Episode 21: Coming of Age

This is just another excuse to print
a further picture of the fabulous
Hylda Baker

So, we've established the fact that we´re not on a rollercoaster and we've also established the fact that Hylda Baker was a comedy legend (just checking to see if you were concentrating!). Now it's time for an update.


After the ups and downs of the last blog, several people wrote to me to say how they´d been concerned at how the lovely José and me had been feeling and offered all sorts of help from putting us in touch with people to food parcels of marmite and pigs trotters, although not together you understand. I have to say that we were so touched that so many people took the time out to write and if I've not written back to you, then please accept this mention as massive thanks from us both. To those of you who didn't write, why not? Can't you see we were in emotional and financial pain here? I mean, the world´s economies may be in crisis, but surely you could spare us a couple of coppers? Tight buggers!

José's favourite, the tried and tested
Vaca 102c, 2009 model

Anyway, the Bonus company contacted us to say that the last offer had gone so well that they were going to repeat it on the following Monday, which was an even bigger shock - especially to José who has to teach all of these people. And quite frankly, with all this extra paperwork to process, these nails won't file themselves. Well, we decided that we would allow it to go ahead and in the end we only bagged another 7 people, making the grand total of 44, which was fine. I really shudder to think what could have happened if we'd managed another 37. We could have been the world's first 24 hour English school. Well, all the business books tell you to have a Unique Selling Point, although they don't mention if the use of a cattle prod on barely awake students at 3.30am is acceptable.

Get a room boys!

Bonus over, the great Spanish unwashed started to contact us.........and trust me, in the warm weather we've been having, some Spaniards have been so unwashed they have their own eco system. Thankfully, our students (so far) appear to be a fragrant bunch, because quite frankly, you wouldn't want to be hammering home a tricky collocation downwind of a putrid armpit.


The other chance we took on the weekend before the Bonus came out was an advertisement in the local newspaper, La Voz de Galicia ("The Voice of Galicia"), which is an easy lesson this week as I can't be arsed! We were advertising for nurses; not because we're ill and in need, but because we want to teach them English in order that they can leave the country and work in the UK. This is actually all part of a master plan to empty Spain. Nurses first and then next year, we are going to start on Steeplejacks, jockeys and the woman who irons the blouses for the 9 o´clock newscasters.


At the time of the advertisement, we didn't have two spare Euro's to scratch our collective arses with, as one of our customers still hadn't paid us. It seems that it is a crime and/or a sin to mention money to people who are buying a service here in Spain. They can come and have lessons, but if I am to remind them of the fact that they need to pay us, it's slightly more shocking than if I peed up the Pope's frock live on national TV. And it's always the ones with the money who wait as long as possible to pay. Anyway, money eventually came in and a week later, we risked it all on this advert.

Places are still available

Result!!! We wanted three nurses from the ad and in fact, we have had four pay us in advance, with the possibility of another one or two before the course starts on 16th April. I don't look at them as nurses though, I look at them as €xx per month for the duration of the course, which is 8 months. Whoo hoo!!


It's amazing just how much one's vision changes when owning a business. There is now no such thing as a person. Everyone who walks through the door is money in our account and the possibility of food on the table. Being British though, I do like to maintain the class system, which works as such;


3 - 5 hours of lessons a week elicits a cheery good morning/afternoon, the offer of a hot or cold drink, a little conversation about the state of the weather/economy and a kiss/handshake at the end of the week when wishing them a nice weekend.


2 hours of lessons a week elicits a nice good morning, although this tails off a little if they come later in the day and by 8pm, I may just grunt. I'll make them a hot drink (but only if I've just made one myself) and I will chat to them about what I want to talk about; for example how bad Julian Fellowes "Titanic" adaptation was, who will be the next to be thrown off The Apprentice and whether or not George Alagiah should ever wear a purple tie with a blue shirt. If they have brought me something in the week (for instance, one girl brought us cupcakes this week), then they get a kiss/handshake, but if nothing is forthcoming, they get nada

Coffee and a little message
from the management

1 hour a week elicits no more than a nodded acknowledgement that they have arrived. If they want a drink, I mean really want a drink, I put the kettle on and ask them to make it themselves and I get out the instant coffee we don't like (it looks like Gold Blend and tastes like gold paint). The only talking is "sit there and he won't be long" and I certainly don't touch them. Ever!


So, things started to change a little and then the most amazing thing happened.......someone from the newspaper contacted José to say that they had seen our ad in the newspaper and wanted to interview him for a piece about the school. The following day he set up a telephone interview in which he gave them chapter and verse about what we do, the courses we run and why people should come to us rather than anyone else, all without using the word 'desperate'. The crucial word in this equation is free. This was free publicity and it made sure that the money we had spent on the ad was stunning value. Neither of us could believe our luck. He did consider hiring security as he was convinced that the public would be beating a path to our door after reading this, but it was so expensive. One big burly bouncer was €80 per hour, €95 if they had a criminal record. Even the cheapest little old lady with a lethal umbrella was €35 and she wasn't even the full hour, as she was on diuretics and had to have a toilet break every 30 minutes. As luck would have it, nothing happened and so we bought two chocolate & vanilla muffins instead.

I don't understand a bloody word of it, but apparently it means that our school is dead good!!!

Other sandwich fillings are available

Next week is Semana Santa here in Spain, which is Easter Week. There are places that are open, but no-one can be bothered to work. You will get served, but with more of a snarl than usual, as so many places close down for the week. We have taken the opportunity to close the school and have been given a further opportunity to use someone's villa for the week in the south of Spain. Tomorrow, we're off - egg sandwiches in hand - to a little hotel just south of Madrid, before completing the journey the following day. It's a working holiday as we're developing some online courses, but given the choice of working at home or sitting in the sunshine by our own pool, there wasn't much whirring and clanking of the little grey cells required to come to that decision


Well, it's time for me to go and pack my suitcase and get ready for our jaunt to the south, as it's a quarter past......ooh, I must get a little hand put on this watch!


Buena Semana Santa a todos
xxxx

Episode 20: Life is not a bleedin' rollercoaster

Anyone who says that running a business is easy should be shot. I would have absolutely no qualms about helping them onto the Paradise Express, First Class ticket and all; because it's not! Easy, that is. 

Don't get me wrong. I think I mentioned before that I was under no illusion running my own business would be 'un paseo por el parque' (that's 'a walk in the park' - I thought I would progress to a small idiom this week as you've all been doing so well!) I didn't think that King Juan Carlos and I (or JC as I call him, because it gives him religious delusions) would be sitting down to toast and tea every couple of weeks, whilst the school virtually ran itself. I was ready for the hard work, but the one thing I really wasn't ready for was the disappointment factor. That was possibly the most difficult thing to bear.

Meryl Streep is now in talks to
portray the comedy legend that
was Hylda Baker. 
Possibly

Many of you lovely people know that José and I did not decide to open a school of English because we love people. We don't. In fact, there are days when I can't stand the bloody sight of another one, but I stick to Margaret Thatcher's mantra for when she was meeting groups of world leaders; "teeth and tits dear, teeth and tits". And so, as another group of Conversation English people trudge up the stairs to our little learning Stalag, I pop my teeth in, puff my chest out and turn into the professional what I am. Come to think of it, it could have been Hylda Baker and not Maggie T. But you catch my drift!

Bob The Builder, with his hard
hat & waving his big tool about

In fact, we initially thought of doing up houses here. Despite a recession, small houses were selling, mainly to overseas buyers and so we thought this would be a good way forward. Cue thoughts of hard hats, big tools and enough sweaty, sinewy workmen in tight vests to staff an entire Gay Pride parade. Then we decided we would show ourselves up to be the couple of old leches we obviously are and thought better of it.


The other thought we had, which is far more us, was a small English tearoom. I rather fancied buttering some old Spanish matron's crumpets for her, whilst sharing the latest gossip about HRH Kate, courtesy of 'Hello' magazine. This was right up there as our main choice, until one fateful day, José met with the (now 'ex') Principal of the Sussex Coast College in Hastings (SCCH). He asked José to think about opening up a school of English. Like all men, he promised him the earth, but like most men, it was a two minute wonder. He suffered from Premature Eviction and was ousted from the college just before Christmas last year, having fallen on his sword over some Ofsted scandal.

When I play my Bay City Rollers CD,
my pussy goes mad

We fell for it though, hook, line and sink-plug. As you will see from our wonderful (ahem!) website, www.thenewschoolofenglish.com (does anyone know anyone who would like to write us a new Word Press website for about £20, let me know!), it clearly states that we are in collaboration with SCCH. We-e-e-e-e-e-ell, we are in contact with them by email. And very nice they are too. Georgina is being chatted up with Derek in IT and thinks she might like to go out with him, but won't let him get to second base on a first date because she's thinking of wearing a linen blouse and you know how badly they crease. Amy thinks her cat has mental health problems because it goes into a frenzy every time she plays her Bay City Rollers CD's and Ron has had his ingrowing toenail removed last week and is relying on mother to do everything for him at the moment. All very lovely, but it doesn't help us one little iota. Since July we have been asking for publicity materials in order that we can advertise the International Baccalaureate here in Spain, but as yet, we have received nothing. Nada! There are other issues, but I won't bother you with them. The point is, we are not able to fulfil our full earning potential at the moment and that is SO frustrating.


Then there are the Bonuses. Again, at the risk of repeating myself because I can't think of anything new to write, I have mentioned the Bonuses before, but because I can't think of anything new to write, I will mention them again. We work with a site called Let's Bonus, which is similar to Groupon in the UK, should anyone know anything of them. Basically, companies offer stuff at a very reduced price and the great Spanish public buy it online. We then spend the next xxx number of weeks and months fending them off, as they try to get something for nothing. When their Bonus is over (and it's up to us on the promotion how long it lasts), they have to pay the full price if they decide to stay. We've quickly learned that not as many decide to stay as we would like, which means that we slog our guts out for weeks on end for little reward and then they bugger off.


Naïvely, we thought that once we'd hooked them in, they would be so grateful to us for the hard work we put into our lessons, they would want to stay with us. How wrong we were. Some have stayed and to those people we say this. We love you. In fact, we love you long time!!! Anytime you want to come and use us sexually, you are most welcome. (I mean, there are a couple of right munters in there, but needs must). Mere words cannot convey our gratitude to these lovely people.

Our lowest point came about three weeks ago. We ran a Holiday English course through the Let's Bonus site and thought we had learned the lessons of our previous promotion. This course is for three months, so the first month was significantly reduced and the other two were at full price. It was very clear in the promotional ad that people buying the first cheap month needed to complete the whole course and we also made sure we repeated this to everyone when they started. They all nodded their understanding and agreement and the 14 people who came were all good to go. Three weeks ago, the end of the first month was up and one by one, nearly every single bloody one of them walked out and said they weren't coming back. Only two people stayed. The same week we lost several other people who were at the end of their Conversation Class Bonus and who also left. Our projections for who would stay were massively reduced and we were bereft.

Dear Ronan. Life is not a bloody
rollercoaster. you pillock. Mark x

Now, let me get one thing straight. This is not an emotional rollercoaster and NEVER will be. I loathe that expression. If I hear one more person on the TV mention that "it's been an emotional rollercoaster", I will not be responsible for my actions. Some things just get my goat, like Chico in "Dancing on Ice", my current Spanish teacher and having to clip my toenails every so often. This expression just happens to be on that list. 


No, what it is, is a bleedin' nightmare (and that's the clean version). Sitting there watching as next month's money walks out the door, never to come back is soul destroying; especially when we've put so much effort into working with them and their wallets in the first place.


Driving home this Monday night, José and I talked about a worst case scenario. Interestingly, we are still bringing in more money than last month and our client base is building, but it's slowed down and there is going to be a point where growth needs to speed up a little or we will have to rethink our whole operation here. In the car, we decided that we could continue, but we may have to rent somewhere a little less central in order to reduce overheads etc. It could be done. Feeling a little buoyed, we went home and cheered ourselves up by looking at common people on the TV via "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding".

Calling Gloriiiaaaaaaaaaaaa

What a difference a day makes! On Tuesday, after my Spanish class with the Oberleutnant María, I found several emails on my iPhone from people who wanted to come to the school, which surprised me. The thing is, last week, we sent another Let's Bonus promotion through. The woman we deal with from the company (Gloria) always tells us when a Bonus is about to run, but this time she didn't, so it came as quite a shock. My idea was that, as we have lots of classes with just one person in, José was already working hard so we may as well make more money from him by putting more people into each of these classes. And these are classes that people want to stay in. They are classes where people study for quite a long time, either for some certificate or other or because they want to learn the language and need the time to do so. In other words, classes that cost money; money that José and me are happy to take off them without having to rifle through their jacket pockets in the coat rack.

My Facebook update for the (Tues)day was "I'm speechless" and for once, I was. The day before, we were considering the possibilities for an exit strategy, should one be needed. Today, we are knee deep (or in José's case, waist deep as he's only 5'6½" tall!) in new students, with more on the way. We had hoped for about 8 or 10 students. We got 37! I'm not on a rollercoaster but Monday night was certainly the Ghost Train and today, I appear to have moved to the Fun House. Goodness knows what tomorrow will bring but right now, I'm off to butter my own crumpets.

Episode 19: Carnival time

When the Spanish do something, they like to do it well and for a long time. Why do you think I married one?! However in this instance, I'm talking about Carnival. In the UK, we orgnise some floats on a wet Saturday afternoon, maybe have a small travelling fair turn up and some sideshows, Mrs. Fazackerley makes her jam that no-one likes but it sells like hotcakes as no-one dare tell her and then it's all over. Everyone goes home until next year. Here, things couldn't be different. A couple of weeks ago, Spain had its carnival and, unlike the UK, where we couldn't organise the ubiquitous excessive alcohol consumption get-together in a hop brewing establishment, Spain has no such problems. Carnival goes on for no less than FIVE days and is an opportunity for every Spaniard to dress up, go out into the street and look ridiculous. Personally this is something I see most days and I wondered what carnival would actually bring to the party that was so different, but I wasn't to be disappointed, although I was a little perplexed when served at the local Gadis supermarket (known in my house as the Gladys supermarket) by a chicken. Imagine the health and safety concerns in the UK, but it appears that in Spain, no-one really minds a little feather in their steak or a felt turkey wattle in their ribs.

Three minutes after I took this picture, this chicken was seen waving a cleaver & hacking up meat joints. It was a little scary & somewhat surreal to watch. I left the supermarket straight after.

I need to tell you a little about carnival here. It is a national event. It starts on Friday night with the enthronement of King Momo and ends on the Wednesday when they bury a sardine. I know, I know, but stay with it............King Momo is considered to be the King of Carnivals. He's a large jolly man with a big belly. Sounds familiar??

I am SOOO dead when he reads this!!

Anyway, we went to the enthronement on the Friday night where there are groups of Comparsas. These are people who have nothing better to do of an evening and spend their year making matching costumes to wear for carnival. In the UK, we call them weirdo's. The carnival each year has a theme and these groups get together and make up new lyrics to well known songs about that theme. They then dress up in their matching costumes and perform them in front of judges who, judging by this years winning entry, were a couple of meths drinkers from the María Pita square here in the city centre. The winning group gets to perform on the night of King Momo's enthronement, whilst the other Comparsas all stand around watching and willing them to forget their words or fall off the stage.

I'm not sure which was which, but I'm guessing
the one on the left was wind, judging by the
look on his face

After the enthronement, we were shepherded across the road to a demonstration of more weirdness. A samba band stood across the zebra crossing, blocking the way for all the cars and played whilst we pedestrians wandered across. That was fun. I could have gone backwards and forwards across that crossing all night just to piss off the Spanish drivers, because I still have massive issues with their (non)-driving skills here (Blog episode number 8 if you're interested or need reminding) Well, going across the road was a big mistake. I was told that Earth Wind & Fire were over there, so I laced up my platform shoes wandered over to shake my groove thing to "Star", "Let's groove" & "Boogie Wonderland" to name but three of their million selling hits from the late 1970's/early 1980's. When I realised it was some blokes on stilts and a couple of birds waving silks around in order to represent the elements (and they didn't even have the decency to have a red scarf to represent fire), we left and went for dinner instead. Mind you, I was interested to see how they were going to represent wind, although after the falafel we had later that night.........................!!


Saturday was the parade. The Carrozas (or Floats, in case you thought I'd forgotten this weeks lesson) were all out in force along with loads of really fabulous costumes and papier maché figures. The Comparsas were also out again. I don't know what it is with them, but once they spot a party, they just don't stop. That said, by the end of the second consecutive night of constant walking and dancing, their costumes are getting a little whiffy and people start carrying air fresheners with them in case of emergency situations.


Nothing much happens on a Sunday, although I imagine that after two long days of boozing, boogying and banging (drums love, drums!), there are bunions to be soaked and costumes to be steeped in Ariel before Monday!

Never mind Angry Birds,
here's a couple of ugly ones!

Monday night sees the world and his wife dressing up and going out - again. It's a young person's thing, so if I were to do it at the tender age of 48, I would get some funny looks as people stare in sympathy at my obvious lack of self esteem. However it's great fun to wander around the city centre and see the costumes people have. The one problem is that we have a plethora of Chinese Markets here in this country, all of which sell carnival costumes, so the age old problem of wondering if someone is going to be wearing the same as you at the party is increased significantly if you go down that route. To that end, we saw loads of Angry Birds (the video game, not distressed ladies!), superheroes, police, animals etc, but also some stupendous home-made costumes. It's also a night when traditionally, men also dress as women. There was some hilarious Cissie and Ada type drag wandering the streets, which I admit I loved. I think that next year, the taffeta has to come out. I shall go to the ball!


Due to their hard partying, Tuesday is a day of rest, hangovers and holiday. Here in Spain, there is a Bank Holiday once every three weeks by law, or so it seems. I'm not bothered as it means I don't have to go to school and see María, who is not improving I have to tell you! In fact, during carnival week, the language school was closed from Monday to Wednesday, which meant it was carnival for me too and I damn well enjoyed it without having to listen to her wittering on.

How very like my own dear mother, although
her moustache is more convincing!

Then on Wednesday night (Ash Wednesday), the Spanish like to get together and bury a sardine, as you do. It's no ordinary sardine though; it's a ma-hoosive one, which is made from papier maché and carried on a float, surrounded by funeral directors and grieving "widows" in black, some of whom are - shall we say - a little less ladylike than others!! As we watched the procession go past, some of these widows, wailing and clutching tissues, came up to us and thanked us for coming along to such a sad event. It's all part of the show, apparently. Then they go down to the beach where a "pastor" delivers a service to signify the death of the carnival season. King Momo is burned as is the sardine and it's ashes are buried on the beach, ready for some 5 year old child to find in the summer months during a hot summer's day sunbathing. Cue more wailing at the death of the carnival! I could hear all this clacking and thought that people actually had their castanets out until I realised it was the sound of 100 "widows" simultaneously gnashing their dentures in grief.


With this, the carnival season is over and the period of abstinence of Lent begins. This year, I'm giving up believing that I've seen it all, as I obviously haven't. Weeping over a 25 foot long papier maché sardine has taught me that valuable lesson. 

I was going to put something funny here, but I can't beat the reality that the Spanish make a sardine,
hold a funeral cortège and then bury it on the beach. You couldn't make it up!!

Before I go, there are two things I would like to mention totally unrelated to carnival, but which caught my eye this week:
The first is my mobile phone bill. You may remember I recounted the sad story and promised a bulls testicle to each of you, should this be sorted (Episode 13)? Well, I can't believe I'm telling you this, but.......it's been sorted. A little while ago we were contacted by the phone company who decided to offer us a reduction in our bills. The game of brinkmanship was nearly over, but not quite. They made us a good offer but those of you who know me well will know what happened next. The offer wasn't good enough, so I told José to reject it and ask for a little more. He was a little anxious about this as we'd never had even one offer from them, so to reject the one we had was possible madness. Being more than a little used to this state of mind, he went for it and they agreed to a further reduction. We settled there and then. I've now worked out that we are going to be paying less over the period of our contract than we would have done had we have paid full price, so that's a result. I do love a bargain (or a 'ganga' as they say in these 'ere parts!) As a man of my word, here's a bull's testicle for you. A word of warning though........................don't eat before watching this!!

And finally, Groupon. For those of you who don't know what Groupon is, it's similar to the agency we used here in Spain to sell our Conversation and Holiday English courses - expensive stuff but with a considerable discount. Last week, they sent out one daily email with a full Microsoft Course, down from around €800 to €99. They also advertised some masturbatory eggs, with a poor out-of-work actor/model looking extremely embarrassed that his life had reached this low point. (DIRECTOR: "Excuse me love, can you give us that 'Ho hum, I have no job, so I may as well knock one out´type look please?") 

Alas poor Yorrick........I once gave him a Happy Ending behind the bike sheds with one of these!

Can you believe that at the end of the day they'd sold only 14 Microsoft Courses and a whopping 387 packs of masturbatory eggs, which just goes to show that there are far more wankers here in Spain than intellectuals!