So, only three days of teaching left and then I'll be leaving on a jet plane! Back to the wonderfully inspiring piece of land that is the John Lennon airport in Liverpool. You must look closely to see the very subtle references to it's namesake. Beautifully crafted, and a fine tribute to the man. What better way to start a return to England!?

I know you're keen to know all about Polish Christmas traditions, so here are some facts!
Polish people celebrate Christmas on the 24th.
For Christmas dinner they eat 12 dishes but none of these can include meat.
They start their meal after the first star shines in the sky (let's hope it's not cloudy)
They leave an extra place at the table for any unexpected visitors and if someone knocks on the door they can't turn the person away.
They believe that Christmas is a celebration of the birth of Jesus, how crazy is that?!

So there is your easy to digest fact-file of Polish Christmas traditions. Amaze your friends with all your new-found knowledge!

You'll be happy to know (but not as happy as me) that my radiator has been fixed so gone are the fingerless gloves and scarf from my round-the-house attire. So even more reason for a celebration. As a tradition we here at the school have a Christmas Carol service in which people sing carols in all different languages. Consequently we have to teach our students some of the most traditional and well-known carols including Santa Clause is coming to Town and Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer.... Well, by this I mean, I stand in front of the class singing along to a CD while the kids look embarrassed and laugh at me. It's great, no really, it is.

Sombre thoughts have crossed my mind recently regarding my progress in grasping the Polish language. I wonder, will I ever advance past being able to ask someone their name? Will I ever really need to say 'I want to post this letter to Slovakia' again? Will I ever really understand the grammar? The answer to all these questions, friends, is no. But yet I persevere. It's an uphill struggle. Am I a glutton for punishment? Well, only time will tell.

Entertainment update. I am now a devoted listener of Anti Radio, the region's alternative music provider. Get this for a playlist, we've just had The Rolling Stones followed by Hard-Fi and then Marilyn Manson! No more need for the TV, see ya BBC World!

Ode to Winter

Winter is here; hello winter! Goodbye Autumn: season of mists and mellow fruitfulness! We will miss you... Don't worry folks, he'll be back next year, with all his filling of fruit with ripeness to the core. It's not a reason to be blue, just because the weather has turned chillingly cold and the radiators in my flat don't work, no! It's a time for rejoicing because Christmas will soon be upon us and what happiness that brings to the kids; my heart weeps tears of gladness that such a time is here.
Why be sad, just because I have to get up at 6.30 every morning and it's dark, so dark that I often think my alarm clock has made a silly mistake and woken me up in the middle of the night just for a laugh?! No, these are not sad times, readers, they are happy happy times. Who could be miserable just because it rains snow and the afternoons are so short we hardly recognise them!? Only the tyrants and parasites of this world could fail to see the beauty in a long dark winter evening! Who needs daylight!? Who needs to see the blueness of the sky, we know it's there, behind the grey looming clouds!
The End

Let me tell you, if you've been to Poland, you haven't experienced anything until you've been to the post office. You go in and there's a queue about 50 people long, the majority of whom are over 60, they all stare at you as you enter, and if anybody else comes in and has a conversation with somebody already in the queue they all stare. I'm not sure whether they are being nosey and listening to the conversation or just making sure that the new person isn't thinking of pushing in, but anyway they certainly know how to stare. So, you queue for about 30 minutes while the 2 people who are working take their time and ensure that everybody is attended to thoroughly (and one of them disappears for a while probably to help a customer that's gone round the back way or make themselves a well-deserved cup of tea). They don't rush, they just go at a steady pace... and nobody complains or argues or tuts or anything, they just stare at each other. I kept my head down and stared at the floor.

Meanwhile, the weekend has seen me trying out my 'Polish' on the unsuspecting crowds in the local disreputable bar; the same one that I always go to. I was mistaken for a Polish person and a bloke started speaking to me in English as a joke, only to discover, to his great embarrassment that I was actually from Britain! Oh, how we laughed! I saw one of my zombies in the disreputable bar, he wasn't so zombie-fied which may have something to do with the beer, but it was nice to know that it's not a constant ailment that he suffers from and that he has some form of medicine for it. Being the British person can have one of two responses from people, they either shy away from me in fear because they think they will have to speak English, or they delight in talking to me and practising their English. I am either loved or hated, I'm like marmite!

And I've officially boycotted the BBC World channel. Please join me in saying 'NO!' to documentaries about deaf violin players and blind ice skaters (please, c'mon, scraping the barrel!) and poor substitute film review programmes (where's Jonathan Ross? Instead we get some ponce who talks with big words and reviews 'cultural' films).

I bet you're wondering to yourself, as you read this bloggety-blog, 'how does she do it?' And you'd be forgiven for asking because, you know, it's not an easy task living away in a foreign country for a long period of time. The biggest problem? Well, I must be honest, for you good people deserve only honesty, and say that the biggest problem is the TV. Here I am, surrounded by Polish speaking folks and their Polish ways and all I want, all I ask for, is a good British comedy or documentary..... and what do I get? BBC World. Ok so there's news, but let me tell you, I don't want my news being read to me by the ones that didn't make the grade onto the real BBC. Last week I saw a newsreader with sleeves rolled up, slouching on the desk, speaking what can only be described as a very informal style of English. This just isn't good enough for the weary Brit abroad. No, I may be out of the country but that doesn't mean I deserve a lesser quality than those back home. It's more akin to Channel 5 than the good old BBC that I know and love(d). And as for the weather, well, don't get me started. Ok I've started so I'll finish! The weatherman is a Dale Winton wannabe, with his elaborate campness, and he may as well have a sign on his head saying 'Look I'm gay and black and the BBC are so pc and lib that they employed me!' It wasn't for his weatherman skills that's for sure. I expect him at any moment to say 'Charlie Cloud will be covering the whole of Europe, ooh I say, get yer sweaters out!' And that's another thing, the weather reports are like this: 'Over here in Australia it's going to be hot, over here in Asia it's going to be a bit wet and here in Europe it's dry. Now back to you in the studio....' Talk about a summary... So, disheartened with BBC World, I have no alternative than to watch Italian music channels, which are ok, but they're still playing 'Chelsea Dagger' when I want the new stuff. They play Take That though, so that's why I forgive them for all the hip hop and r'n'b.

Today is St Nicholas' day which means that Santa Clause (or The Artist Formerly Known as St Nick) is in town giving out pressies to the kids. This solves the mystery of how Santa can travel to all those different countries in such a short period of time on Christmas eve, plus, here in Poland there's no getting stuck down chimneys he just turns up in the town square. Of course, presents are also exchanged on Christmas eve, but on that day, while Santa is making his way round the rest of the world, the gifts are brought by a fairy or the baby Jesus. Not sure how that works, as the baby Jesus would need a lot of pocket money to buy everyone something.

Two days ago was St Barbara's day, she's the patron saint of many things, including miners, so this also is a time for celebration here in the region of Silesia. You know, here in Poland, and in Russia also, the Saints days are also known as name days, so if you are named after one of the saints then you celebrate in a birthday-style way. In some regions the name day is more important than the birthday. So, brother Nick, happy name day!

It's quite pleasant to see the pre-Christmas season from a different perspective. Obviously everybody here is Catholic and so they take this most-important festival very seriously, sticking to their family traditions of preparing for the big day. Some people go to Church every day for the whole month and some clean their houses and bake seasonal cakes. It's all about the religion and tradition for them, unlike in our unholy sales-driven corner of the world. If James Blunt gets to number one with his lame song which screams of 'I want a Christmas hit' then I am emigrating here for good. Fact.

Look who I bumped into over the weekend!

That's right, Wraclaw (pronounced Vrrrotswav) didn't know what had hit it. The hills were alive with Mancunian cries! I bet we looked good on the dance floor! Etc, etc.....

After an obligatory cultural visit to the Panorama Raclawicka we decided to, uh, sample the other culture, that being the food and drink.

We started the evening with a meal in a sombre candle-lit German basement restaurant, complete with Boar skin (and hoofs), Animal head and cleaver adorning the walls, which ended with the waiter selling us a 70% vodka, the taste of which will surely remain with me until my old age, and which I think took half of my throat with it on it's journey into my stomach. We then headed across the square to an Irish bar to carry on the merriment....and to sober up (just a little bit). After that, well, it's all a bit hazy. More drinking, talking nonsense, pop quizzes with no resolved answers, Wedding Present songs, etc. Needless to say that the evening ended with a good old knees-up in the nightclub called Bar 51 (or Bar 54?) and an inexplicably long walk back to the hostel. I'll let you look at the evidence.... unfortunately all my sightseeing photos mysteriously erased themselves from my camera....and all I'm left with are these, of drunken people.

Last night I threw a potato peel over my left shoulder to foresee the initial of my future husband and do you know what it revealed? I shall have TWO husbands! Yes, my potato peel split, revealing that I shall be the proud wife of two hubbies, whose initials, by the way will be S and I !!

So, this weekens I'm going for an adventure in Wraclaw, to see some sights, drink some beer and meet some rowdy Mancs! Stay tuned readers, for this will surely be a tale worth telling!