Surplus Supplies of Surprise

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Life, they say, is full of surprises.

Surprise No 1:
I have another student. This young lady knows nothing at all of English, and wants a gentle introduction. Now, my other student is above the level of any of the books I have here. But this one is below the level of any of my books.

I have no training whatsoever in teaching English this elementary. So, I'll just have to invent things as I go along, as usual.

Surprise No 2:
The boss has decided he's not coming over after all. It's good news, but I'll keep the celebrations on hold till he confirms - just in case he changes his mind again.

He called yesterday to lecture me for half an hour on how it's vitally important the office, which is half warehouse and half bedsit, looks like neither. He wants it cleaned every day. Yeah right.

Surprise No 3:
I got an email out of the blue, from someone I used to know vaguely at school. He was the best friend of a nodding acquaintance. I thought he was quite happily unbullied and uninvolved in any of the squabbles that teenage boys manufacture amongst themselves. A nice guy, not trying to be remarkable, and basically untroubled.

But no. He says he hated being there and the memories still trouble him. But that's not what he really wanted to say. He'd felt sorry for me, being treated like crap all day every schoolday by the hoards of hormonal morons, and had wanted to help, to offer some support, but he was scared to, in case they turned on him.

I'm...touched. That someone I barely knew, from a time I barely think about, should have felt that way back then, with me completely unaware of it, and has carried a sense of guilt for two decades.

So I guess it's true what they say - you never really know someone, and you don't know who your friends are.

We've exchanged some emails; We'll see what happens.

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A bonus surprise:

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Half of my clothes now have odd white bits. There's a perfectly good reason for this, namely that bottles with label illustrations that lead you to think they contain detergent, sometimes contain bleach.

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One of my teeth is thinking about developing toothache. I am going to hit it with a toothbrush until it changes it's mind.

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My parents have offered to send me a small digital camera in the mail, so I can make a visual record of sorts of my time here. I can go for walks around the hills and lakes, and send snapshots back home.

It's a good plan, but it does require circumnavigating the Bulgarian postal service, which is part Chinese puzzle, part con trick and part oxymoron. Sundry charges are decided by a combination of size, weight and I Ching. Anything that isn't specifically marked as non-commercial is assumed to be a commercial import and subject to around 30% tax, it takes two weeks or more to arrive, and when it does the post office keep it in the basement, waiting for you to drop by.

If you want to get anything out of Bulgaria, it's quicker, more reliable and sometimes cheaper to carry it in your hand luggage.

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