I think it might have been a revenge attack for all those times I’ve mentioned how much I dislike blackboards. I’m actually quite chuffed to have something as dramatic as that for the title. I Was Attacked by a Blackboard. I reckon that could be a horror film and, as bad as it sounds, it would still be better than Sharknado. Mind you, it wasn’t as quite dramatic in real life. The classrooms in my one school have two blackboards which can be moved to meet each other in the middle. Said blackboards also have rims at the bottom upon which the broken remains of chalk are often found. When writing on the one board, the second board leapt at me with its rim and inflicted a small mark. Despite loudly announcing, ‘ow!’ no one in the classroom made any comment. I suppose they didn’t understand me because I didn’t say ‘ow-uh’. Those language barriers… so difficult.
Now, this may come as a shocking revelation to some of you, but last week one of my teachers has informed me that I’m very sarcastic. Now, I’ve always been aware that I’m a bit sarcastic, but I don’t think I realised how utterly ingrained it was until last week.
We were talking about the American political system and the disadvantages of the Electoral College, when someone pointed out, correctly, that the Electoral College sometimes means that you can win the presidency without a majority of the popular vote. I agreed and tried to see if I could get an example out of them. The example I was going for was George Bush vs. Al Gore in 2000. In order to try and prompt this answer, I told the class that it was, “everyone’s favourite president, even in Germany he’s your favourite president”. This, of course, was sarcasm. I did this without thinking. Completely unconsciously. The pupils didn’t get the sarcasm and were apparently guessing presidents like Washington and Lincoln. Whoops.
Sabine, the teacher in question, didn’t mind of course. In fact, she actively encouraged my sarcasm as it will help the pupils realise just how sarcastic people are in the UK. Seriously, I don’t think we actually realise how much we overuse it and I don’t think the straight faces we use help either.
So yeah, what else have I done? The DLRG (being the wonderful people they are) let me look at all their boats on Saturday, though I won’t be uploading any pictures (my apologies). We went out for a drive in the minibus and were going to get in the boat for a bit of a gander on the Saar, but the rain kicked in at about one ‘o’ clock and just didn’t stop, so we ended up just driving around towing a boat. I imagine it looked quite odd. It was great fun and everyone I’ve met via the DLRG has been absolutely wonderful. I’d like to write more, but there’s not an awful lot more to report about it.
I mean, I met the DLRG’s beast of an emergency vehicle and I couldn’t help but compare it to a fire engine, though it’s more like an ambulance. It’s like the offspring of an ambulance and a fire engine. So that was impressive. Oh and one thing I forgot to mention is that when we were pottering about trying to find somewhere to unload and drive the boat around, we were pottering about four to six kilometres away from the Saarschleife. In case you don’t know what the Saarschleife is, it’s one of the Saarland’s most iconic sights. It’s on a lot of postcards. I still need to go and see it.
Ooh! And I’ve discovered a curryhouse or ‘Indian’ if you’re strange. (On an unrelated note, do you write curryhouse as one word or two? My gut says one word, but given that almost everyone I know who’s not from Birmingham says ‘Indian’, I suppose it’s an unnecessary question anyway isn’t it?) It’s called The Star of India and is a hop, skip and a jump away from the town hall. Now, because I’m used to the prices in the UK, it did seem a bit on the expensive side, but if you converted it back into pounds, it’d probably cost about the same. It was nice. It was nice to hang out with some of the other assistants and eat chicken curry. Curry’s always one of the things I miss when away from home (for better or for worse).
I’m sure there’s probably plenty of other things to talk about. I’m not sure how much of it would interest anyone and, to be honest, I’m in one of my housemate’s rooms watching GTA IV, so my attention is split between writing this and watching delicious ridiculous video game violence (and that was also sarcasm – video game violence can’t be delicious: you can’t eat it).
Oh! I got accepted by Lourdes. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it previously, but I’ve applied to be a volunteer at Lourdes. Now, originally, I just applied to the Service pilotes, but they could only give me three weeks. They did however, because they’re lovely, redirect me to Cité Saint-Pierre which is run by Secours Catholique. (Cité Saint-Pierre is a bit like a hostel but not, its basic aim is to allow everyone to visit Lourdes, regardless of their financial situation). They have kindly been able to give me three months. So three months in Lourdes! I have no idea what the internet access will be like so this could be fun! In all honesty though, it’s volunteering and helping people and I’m looking forward to it.
So yeah, that’s all that. Except for the fact that this blog post was supposed to be up last night. I’d nearly finished writing it when one of my housemates asked me to take a look at something. Turned out to be an application letter for Rockstar North. It’s not his application letter, but a friend’s and in case you’re wondering who Rockstar North is, it’s a video game developer in Edinburgh famous around the world for the creation of the GTA series. I took a look and I fiddled a bit with it and then it was midnight and I needed to go to bed, so you were supposed to see this blog post yesterday. I guess GTA is just determined to stop me writing blog entries.
So yeah, that’s it for this week. I’m off to Strasbourg this weekend to meet up with Alex, so there may be a blog post on that at some point, though having said that, I still haven’t written the entry for Paris or the rest of the Interrailing trip, so yeah, I wouldn’t bet on there being an entry on that for a while.