Grrrrrr

So things haven't been going too well at school recently. It all started when our old supervisor decided it would be a good idea if we went to 2 schools per day.
Now, it looks good on paper, but over the past 2 months it has been an absolute disaster!

Several times (including today), I have had no school lunch because the school I was at thought I would be at a different school.

The rainy season has started and when you have to walk 3 km between schools carrying all your resources for elementary and junior high school classes on a bad knee, you are not really in the right mood for being excited about english.

Teaching 6 classes a day is soul-destroying.

This does beg the question, if I was a Japanese teacher, would I be expected to work under these conditions?
Unfortunately, our previous supervisor left in April and we weren't given the chance to ask her.

Now, our awesome new supervisor has to try and deal with all the fall-out from this brilliant idea.
*sigh*

Just a few random pics

Well, the title pretty much sums it up.

I was out with a couple of friends last week and noticed this advertisement on the side of a cigarette vending machine:



Dunno about you guys, but I was totally convinced that smoking winston cigarettes will make me look like this guy.

So I didn't buy them.

That same day we went to a local park and played around for a little while. However, due to a childhood trauma (thanks, Dad), I was unable to go on the slide. We settled for the swings, instead.

Panic Day!

So June 18th was International Panic Day and to celebrate Shak made curry. Ok, he was going to have a curry night anyway, I just suggested we take a few photos to commerate the day, too.


And here they are:

This is about as panicky as Rob gets, apparently. His shirt did read, 'we are hysteric glamor', so I guess its ok.

Shak panicking over what to do.

Behind him, L - R: James, Marc, Mari, Tom.

Me and Charlie showing everyone the REAL way to panic. My tip: imagine the zombies have finally started their attack.

More Sunday adventures

So 2 Sundays ago we watched the sunset over Hagi ("should sunset be 1 word or 2? Noun or verb?" asks the English teacher). Last Sunday James had a BBQ to celebrate the start of the world cup.

There was meat and good music. The perfect evening.

Ok, pictures!

L - R: Marc, James, me, Rachel, Shak. Before the feasting began.

During the meating (see what I did there?), James and Marc took care of the cooking. What is it with men and barbecues, anyway? Consider this my one 'arty' shot with the whole reflection thing happening.

L - R: Rachel, James, Marc, Shak, Charlie.

After the meat was all gone. I asked for angry faces at the lack of more meat and this is what I got.
It was a really good night and hopefully there will be many more this summer. Yay!

Freedom! . . . well, kind of

So I was going to have a photo of me jumping for joy here after finally convincing the doctor to let me lose the brace.
Except I know my luck. If I took the photo outside I would land funny, twist my ankly, further injure my knee and be back at the hospital before the brace had even cooled down.
If I took the photo inside, I would bang my head on the light, stagger, whack my head on the door (the one made of glass, not the one made of paper) and fall over, landing me back at the hospital before the brace had even cooled down.
So here I am, in front of the computer for another 6 months until it has completely healed and I can finally play sport again. Can't wait for winter!

Last week

Shak had a great idea last Sunday: grab some Mosburger and head up to the mountains over Hagi to watch the sunset.

The Mosburger:

The sun set over Hagi:

Unfortunately, my camera just doesn't do it justice.

And the obligatory silly buggers photo:

D(ecision)-Day

So 6 months and 2 days after screwing my knee up and spending a month on crutches, then suffering through 5 months of physio, and enduring 2 weeks of sweltering weather trapped in long pants and the evil brace, tomorrow I find out if I am free or if I will have to have an operation, face a month in hospital during the hottest month of the year and fight my way through another 12 months of physio and rehabilitation.
I'm not worried. . . really.
I figure it is too much hassle for the doctors to deal with a crazy gaijin who can barely speak the language, so they will (hopefully) let me loose.

The detested brace:

My plan for the detested brace:

I like to believe my reaction is perfectly matched to the problem.