Blogs from Luton, Bedfordshire, England, United Kingdom, Europe

Lotty's version of events:- After a hugely emotional goodbye with family, friends, dogs and the horse, Mum proved that it was not her but kerry that was the cold hearted ice queen! (love you Kez). We are currently sat in Luton airport exec lounge. Of our whole journey Planty is dreading the next few hours the most as on his planet a Ryan air flight is much worse than Moroccan transport or Indian accomodation..... we shall see! As the last few months have been so hectic, we plan on spending the next few days sitting by the pool and doing nothing! Planty has already been confused for Spanish and we have not even left the UK yet, and they tested our kindle for bomb chemical residues.... obviously he's shifty looking but just wait until he has ... read more

Our friend, MaryJo, is from Ireland. In case you don't know, an Irish friend equals a kick-ass St. Patrick's Day. Heck yes. We got the hook-ups. Patrice's House Even though it's a week night, we deck ourselves in green and head over to MaryJo's Irish friends' house to have some food and drinks before we go out. Patrice, whose house we are at, cooks up some sausages and beans and dishes up salad for dinner. Her boyfriend, who also lives there, informs us that the house is under renovations at the moment. (Even though the absence of walls and the presence of plywood everywhere make that obvious.) Dinner is delicious, and we top it off with green beer and other green mixed drinks. Apparently, there's some pop band in the UK called "Girls on Tour", and ... read more

Teaching this history class is a NIGHTMARE. They make me almost cry everyday. In fact, I would cry except that I don't want them to have the satisfaction, so I hold it in. I've never been one to hold in tears, because I find it painful. All that negative energy just stores up in your body and it's harmful. This class has thirty-two students, four of whom are girls. The rest are the most wild, immature boys I've ever seen in my life. They enter my classroom running and chasing each other, throwing chairs around and yelling. They refuse to sit in assigned seats; they prefer to sit by their friends and talk for the whole lesson. I'm up there trying to teach, and it's like background music that no one really pays attention to. They're ... read more

To fulfill the government requirement that all high school students in the UK receive Sex and Relationship Education (aka, SRE), my school has hired a lady from the Luton City Council to teach my Year 11 students during our enterprise lessons. Of course, we lay down some ground rules like, "No laughing at other people's questions" and "Don't ask personal questions or share personal information." But....can you imagine a room full of sixteen-year-olds talking about sex and relationships? Yep, that's exactly what it's like. The kind lady from the City Council travels to different schools teaching SRE. Since she doesn't know him, she doesn't realize Mitchell is just trying to be funny when he raises his hand and says, "Miss? I have gonorrhea." Everyone cracks up, trying to cover their smiles casually. "Mitchell," I say in ... read more

I'm spending the night at Deanna's house tonight. All her housemates have left to go on various trips for the half term break, so she has invited over the young adult group from her church. They always have a prayer session on Sunday nights. And, oh, she cooked!! Banana bread, magic bars (which are like six layer bars), and pizza. I totally make a pig of myself. Deanna's friend, Igi, who is from Slovakia, brought his guitar, and he plays and sings for a while. It's such good American-style fun; it makes me miss home. Eventually, the prayer session begins. I haven't been to a Catholic prayer session in probably two years. Not since I was married. I take a song sheet from Igi and notice that they're all praise and worship songs. Taking a seat ... read more