not, eh?

The Trouble with Europe

As a Brit, I like to think that I have an "outsiders" view of Europe.  I don't feel we are part of the club, even though we pay into it, obey its laws, and go to all of its summits as an equal (if not big ass) player.

But still, we aren't a part of it.  We don't fly their flag, we are still obsessed with our borders, and those crossing it, even from Europe, and we are most certainly not "pro-€uro!"

The trouble with Europe was, and still is, that there is no plan.  There never was!  Britain signed up to (and by Britain, I mean the people in a referendum) a Trade Agreement.  We signed up to what should be the European Free Trade Area.  So why do we now pay billions for a pan-continental government, parliament, leaders council and various other institutions?

This is what happens when aspirations and big ideas cloud our judgement.  Emerging from the war, and looking over the Atlantic, it is my belief that to prevent another war, and to promote growth, European leaders thought "lets do it like America".

Bringing everyone together under one banner, one governmental system, and one currency.  Sounds great, and in theory it works.  In reality, as with most things, it doesn't.  Surprise, surprise!

Greece should never have been allowed to join the Euro.  Every country should have a get out clause, which can be implemented without affecting any other member state.  It's called planning.  Governments should pay attention to this word, as it does help when doing the kind of work they do.

As ever, my opinions only go as far as my back door, but it is my opinion that the European Union should not have grown up the way it did.  Free Trade, co-operation on defence, security, and some other things? Yes, of course, in fact I would argue those are imperative for each country in Europe to exist, but to have  Pan-continental governance and a single currency? Big mistake.

Some one says that Russia and Turkey should become part of the Union.  I think that someone needs to have a geography lesson.

Shout at me if I'm wrong, but it seems that nobody in Brussels has a clue where this is going, or whats going to happen next.  If they had planned for it, and had an end point to aim for, perhaps we would be in a much better place, than where we are now?

The Story of Mr G

Early in 2005 I met a young gay man totally by accident whilst waiting for a friend at Foregate Street Station.  That young man was 15 and his name is Grant.  I was 23 at the time.  At the time it was an inconsequential meeting, just 2 people in the street talking to a mutual friend.

Later that week he added me on MySpace with the message something like “Hello Mr man from Heerreeeefffooooorrrddddd!!”  I accepted the add.  Why wouldn’t I?

We spoke several times before adding on MSN (Facebook hadn’t really taken off in the UK then!) and continued to have rather one-sided conversations for a while. He didn’t talk much.  It was constantly me asking questions and leading the chatter.

His first boyfriend who he split up with when I had got to know him, became a bit of a weirdo, and oddly Grant asked me to help him deal with the guy.  I did my bit to help!  I’m a nice chap like that.

I got to know Grant through my first year @ Uni as my social life expanded, so did his.  We never made it out on a night out together as he was underage, but through my questioning I grew to learn what was going on in his life, and what he was up to.  When Facebook came along in 2006 (my second year) then my knowledge of him and his existence grew again.

He was a typical young gay man (in my semi-stereotyped image): unafraid of who he was so therefore very “out”, slightly camp, very immature and inexperienced.  Very attractive and loveable also.  He has one of those faces that you are instantly drawn to.

Through the time I knew him in the 05 to 07 period he went through a lot... of boyfriends, as well as bad experiences.  His parents threw him out of home when he “came out”, one or two of his boyfriends were abusive, and many of his boyfriends cheated on him after just a few weeks or months.  However, he never grew to resent “men” as most gays do.   And even though he was “getting around a bit” he never seemed to be the one doing it on purpose, like everyone else.  He truly and genuinely was looking for a real relationship.

When he had nowhere to go, he came to mine for many hours in between sleeping on peoples floors and staying at the YMCA round the corner. (I was living in McIntyre Road between Sept and Nov 06).  Nothing ever happened between us, but he just used to sit there, in my room as I worked on my essays.  It was a bit weird really, but I think he just liked to be able to sit quietly without anyone getting at him.  I gave him hot drinks and food before he would go back out “onto the streets”.  He never wanted to stay.

Eventually he settled with a guy a few years older than him, but again the relationship only lasted 8 or 9 months.  They had even moved in together for most of that time, bought kittens, e.t.c.  During this period, I had not heard much from him.  He was happy and so was I.  But when it all went wrong he came to me for help...again!

I gave him the best advice I could, but I was living back at home again dealing with my own problems of coming out to not very understanding parents, and various digestive problems.

Life carried on for both of us.  Uni for me, and many more boyfriends for him.  By now I had come to realise that I was very attracted to Grant, and whether you can call it love or not, that’s what I felt it was.  I also felt rather helpless, watching him get with someone, be cheated on, and then getting into another doomed relationship.  Ad infinitum...

Time passed for many months, until January/February 2008 when I was sat having dinner with my best mate, at the time, Tom in Chesters in town.  He told me about a new guy that he was meeting.  “Oh right” says I thinking nothing about it.  “What’s his name?”... “Grant” was the reply.  Yes, same person.  My brain didn’t click at the time, but; my best mate + the guy I loved, but couldn’t have = together?  Bad arithmetic!

After dinner we went to the gay pub in town to meet Grant and they got close.  I left them to it mouthing “Behave” to Tom on the way out. They stayed.  By now Grant was living in some old dudes spare room, rent free (dodgy in itself) and I almost felt like I had to be watchful for him... even with my best mate!

I cried myself all the way back to my house (I was now in my 3^rd year and living in Happyland) and cried myself to sleep that night. Tom was not in my good books next day.  I ignored him for nearly 3 days and vented my anger on other people, until I finally realised I had to deal with it.

Tom and I had a chat about him dating Grant, and he said that I would have to say if I didn’t feel comfortable.  My view was that it was none of my business what went on between them, and that I would have to deal with it.

2 months later and Tom split with Grant a few days before Grants 18^th Birthday.  That decision is irrelevant, but the reasons for it are.  Tom had come to know Grant as a dull, unintelligent, immature, and worldly unwise young man.  I saw through all that.  I had now come to feel like a Big Brother figure.  Watching, waiting, caring, protecting, educating and explaining things when Grant didn’t understand. But Tom was adamant; he was no good!

I went to Grant’s 18^th Birthday party as I had promised.  Tom advised me against it.  It would be the first time that I would have gone out drinking with Grant – for obvious reasons.

The night went well until we got to Tramps.  It was a bitter cold night in March, and we were dressed in black shirts and pink ties.  About 4 or 5 people, girls and boys had turned up, and everyone was merry.  I requested Grants favourite song by Cascada from the DJ and he loved it!

Then he went outside for a cigarette.  I didn’t follow at first, but as I didn’t know his other friends I followed shortly after.  He was stood outside shivering to death, and upon seeing me, flung his arm around me to cuddle me.  Drunk, cold, and not entirely realising what was happening (as you do when you’ve been drinking) I went along with it.

Grant next proceeded to take my hand, interlock fingers and lead me to the cigarette machine.  Pulling me close in behind him as he bought more fags, I was swept up in emotion that I almost couldn’t speak or do anything.

Once that was done, my world shattered.  As quickly as he had started to get close to me, it was as if I didn’t exist.  Within 10 minutes of what I have just described I was running home in floods of tears, texting Tom: “I’m on my way home.   In a state.  Help”.  I had realised in those fleeting moments that I could and would never have what I wanted.  The emotion got the better of me.

Bless him, Tom met me down in Happyland at 3am and I cried my heart out on his shoulder for a good minute; stood in the street like a numpty.  It has been the only time that I have cried in public.

Tom took me back to mine and made me tea, played relevant songs on YouTube to make me feel suitably foolish and to quantify the situation.  (Tom and I had a media-centric friendship.  We constantly send videos, websites and web-pictures to one another to relate stories, compare real life to cultural media, like films and TV, e.t.c.)

At 4am, and after 2 cups of tea, and relating the nights events to Tom, I finally went to bed.  Next morning I removed all possible means of contact with Grant from my phone and social media.

From that day to this, I have never spoken to Grant, nor seen him in person.  Grant has tried to add me again since, but on Tom’s advice I haven’t done it.  It was his view was that it wouldn’t help if I started talking to him again. I agreed.

Every now and then I see his car, or a car like his, I hear his name, or either the name Grant, or his surname, of I hear a Cascada song, or get reminded of him some other way, or the whole damn story I have just told will flood into my mind, making my eyes water.  I still cry about it to this day.

It happens a lot.  Painful memories stick with you.

It also happens when I meet guys, and then find problems with then which mean we aren’t compatible, and loose the feeling of anticipation that I might be about to enter into a relationship.  Which is another long winded conversation...!

Tom used to explain it with: “You were destined to meet.  Just not yet.”

The way I explain it: “You never choose who you love.”