The Secret Diary of a Cleaner

I hit the board again

2008-10-16T22:39:00.003+01:00

I hit the ironing board again last Saturday. I have problems with my "i" key. Sometimes it does not type the letter, so it gave me a "roning bord" and made me a samurai of the pleats.

I worked for an old aquaintance of mine - that's right - the lady with the 7 ironed pyjamas per week per family member. She has a cleaner now (it was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced), a professional one, not a "career commuter" like me. The lady has been cleaning for about 20 years and apprently was still hungry for dust bunnies and all... And she looked like a professional woman: necklace, lipstick plus an apron to protect her.

I always had my "More than just a handful" T-shirt as crumpled as a raisin. I have always considered it my business card, but never cared enough to make it look better.

So it was a relief in a way that I was hearing the hoover upstairs but it was not my hand the one who was moving it.

The good thing is that now I can look at bathroom displays (in shops who sell tiles and stuff like that) without thinking - "How many minutes does it takes me to clean these?" I can also face a mirror without trying to see from different angles if there is any smear left.

Word Carrier

2008-09-25T08:27:00.002+01:00

I have a new blog. Why? Because the system allows me.
This clean is kind of ended, so it will get dirty in time.

You can follow me at this address: Word Carrier.

Mucho dolor

2008-09-12T20:56:00.002+01:00

I remember I saw "Mucho dolor" (a lot of pain) on a T-shirt, in a film.

I had to let all my ladies and gents know that I am leaving them. One indian lady does not want to let me go. The day I told her that I will leave she kept me on the phone for minutes and soon after I hanged on she called me back and I had to do psychological counselling and to listen to her like we were friends.

Yesterday she was calmer, but still asked me if I am available from time to time to help her. I said yes, but who knows what I will do when she calls me. I can't understand her when she says "A good cleaner is so hard to find." I don't agree. She's too stiff in her convictions. And she complicates her life by washing and ironing pyjamas every day. I think the "cleaner crunch" should teach her a lesson, so that her family will stop ironing pyjamas. But it won't.

On my way to the second job I bought a card because the guy deserves one, no matter what. And on the kitchen table there was a big box waiting for me and a small "Thank you" note. I got emotional and I hurried to finish, for fear someone would return home and I wanted to avoid human presence because I couldn't cope. I stroke one of the cats which was happy to see me and left after leaving the key on the same kitchen table.

Bella Dustella Italia

2008-09-09T22:07:00.005+01:00

Back from Italy. My first hours spent in Marina di Massa gave me the impression I was in Tzandarei, Ialomitza county. I mean in Genova I had a look at the dusty sidewalks and shops which looked like Romania. Then I arrived in Marina di Massa and I felt like somewhere in the south of Romania - the shops, the prints on clothes, the teenagers in front of the bowling club, the iron gates and the dogs in the yards, everything seemed like Romania.

I even went to 2 banks to try to change some money. The first bank would do that only for its customers and the second bank told me something like "Computer said no". I mean the lady explained that the process would take too long because they had some computer problems.

So I felt like at home and the first 2 days I was missing London. When I got back to London from sunny Italy I regreted because the weather was bad in England. Yesterday I had my swimming suit full of sand and today in London I had to put my fleece on.

In the airplane there was a Russian woman with a big girl. And I could hear the woman speaking Russian to the girl and the child started to cry, which is a normal reaction when someone hear Russian: I would cry too, if my mother would talk to me in Russian. In the airport I heard the woman telling the girl something about "kaleski" or "kaleska" which must be the pram. Or horse and carriage.

At the airport in London, after we landed I saw a sign "Toilets are closed to immigration". What? Immigrants should wear nappies or what? There are no borders for my bladder.

Time to say goodbye

2008-08-31T18:01:00.004+01:00

I packed my bag for Italy in no time. 2 pairs of shoes, 3 dresses, Mickey, Goofy, Pluto and Donald, swimming suit, pictures for my parents.

Birdseye ;) and pastrami

2008-08-31T13:06:00.007+01:00

Who says life is unpredictable? A foggy Sunday lunch is very predictable for me: Chicago pizza and Carlsberg. Probably the best frozen pizza in the world and probably the best beer in the world. In any case, Chicago pizza is better than Dr. Oetker. And ater all, what is wrong with frozen food? In Romania, before 1989 your household ruled if it had a big freezer to preserve meat or vegetables, even if it consumed as much electricity as Las Vegas.

The idea of preserving food belongs to a new yorker named Clarence Birdseye who gave up his office job in New York and moved to Labrador with wife and belongings. And he noticed soon after being caught, fish would freeze. Cooking fish from frozen was like eating fresh fish. Better and healthier than salted fish, anyway. And he discovered that rapid freezing formed smaller frozen molecules who did not affect the taste of food. His family used to preserve food in Labrador by leaving vegetables on the window sill, in the frost. Nowadays Birdseye is a brand of frozen food.

I know these things from a book called "Salt". Because I like reading shitty (and savoury) books.

From that book I also found out that "pastrami" originates from Romania. The author was giving further explanations about the name deriving from the verb "a pastra" which in Romanian means "to preserve". Pastrami was very popular in North America in Jewish shops. I had a look at the index of the book to see if they listed Romanian or something. Nope. They forgot.

Back to my cold box of pizza, I was waiting for my turn in order to pay and the guy who was in front of me looked at my box and said something like "Mind sharing?" which I could not understand at the beginning so I smiled. I would have smiled anyway. But the guy had 100 kilos. He seemed to me to have shared a lot of pizzas.

Childish in leash

2008-08-31T09:54:00.004+01:00

A while ago I was waiting for my train in the tube station. I was sitting on a bench on the platform and another person came and sat on the same bench. Minutes later a grandad with his grandson in a leash appeared also on the platform to shock me.

The toddler wanted to go somewhere to explore and the grandad was pulling the leash like he had a dog. Sometimes people talk to their dog and the man was talking as well, while pulling the leash to have the child come his way. I was so shocked that I wanted to start coversation with the man next to me. I wanted to tell him that I do not understand people here: they treat animals like humans and human beings like animals. But maybe he was no better... Mabe he also believed pulling that child from 2 metres was the right thing to do.

I had seen on a leaflet urges to donate £2 a month so that a diabetic dog can have his daily insulin injections. With £10a month Toby the cat could have x rays to establish what caused its asthma. I could not believe my eyes. I mean it is a good thing that this society is so advanced and affords to take care of animals, but to have x rays at high costs for a cat with 9 lives it's too much for me. Children are starving as I type.

I mean the man could have hold the child's hand if he did not like carrying him in his arms - it was safe, human and nice. That is what adults should do. That is what I would do. And he could have gone close to the rails and explain to the child their use.

Playboy mansions and cooking apples

2008-08-30T21:51:00.003+01:00

Just got rid of my bra. It was causing my eyes to bulge. Besides I discovered a small lump on my forehead this morning at work. I must have banged my head over the bedside table while sleeping. I should cover my bedside table in velvet so that I get safe sleep.

It was a beautiful day today. This morning I was in the tube by myself, reading "The elements of copywriting" and highlighting the important things about headlines, using a neon orange highlighter. Two stations later about 4-5 Playboy mansions got on. I call them mansions even if they were bunnies. I mean blonde good looking girls all noisy, made up, straight hair, apparently broken arms with bags on them.
I hate how women nowadays hold their bags. They could hold it on the shoulder, nicely. No way! They like their arms in stupid positions. One of these days I saw a lady wearing her bag like that. It was ridiculous. I wanted to tell her - don't you feel stupid holding your bag like that? Her "man" was behind her, looking at her with love. I wanted to ask him if he didn't mind living with such a bag and a broken arm.

What is more ridiculous, this "disease" spreads from one woman to another as if bags were never held on shoulders.

So, this morning in the tube I went on reading about headlines and how to address customers. At some point I wanted to lift my arm a bit but I realised my armpit looked like Julia Roberts' and the Playboy mansions might see it and despise me. Not that I am a feminist and I like to grow my hair, but it happened. Hair just grows on me. And I thought the sleeves of my T-shirt might not cover everything and there are the Playboy mansions...

To sweeten my day I came home and cooked some apple pies. My friend bought some ready to use pastry layers and I prepared the cooking apples which are a bit sour. I added some sugar but was afraid it will become too sweet. It hasn't. Still needs sugar. So my trial to sweeten my existence failed this time as well.

The Western pitzipoanka

2008-08-30T20:39:00.014+01:00

I am sick and tired of prejudices stating that Eastern European women are after money. Them, the ones and only. A Western woman is entitled by default to link to someone who has money: the world won't see and criticize their choice because - you see - they belong to the Western sheen and they are entitled to it.

I'll get back to the knickers:

For what I know, Eastern European women have been working hard. And they still are. I mean look at me. Still working hard, sacrificing myself on the altar of Ganesha and Vishnu to keep households tidy. Western women I know: they complain that it's so hard to have children and look after them (and they have a nanny or au pair and anyway the children are at school from 8am to 4pm and the summer holiday is shorter than in Eastern Europe). They are lazy. They prefer to speak on the phone some half an hour nonsense and life still is complicated for them.

Western women have at least a car under their ass so they don't have to carry by hand all the Tesco bags. Eastern women have a bus at hand when they go shopping on a frosty winter day, the one you can find only in Eastern Europe.

Western women's laziness is packed nicely in two or three words "professional mother" or "dedication to family". And what I can't understand is that these women are looking for holidays with their men and their men even take them on holidays, so that they can relax after a hard year of doing practically nothing. I don't get it when a husband says "I am going to Dubai on a holiday." it is understood that the wife follows. I suppose most husbands in the West are afaid of divorcing because they know they will get only their D&G boxers and a Waitrose bag full of shits... I mean shirts.

Two Western women met in the street:
- I heard you divorced X? But what was he before you got married?
- He was a billionaire. Now he is a millionaire.

Besides, a Western woman is given the chance to make money quickly if she works hard. Few Eastern women are given this chance, no matter how hard they work.
More likely they get something like a couple of hundreds euros per month for working even night shifts and on holidays. They may work helluva hard and the money they earn cannot pay the utility bills. And of course - it is natural - they will want to have what other women have (in terms of material life). Why not?

Recently I've heard a man saying that in Eastern Europe marrying a well off man is seen like a good business. But isn't this good business even for Western women? You - a Westerner "pitzipoanca"* fetch the "ciumpalac"* and a few years later ask for a divorce. You will get rid of the "ciumpalac" but keep a lot of his possessions so that you don't have to worry for the rest of your life because somebody else will pay for your bills. If you can re-marry one of his friends because he has it bigger (the bank account) nobody will notice or damn you: you deserve that because you are the legitimate daughter of the West.

Moreover, Eastern women can appreciate a man if he provides for them. That is why most Western men want Eastern European women: they know they will get good value. And good oral sex.

______________
*"ciumpalac" means "man"; "dumb" is intrinsic
*"pitipoanca" means "girl"; "material" is intrinsic

How I opposed communism. Or not.

2008-08-25T21:22:00.006+01:00

In my class I was a group commander (I had a red special cord attached at one end on the shoulder and at the other at the breast pocket; the same way generals and military wear them in some countries). Then I don't know how, one day I was a class commander. I think the teacher chose a pupil judging the marks in the register. As a class commander I had a yellow cord.

Regularly we had some school meetings where the thing was as follows: the whole school was gathered on a special place which had in the middle a special pole where the national flag was lifted. All classes of pioneers starting with the 2nd grade (when one became a pioneer with great honors and festivity; it was like the communist christening or something). In front of each class stood the class commander. After singing the anthem, all class commanders would go towards the school commander and present him an oral report. That meant telling him or her how many pupils from that class were present and how many were absent. Then the school (unit) commander would report to the head of the school. A big waste of time. After this process they proceeded further.

From time to time we had meetings in different places and we had to go there wearing the uniform and listen to some boring discourses about how happy we were supposed to be and how much cared for by the Party and its beloved son, a man among men, comrade Nicolae Ceausescu. I remember one winter we were transported in a track haul where we were freezing, even if it was not an open one (it had a cover and chairs).

One day, my school had to choose a unit commander (who would have worn a deep blue cord). He or she was elected by voting - children would raise their hands pro or against. And they wanted to choose me and I did not wanted to because that meant a lot of trouble - going to meetings, attending committees etc. For nothing. Did not mean to learn something useful. And as I did not wanted, I started to cry when I saw that I am about to win. And told the lady (who had been my teacher and taught me to read and write) that I do not want to be unit commander. She asked me why but I could not tell her "because you are communists" but that is what I felt saying. But I couldn't because I knew from home that I can't give bad hints about communists. So they chose one of my classmates, a boy who is now in Miami. And I was made a sub-commander meant to replace him if necessary. They gave me a light blue cord.

I also had a lot of metal badges which I regret I had thrown away in 1990. So communism cultivated in us the leadership, since we were small buds on the big oak.

I remember communists movies like "Heroes have no age", "The Freckled" where young or older communists were presented in a favorable light. The movies previously mentioned were ok because the heroes were young and they still had a chance of de-communisation, but in Sergiu Nicolaescu's films the older communists were always better than the rest - the most honorable, the most sincere and brave. And I hate that. I hate good things linked to communism.

Under my colorful poncho-oncho-cho-o-o

2008-08-25T14:26:00.011+01:00

I like London because every day may be different here, you live new experiences more often. Yesterday I went with a friend to an open-air festival with a colorful poncho over my depressed and grey personality.

I had a map in my hand which I was turning upside down if necessary so that the position on the map should match the reality: if a street was on the left, I had to turn the map so that street on the map was also on the left, otherwise I was lost and didn't know which way to go towards my objective. That might explain why I am depressive. You don't know how it is like not knowing how to get somewhere and to forget explanations from 7 passers-by exactly 3 seconds after they passed by. And when I say "passer by" I include a sitting beggar with an Eastern European accent and a can in his hand. A young man with a lot of stamina going on under the blanket in the tube station.

Not only that we were - let's face it - lost but we also made friends with a Serbian lady who was trying to get to the same place where we were going. After a while she gave us up and took a bus. But we didn't see her at the festival later. Maybe she got on the wrong bus. Otherwise we would have seen her deep red lipstick from a distance.

In the "Bar" tent they were playing some jungle music and people were dancing in the tent, in front of the bar. And there was a lady in her late 40s or something like that and she was enjoying herself. She was dancing like there would be no tomorrow. I felt like going and giving her a hug.

While I was taking pictures a guy came to me and started chatting me. I think he explained that he can take pictures with his mobile phone "you know what I mean". And then told me about "the carnival which takes place tomorrow, you know what I mean.[...]* And we jump up and down, you know what I mean. And we are enjoying ourselves you know what I mean. There is nothing wrong with feeling good, you know what I mean." That is correct. I know what he meant. While I was listening and he was talking the dancing lady came to us and introduced herself. I told her I liked the way she was dancing and kissed her on her dark and shiny cheek. I restrained from hugging her because I am too shy. I would like to be like those people, to enjoy life and be able to dance at 4pm on a Sunday afternoon. I sketched 4 steps with the guy holding my hand, but dance was not made for me; my friend and I left for a concert and lost connection with the people at the bar.

At the concert I told my friend that if we disagree with the artists we still have the tomatoes in the bag to express it. Earlier we had passed by a market and there was a deserted big box with big red tomatoes and other two smaller boxes with cherry tomatoes. I picked some and they were very sweet and tasty. So we took about 3-4 of the big tomatoes, just in case. We left and 3 minutes later we returned to the market because we had taken the wrong road. I picked another tomato. It was a ketchup of a journey!

Dance is not for me even if I took prom dance classes at Student's Cultural House in Targu Mures, every Monday and Wednesday (one Monday I decided not to go anymore because I realised I am just as skilled as a broom and not improving; now I regret because with peristence I could have learnt at least some tango). The warm up for the classes was funny: Tchaikovsky - "Swan lake" music and ballet movements. We were so not full of grace... It was a company incentive, I mean we were not paying for that, but the company we worked for and had big hopes to turn us into great Internet dancers.

I got a message from a company who is looking for someone. And told them I can work as self-employed or otherwise I need a work permit bla bla. I replied to them: "I must mention these things because they shorten the process - I never hear from agencies or employers again."

I think Human Resources in the UK (the country where they praise manners, political correctness and other righteous virtues) are a big joke. They don't look at things as the HR dep. is also responsible with the image. A few agencies or employers reply even to unsuccessful CVs. With some of them there is an exchange of e-mails but friendship die after the 2nd e-mail. They do not even bother to reply to e-mails when the candidate is asking about the status of the application (if the process was advanced). In many situations my CV was sent to the agency's client and the consultant was waiting for their response. They never got back at me even if I was in stand by mode. Once it happened to me to be e-mailed that a second interview with me would take place in a couple of days and they would let me know the details (day and hour). So I was waiting and when I asked after a couple of days when would be the second interview I was told the position has been already filled. Which is fine with me but I consider they have a common sense obligation to let people know that no promised interview would take place. It takes 2 minutes to write and send a short e-mail.

But I am not upset, no. I regret I still do not have anosmia anymore to be unable to smell the shyte. I have a colorful poncho I may wear.

EcoClean

2008-08-18T21:09:00.003+01:00

This morning I went to a new client. I rang the door bell and he opened. When I entered and saw how the kitchen looked like I fel like telling a lie that I have just received a phone call and I can't stay... The kitchen was a natural disaster. A mess. It looked like I would have needed 3 hours to clean a tiny messy kitchen like that. I finished in 60 minutes and was happy with the result. The funny thing was that the guy had ecological cleaning products, nothing less. I mean your planet (in this case the kitchen) is uber polluted and you have eco products to clean it. As if it makes a difference...

When I was cleaning the living room he started to play the piano for me. Sonata Patetique and Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody and then "Don't Stop Me Now" while I was hoovering. In the bathroom I asked him: "Do you have bleach?"
"No, because it's not good for lungs."
I wanted to add: "But you don't have to smoke it."
So he had some ecological toilet cleaner smelling of pine like a syrup against coughing.

It was not a bad morning after all; and I asked him to play a song I love: Hungarian Dance by Brahms (I think). So I had it.

A Sunday morning

2008-08-10T13:00:00.004+01:00

What a low life! I am drinking expired Coca Cola, eating pizza (from frozen) and watching "Chalte Chalte" movie. Two Indians who sing and dance in Greece. In between they also speak and get married, following the Hindu rituals which I must confess I searched on Google (the bride's hands are painted with henna, they put flower garlands on each other's neck, they are tied together pieces of clothing and go around the fire which is some god (Agnu or something) seven times, reciting mantras, are being put red turmeric on their forehead etc.).

The film is more than 2 hours long and I did not have the patience to watch it all, so I skipped considerable parts of it. They all end well, like Disney's animation re-makes after fairy tales. In Indian movies they never divorce. Even if they experience marriage prolems, they sort them out before the final credits appear on the screen. They make up usually in an airport or outside, in the pouring rain. I asked my favourite lady if Indians divorce and she told me: "Now they divorce like white people, but before they didn't."

I am going to do something more meaningful with my Sunday, like reading another chapter of "Photoshop CS3 for dummies". For dummies who stay like that. The day announced itself sunny and beautiful in the morning, but now it's cloudy and sad. I skipped a birthday party last night because I was too tired to travel and dance until morning.

Reading about redding in Reading

2008-08-08T20:56:00.005+01:00

I was this close _ to fulfill one of my things before I die: a real football match. Arsenal versus someone on August 16th. One of my clients has a seasonal ticket and he invited me as well, because he remembered I told him once about attending a footbal match like the one seen on TV. But unfortunately I work that Saturday and the match starts at 12:45. He has seats in a posh aisle or something and told me that at half time he is given a glass of wine. And I would be given a glass of wine as well.

While I was applying hair dye on my lady's hair today we were speaking about English language. I was telling her that it's a strange language, with no rules. For example I had the tendency to prononunce Loughton (a tube station in London) as [laftn] or something like that, similar to "enough" [inaf]. And I told her:
"For example reading (the verb) and Reading (the town). They are pronounced differently, even if written the same way." I think I was clear inaf with what I wanted to say.

And she started "But redding is spelt r-e-d-d-i-n-g and is pronounced redding, isn't it?"

"Yes." I gave up and applied a generous layer of colour. Basically this is how our relationship is defined, we go along just fine if we give up conversation.
When I left the house she told me "We'll pay you on Monday, hopefully."

Nobody's perfect

2008-08-06T22:10:00.004+01:00

I started business as usual today and Sikh men look great. There were 3 of them painting the house on the outside. 2 with turbans and one without. The one without looked like Pedro from Mexico. They look virile if you ask me. I could look at them from the inside, while doing my job.

In the morning, my old man was waiting for his new TV set, because the old one died. (I think the TV could have forced itself to live longer because there is no long left, if you know what I mean). At noon two young men came and brought the new plasma TV and took the old one. One of them asked me if I work on X street. I do. e did not say more, but when he left he wished me good luck with the family on street X.

I think my child would look like this one (it will be dark haired, I have no choice; it's not the child one would use in TV commercials, but will be bright; looks a bit scared, but nobody's perfect. I found the picture on blogger's 1st page):

That's the thing

2008-08-04T13:07:00.003+01:00

I contacted some employment agencies via the internet. I received an answer from an agency in Holland and they asked for documents so that they can register me with them. They needed my passport and residence documentation and I told them that my passport was at the Home Office while they were processing my application.

The agency was very eager to register me, so that they sent me about 3 requests for additional information. I told them as soon as I get my passport back, would send a copy. Yesterday I scanned my passport and yellow card and sent it. Their answer is THE answer:

Thank you very much for getting back to me.

Unfortunately, the permit for the UK you send through only allows you to work selfemployed or to pick up a study in the UK.
Blue Lynx is unable to represent candidates without a full working permit and offer them a contract prior to being in possession of a full working permit. The company policy says we can only represent candidate who already are in possession of all legally required documentation.

Should you in future receive your working permit, do not hesitate to contact us with your CV again.

Yeah, in 5 years...

In the window of the convenience store where I usually do my shopping I saw a letter from London ambulance addressed to the shop and they thanked for the £10.43 donation. Shops usually have some boxes on the counter where people can slip some pence. I think I donated about 70p by now. And the good thing in this country is that if I get to the hospital - God forbid! - I don't have to pay extra to nurses or doctors. They just do their job, like anyone employed in a normal world. And maybe their money are not enough for them to do everything they want to do, but they are not asking for extra. This is what I wish for Romania. More than having glitzy shopping centres and Bulgari representative.

How I became a library member

2008-08-04T11:57:00.004+01:00

I lived another experience: became a member of the public library. Took all my documents (passport, Home Office card, NHS card and photos with my family, just in case they ask for identification). I had to fill in a form then sat in front of a lady with some rats on her desk. The rats were in a glass box and were digging among shredded paper. One of them was in a coconut shell. So while she was filling my file on the computer, I looked around me - at the rats and the shelves. Then she started to talk and just wouldn't stop:

I may borrow up to 12 books once. The books are free, but for borrowing DVDs, CDs and audio material I have to pay a fee. I can keep them for 3 weeks and if I do not return them in due course, I have to pay 17p per item per day. If I were over 60 I don't have to pay for the first week overdue. Maybe they suppose at 60 I don't remember having borrowed some books.

After that I went to search for a book worth being taken home. I searched for Jan Kott's but I could not find it on the shelf. And the books there were more or less in alphabetical order. B - C - M - D etc. I went to Travel section and saw a Discovery Channel guide to Romania just next to "Croatia". I had a look at the book and saw Liviu Pancu with an army of actors behind him in a picture in Sighisoara. I think it's a good guide after all. I picked a book about "Italy" and took it home. Next time I will ask the lady how do I get that Jan Kott guy. I heard that if they don't have a book you want, they are ready to order it for you and I suppose all books could be taken home, as long as it is not a 19 century manuscript. In Romania, for every bloody Hemingway short story edition I had to sit in the reading room because that was the only book in the library and could not be taken home.

Anyway, I like the employee's attitude here. They know they are there to serve you, it's not you who is serving them. This is told by me, who is very humble when dealing with any sort of official representatives.
At the bank if the clerk has to put in order some papers or some money and we had to wait for 2 minutes, they apologize to every customer for being kept waiting. They don't have that "you just disturbed me" Romanian attitude. But I still can't feel at ease when dealing with them here. Maybe because I did not grow with nice, respectful clerks.

I found all my tickets (concert, plane, safe sex)

2008-08-03T21:03:00.005+01:00

I have just closed "full screen" window for Wall-e with a sigh. It took me more than 2 hours to see the movie, because I stopped it when I went shopping for pizza, chocolate and canned rice pudding for a perfect slobbish Sunday afternoon. And after having 2 slices of pizza I rolled a cigarette and smoked. Because I felt like smoking one. Yesterday while I was dusting the window sills I was thinking that I would smoke a cigarette. But all I get on a Saturday is some smoke from incense sticks which makes me cough. Autumn leaves smell. And if you burn the stick, you get burnt autumn leaves.

I daresay Wall-e is not as good as Finding Nemo. Some robots with feelings, a fantasy that doesn't equals the one with the clown fish which can talk. And nothing can impress me as the bottom of the ocean in Finding Nemo did.

In an attempt to find my bank statements which apparently I had lost, I took out the bottom drawer and I found underneath the envelope with my last week's concert, the file with all my bank statements, the necessaire with some cosmetics and the Japanese condoms (in this context, "Japanese" means "small") and the ticket for Genoa which - knowing myself by now - I would have declared lost 2 hours before the flight.

What will I be after I die?

2008-07-31T18:56:00.006+01:00

It's the end of the month, I should end my July business accounts (I am the accountant because this country allows me to) but I can't be bothered. There is still time...

In a shop I found Gulab Jamun mix, which is an Indian dessert I sometimes eat at work. Some balls fried in oil and then soaked into a sugar syrup. The mix contains weath flour and powder milk and I just had to add water (the tip on the box said to add milk if I want a rich gulab) and mix the paste. Then with butter or oil on my palms I had to modelate small balls. It took me a while to understand how small is small. A teaspoonfull is small, not what I can grab with 3 fingers. So I made some huge spheres until I understood that size matters.
In the sugar syrup they mention on the box that I should add saffron and cardamom, which I did not have, so I used nutmeg and cinnamon instead.

I worked today, produced some money which I did not see because I would be given a check on Saturday.

It was a hot cloudy summer morning and the girls of the house were playing in their room with the ball. Because they do not have permission to play in the back garden. I never saw them playing there. Because their mother is naturofobic. I am sure the Greeks have a proper word for that, but I am not a Greek, even if I eat houmous from time to time.

Back to my lady - she sees danger behind every leaf and every daisy. I don't understand why they have a garden if it is not used. Only because it is good to have a garden to chat about at social events. And again, this fear of insects I can't understand, especially when your religion is the one with metempsychosis. Think about a lovely ladybird ("They are very good predators" a friend of mine mentions every time we talk about them). It won't give you malaria, won't sting you. In the most unfortunate cases will poop on your finger then fly away. And if you are with the metempsychosis thing, that lovely ladybird could be the deceased auntie of your grandma. Why should one fear the ladybird? Won't sit in the armchair for the whole weekend like auntie did and won't stay in the shower for 15 minutes.

Today I think I killed the whole relatives on paternal line for 2 generations: I had to take off some cobwebs on the patio, so that the spiders did not have time to pack their things and go in an organised manner. Inevitably, I killed some, I am sure. So my karma is ruined and great grandfather's uncle is dead for the 3rd time (the second time he was an ivy, which a man cut off; I think that's just bad luck. C'est la vie again and again a French Hindu would say).

Well, I am not sure about this reincarnation thing yet, because I am immortal so far. But I know for sure I don't want to be some green bacteria on a cheese in a fridge just for the sake of living again. Maybe I am not given the right cheese to set on and then it's all in vain.

I left no web page unsurfed

2008-07-30T16:17:00.004+01:00

The thing is I buy yoghurt and they have a voucher that gives me 40 free photo prints. I have already more than 200 free prints so please find out how many yoghurt I ate and how many vouchers I recycled, because all I need is a code on a piece of paper. After that I digest and eliminate the yoghurt and throw away the voucher. Vanitas vanitatis.

But I have all London in a drawer and I have pictures to give to my parents as well. It does not matter that I ate about a bucket of aspartame (Yes, they have it in Muller Light yoghurts; I think their complete slogan should be "Lick the lid of life until you die" instead of only "Lick the lid of life". And they use in the background Nina Simone's: "I got my hair, I got my head/ I got my brains, I got my ears/ I got my eyes, I got my nose/ I got my mouth, I got my smile/ I got my life [until I die of cancer from aspartame from a cherry flavoured fat free yoghurt]")

Today I spent hours looking for pictures of beautiful Romanian places. I found very impressive ones with Romanian mountains and chalets. And I realised I have been in many places: 7 stairs Canyon, Piatra Mare, Curmatura and Poiana Izvoarelor. Four places are many especially when you have to go on foot. I will have them all in pictures. Some of them are made professionally. Other pictures I could not save.

I am thinking to force myself to eat another 6 pack of yoghurts and also print images of the countryside that no Western world have seen. I found some nice pictures showing an uncle with a rake and hay but they were copyrighted and I could not saved them. I wanted to write to their owner to breathe towards him some raspberry fat free yoghurt smell and ask for permission because I am a poor little soul far away from the country I was born in and I want to keep in pictures the image of simple and attractive Romania. But I gave up, for fear that the American photograph would freak out thinking that I want to use his creation for commercial purposes.

How I almost head a heart attack

2008-07-25T14:04:00.005+01:00

What a nightmare yesterday! It was about time to leave the house for the concert and I realised I lost my tickets. How stupid could one be? They were there for more than a month and when I needed them - they were gone. Luckily I got duplicates...
This week I cleaned my space and maybe my hands threw the tickets away and my mind was not there. Stupid, anyway...

At the concert there were a lot of people in their 50s, decent people with wives who were wearing skirts and looked like they were mothers of three or four and what was impressive was that they all knew the lyrics. All of them, husbands and wives alike. So I think Alice Cooper is as popular as Compact or Semnal M in Romania - everybody knows about.
After the concert I felt like back home, when going home from Peninsula Festival. I could not put up with people talking in English around me.

So, I am happy I lived that. This morning my lady asked me what concert was it and she knew about Alice Cooper. She even sang a bit of "School's Out", said that is one of his famous songs.

I am not an alcoholic

2008-07-23T19:58:00.003+01:00

10 AM and I bought a bottle of whisky and felt like a truly alcoholic. I wanted to tell everybody that it was not for me. My customer asked me to buy one for him.
When I got to his house, the living room was full of smoke so that I opened the window and told him that I would die of lung cancer. Luckily he did not hear me the first time, so that I realised I had used the D word and rephrased. He wanted to spank me with the newspaper.

Later he started to ask me how much other people pay me. And he found out and said "So I get a bargain!" and wanted to give me a raise but I explained to him that he needn't because he pays me for more time and I finish the work in less time, so the price is good.

I received my residence documentation from Home Office today plus a letter that I cannot be an employee without proper documentation; otherwise I will be fined £1,000 or sent to prison for 3 months. I hate when I read "for Romanians and Bulgarians". They created separate departments with lots of money just to make sure they keep us away as much as possible.

101 things to do before I die

2008-07-23T19:17:00.007+01:00

1. Make soap bubbles at least once
2. Go and see the muddy volcanoes in Romania
3. Write a book
4. Get permanent residence in the UK
5. Go on a beach with turquoise sea
6. Get a pet (e.g. a cat)
7. Make 2 children
8. Learn to cook better
9. Get a driving licence
10. Love and be loved like at 20
11. Go to a beauty parlour once
12. Touch a dolphin
13. See a Shakespearean play in English
14. Re-visit Praid salt mine
15. Go to a Guns n' Roses concert (I hear they re-unite without Slash for some concerts)
16. Wear skirts more often
17. Go to church at least once a month
18. Ride a horse
19. Play "Guitar Hero"
20. Read Jan Kott's - "Shakespeare our contemporary?"
21. Go to a real football match (i.e. Steaua-Middlesborough, Arsenal-Chelsea, FCK Moskova-Manchester United, FC Birmingham - FC Warwick, Nicovala Sighisoara - Avantul/Prabusirea Reghin)

(to be continued)

In which I explain why Dracula is better than Fritzl

2008-07-22T19:22:00.004+01:00

While tying some garbage bins I was thinking that it is better for your country to be known for Dracula than for Fritzl.

Why?

Good selection of victims

Dracula did not harm close relatives. And as Coppola puts it, did all for the greatest love of all.

Elegance

Dracula was "absolutno elegantno". You won't see him wearing a bathing suit on a beach in some sex Asian kingdom.
As Coppola puts it, Dracula was so good looking that even Winona Ryder fell for him. To fall for Fritzl one must be tied and taken prisoner into a cellar and still hating him afterwards.
Dracula is voluptuous, does not give you goose pimple when you hear about.

Age

Dracula is older than centuries but he is forever young, as Coppola showed. Dracula does not grow old disgracefully. Fritzl is a shame for his old age.
Dracula "lived" in darker times when everything was possible, there were no social services, nothing of the sort. In Fritzl's times one expects everything should be fine at least in the family's micro-universe or the social services would interfere.

Coverage

In Dracula's time, google, youtube and The Sun were not invented, but apparently Coppola was living to witness facts and put them on the screen.

I had better ideas while tying the black bag, but I think I threw them with it.

"I think I saw a pussycat"

2008-07-22T16:31:00.003+01:00

22, Vad Choth, 2064 (I am doing this until I get bored of calendars).

Something funny happened to me today. On a dating site I got a message from a male (I think he is into S&M because he uses "mistress", like I do to refer to some kind of relationships); he confesses that he is wearing the female underware as I ordered and asks me where to send his picture wearing women tweety pie knickers, "mistress".
Not to me, please. I am into fabrics, but I could skip that.
Oh, and he also sent me the email addresses of the two fat bimbo bitches he hates at work.

...And I was thinking this day cannot offer me anything else...

What shape and colour is tweety pie, anyway? And why me? Of all 20,000 or more women, why me? The site has a rather safe reply system, one couldn't reply to a message and send it to a different profile. He realised his mistake and told me in a different message that nothing was true and that was not my business, which was true in the first place, when he had sent it. But usually I read my emails and I think "tweety pie" is lame. It lacks some recordings of Tweety: "I think I saw a pussycat."

This guy deserves a jolly good spanking.

Kisses and tears,
Mistress

No title

2008-07-21T19:17:00.003+01:00

21, Vad Trij, 2064

This is today's date in Gujarati. In their calendar the year is 2064. No wonder why I feel so old these days... I am - in a way - living in the future, when I am looking at their calendar (which I received today).

Yesterday I was in Greenwich and put the laundry on the wire that was passing over our heads there. Not.
In Time Gallery I felt so "in vain" for this world, when I saw all the gentlemen who invented at least a device to measure time, centuries ago. I did not even invent some detergent for manual wash.

I am tired today. My lady was speaking about "in our cast..." as if it were "in our department..." "We at Sainsbury's..."

All is well that ends well... eventually.

2008-07-16T22:31:00.003+01:00

Today I felt like a scammer. On Friday, one of my families forgot to pay me. On Monday, they forgot to pay me and I was hoping they would remember. Yesterday I remembered and was bracing up to tell them they had not paid me. Today I encouraged myself to remind the lady which I did when I saw her lonely in a corner of the kitchen. Of course she did not do anything about that: if I were her, I would have driven to the nearest ATM to take some cash and pay the human being. Moreover, she started to question me as if I was trying to fraud them. All my answers to her questions were simple: no, no and no.

Later the husband came home and he paid me. About two weeks ago I suggested him that I can take cheques if it is easier for them to pay me (their problem - or what I am told - is that they often don't have cash). He said: "No, it's all right."

In the morning I worked for a different customer who told me he met a person we both know. The poor guy used to work for my family and for other relatives and they all owe him money like £30, £50. They paid him the big part, but they still owe him some... So it is genetic.

Along came a spider

2008-07-12T09:42:00.004+01:00

"Along came a spider" is the title of the new album of Alice Cooper (60 years old), to be launched on July 29th. I think at MY (my, my, my) concert there will be songs from this album. Anyway I stopped at "The last temptation", I did not listen much what followed ("Dirty Diamonds", 2005).

Yesterday I saw on youtube a CNN interview with him. He wanted to open a youth centre in Phoenix. He said drugs are no good and that he chose alcohol in his life, but he is changed now. He chose alcohol because it was legal and available everywhere in the world.

Here is the interview with the man who kissed snakes (if you are interested). He thinks drugs has never worked for any generation. "I don't know one major touring band that is successful and does drugs. If you're a drug addict you are out so fast [...] You are doing a 2-hour show and you can't be on drugs. It's so obvious if you are. If you are a young kid, don't look at that as rock bands are into drugs. We're just not."

"I created Alice to be rock's villain. He's a fictitious character. He's captain Hook of rock'n roll".

The interview:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxcMN3im1sQ

Alice Cooper's Staples commecial:

Marriott Residence Inn Commercial (I find it funny):

The bots of the 21st century. Beware!

2008-07-11T13:54:00.004+01:00

I am just as pathetic as those who travel alone (I am going to Genoa by myself, it's true, but I have family there, so I am not that pathetic).

wolfeeugenio60: :)
me: what?
wolfeeugenio60: Hi
me: hi
wolfeeugenio60: do u remember me? :)
me: no
wolfeeugenio60: it's me, Jenna
me: oh, I see :)
wolfeeugenio60: r u busy this week, i'm looking for a cute guy to have some... fun with ;) ;)
me: I am also looking for a cute guy to have some fun with ;) ;)
wolfeeugenio60: check out my profile 4 my contact info http://www.%68oo%%70%73-r%2dus%2ec%66d

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Actually I remember 2 bots I know from the Internet. One was called Nosferatu, the second one - Okisor (this one even smiled when you said a joke or somethin') and the 3rd bot I know, which I met in person, even danced and talked with - Czke. :)
So that Wall-E do not strike me as odd. There are robots among us. They can initiate conversation, can install Linux on your computer or can fix the Gnome, they drink coffee, eat pizza Sole or some of them want a cute guy to have "some... fun with ;);)"

What they used to write in "Tehnium 2000" or "Stiinta si tehnica" it is true: the 21st century is theirs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brothers, we lived a historical moment!

2008-07-03T23:13:00.004+01:00

By the time I write this, in Romania is already the day of the US and A. But the historical moment is a different one: I got by post my tickets to Alice Cooper's concert. Moreover, the tickets allows me free entrance to London's motor show (some cars, nothing more).

Today coming from work, I saw the black clouds were gathering. I was hoping I get home before rain starts. On my way I entered a shop to buy some food and when I wanted to go out I saw it was pouring. And I was only 132 metres away from home. I went out in the rain, my tennis "almost Converse" shoes were soaked the next minute, the Turk from the kebab shop was making signs for me to shelter in their shop, but I continued my way as in "Manastirea Argesului" (the ballad that first describes divorce the Romanian way -> wall up you wife).

So 132 metres made the difference for me between being wet or not...

But at least I have those tickets to the concert and nothing else matters... And the first historical moment began 2 days ago when I bought a pair of Dr. Martens boots. Ten holes. Priceless.

:D

My blog proudly announces a contest! The ticket above can be yours, provided that you are in London on July the 24th and answer correctly to the question below:

"What is Alice Cooper's real name?"

Post your answers until July the 20th. As a bonus, on the day of the concert I will step on your flipflops/sandals with my newly Dr. Martens.

No wonder you're so crazy about me

2008-06-25T21:04:00.002+01:00

Always keep in mind that no matter what has happened, you did the very best you could. And so did those who may have let you down.

Love,
The Universe

P.S. no wonder we're so crazy about you.

In a magazine I found a quiz an they say: "Give this quiz to the man in your life so thathecan determine his skin type!"

And the questions are like:

In which year did Abba have a hit with "Voulez-vous"?
1977
1979
1981

Erno Rubik invented the Cube in 1974, but in which country?
USA
Germany
Hungary

Who is not a character in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?
Leonardo
Michelangelo
Alfonso

You determine if yo are a 70s child or an 80s child. 70s man has to battle wrinkles and 80s man has stressed skin...

Who am I to disagree?

Gone with the youth

2008-06-24T15:06:00.008+01:00

I think I am fortunate in my life. Never had enough money, my belongings fit into a suitcase and 2 plastic bags but I managed to see many places in Europe. In the future, if I get British citizenship I would like to travel on other continents and I thought of India first and places that a British passport can see easily.

1996

I was teaching that time (English and French) and the school I worked for organized a tour through Europe, the final destination being France.
The first interesting place to see was Budapest. I could not believe there was a European city so close to Romania. (Bucharest did not suggest me much and never did). Then we reached Prague. My memories are blurred because it has been a while, but I remember being on a bridge across Vltava and I remember many pupeteers near that bridge. And some cathedral and Kafka's house on a narrow street.

From the coach I saw some communist buildings in Bratislava but we did not stop there. Then Vienna. With statues, horses and carriages,
Schonbrunn and fancy shops. Then Germany - we spent the night in Ingolstadt (some of the action in Frankenstein happens there) and I remember a long wall with grafitti, the bicycle tracks and Aldi supermarket. Then we visited Munchen and Freiburg. Then France. I could not believe that was the border. And nobody stopped us: Strasbourg with some transparent trams, policemen followed the Romanian coach and controlled us. I think just because it was a Romanian number; the coach was full of kids and teachers. The oldest teacher was 80 or something and we were afraid he would die on the way. He survived the trip anyway.

Paris was something I liked. I knew parts of it from books. And maybe I like France more because I can speak the language and I can read the words on shop windows. I was disappointed by the Eiffel Tower and I found it a bunch of metal. It was my hippie stage of life so that the visit to Pere Lachaise and Jim Morrison's tomb was priceless. Around Moulin Rouge there were so many sex shops (one of them was called Sexodrome) I could not believe; anyway I did not get into any because it was a "cultural" trip. I would have not set a good example.

Then Lyon - we climbed a lot of stairs to Basilique de la Fourviere or something...

What is unforgettable is Carcassonne - a huge citadel. I have never seen someting like that. It was wow. Luckily we walked inside it and it was like any other medieval citadel with restaurants and souvenir shops. Then Avignon, sur le pont, on y danse tout en rond. We stopped in Gascogne for a couple of days, we stayed with some French families. D'Artagnan was from that area, Condom is there and also Nostradamus studied in Auch.

Then on the way home we passed by Sete near the Mediteranean sea. It was April, unsuitable for bathing. In all my pictures I was jumping with joy. Even my sister, who was in her mid 30s was jumping with me. And we all know, married women with 3 children take their life too serious and don't jump easily.
On my way home, just 40 km from home I discovered I had chickenpox and of course I gave it to half of the bus.

2000:

Me and my boyfriend decided to go to France and maybe Spain. Backpacking. We arrived at the coach station in Eastern Paris in the afternoon. I found some hostel phone number to stay for the night, I called them, made use of my French so well, that the voice asked me in what languages would I prefer to speak: English, Spanish? The hostel was full so that we stayed in the tube station for the night. We slept on the floor but we were not the only ones to use the tube station passage (the station was closed at midnight); there were some Japanese who came to sleep there.

The next day it was 14th of July. We decided it would be wise to hitchhike for Toulouse. We decided that Porte de Versailles would be the right place for cars and trucks on their way to Toulouse. It was not. The drivers were all smiling at us because maybe "Toulouse" on a piece of paper was science fiction. So we had to go to a railway station and take a TGV. We got in Toulouse (Matabiau- I know the name because I have a picture taken on one of the platforms). I was tired and hated the whole country because they did not have late evening trains to Auch - where we wanted to go. One of the railway station employees came to me and told me we had to leave the station because it will be closed. It was 11 or midnight. I could not beliveve it and had no reaction. "Did you hear me?" "Yes, I did."
So we slept outside on the platforms. In the morning we took a train to Auch and that lead us to a normal bed in our friend's house.

Our friends have a holiday house in Biarritz so that they took us there. I have been into a casino for the first time and I ate some "crevettes grises" with baguettes and white wine (the wine was good to cut the nausea). From Biarritz the guy took us to Spain: he let us in the railway station of Irun and there has been no ETA action while we were waiting for the train to Valladolid. In Valladolid we stayed at friends, of course (in a small village near Valladolid - Santovenia de Pisuerga). A nice family with a son called Israel. After 4-5 days we left for Salamanca and Madrid. Spain was something I liked, I felt it close to me. I would like to return there one day. Back to France, this time to Marciac, where the International Jazz Festival is held every year.

2006:

A train trip to Slovenia. I saw Zagreb from the train, the Vegeta Podravka factory in Croatia, changed train in Ljubljana and almost sleeping I arrived in Koper. I liked Koper. The Adriatic sea was tamed; I have never seen a sea such well behaved.

2008:

Grange Hill and Buckhurst Hill, Essex, London, on a daily basis. Day trips to Winchester, Windsor, Matlock, Brighton.

This is me, the traveller.

SOS for the Romanians in Italy

2008-06-20T22:10:00.002+01:00

http://sospentruromaniidinitalia.ro/mesaje/spotul-campaniei/

I ignored the Donatella Versace-like beauty who speaks about sigurezza... And I don't know who is the man who says "Viva la liberta"; the label says "Berlusconi".

Maybe I am not going to Genoa after all. They won't let me in.

The world in a bus

2008-06-20T13:21:00.004+01:00

Me in the bus this morning. I was sitting behind a Romanian couple. Listening to the man talking on the phone, asking about some people and if they were ok. He seemed a good man to me. Was complaining that everything is expensive here: the rent, the utilities, life itself.
After he hang up started to talk with the woman. I was afraid they would start talking something I do not want to know. They were talking about what to have for dinner tonight; that was better.

The bus got to the next station and a large group of Asian women got on. They started to talk noisily like some geese. Cluck-cluck-cluck (I do not know what sounds make the geese in English, but I must learn these things until I get British citizenship). The Romanian couple got off and instead a black teenager got on. He took a coin out of his pocket and started to scratch some plastic edge in front of his chair. He was not satisfied by the coin and took a biro and went on writing or scratching. In the meantime, the Asian were clucking and a blonde teenage girl, proud of her breasts was preparing to get off. But she was looking insistently at the black boy. He was ignoring her. She was looking at him. The Asians went cluck-cluck-cluck. The blonde girl started to go down the stairs, looking for the last time at the black young man but in vain. The Asians went cluck-cluck-cluck noisily.

The only person who behaved, did not disturb the others, did not want to borrow the biro for a quickie, produced no damage for London transport was me. On a larger scale, statistically, whose reputation is the worst? Mine. Who scared the Brits and made them put restrictions and create separate departments to deal with applications? Me.

Picture this: me in Genoa

2008-06-20T08:26:00.003+01:00

This is what they will tell me at the customs in Genoa, on September 2nd when I land on the Pecorino* airport. And I quote:

"Ooh, la, la! Where did you get that tan?! Is that your passport? You know Prince Charles?!"

*I am not so sure about the "oh, la, la" though. And the name of the airport must be different, like Cipolino or Reciotto della Valpolicella, I don't know exactly...

Polly says her back hurts

2008-06-19T17:23:00.003+01:00

I got to work, the lady explained to me why I couldn't come last week, but I did not understand her Emglish at all; I understood only "emergency" "my husband" and "I am sorry". Then told me (and I understood her perfectly) that she ironed some of the clothes last week and her back hurt like hell afterwards. She was wondering how I can do it. My back also hurts every time, but she can't help me if I say anything.

My God! I've just seen a banner with "Gaydar. Detect gays near you, on your mobile." Why would I want to detect gays near me? For backdoor delivery. Or to park the bicycle on the dirt track. Or to use the chocolate escalator. (Long live Catherine Tate!)

International Year of Languages

2008-06-19T10:18:00.004+01:00

I discovered "Descopera" (www.descopera.ro) magazine and I like it very much. I read about Hrushchov, Brejnev as if they would be our history darlings. NOT. I know one of them died while I was a child and they broadcast the funeral on TV in black and white. And then we dicussed about that as children. I still remember where I was exactly, in front of which house (I am home sick).

2008 is The International Year of Languages and I found an interesting article about languages:

"Daca vom fi siliti sau ispititi ca intr-o zi sa parasim limba romana, primul eveniment din viata noastra ulterioara va fi acela ca nu vom mai auzi niciodata de Eminescu. Apoi de Romania. Apoi de noi insine.
Sper ca in acest An International al Limbilor sa nu ne descurajeze faptul ca, deocamdata, singurii vorbitori de limba romana suntem noi, romanii. Daca o vom sti face cu farmec, acuratete si cu dragoste in continuare, o vor vorbi si altii."

In English it is like that, more or less: "If we are forced or tempted one day to leave the Romanian language, the first event in our life will be that we will never hear about Eminescu again. Then about Romania. Then about ourselves. During this International Year of Languages I hope we won't be discouraged by te fact that for the time being the only speakers of Romanian are us, Romanians. If we can do it with charm, accuracy and love, others will also speak it."

I was having fun

2008-06-19T09:45:00.003+01:00

Do you know why koala bears are so cute? Why ospreys dance in flight? Why cheetahs run so fast? Arctic terns fly so far? Flowers smell so good? Blueberries taste so blue? Butterflies flit? Parrots talk? Whales sing? And doves coo?
Because I was having fun. Which is my greatest wish for you in all you do.

You can,
The Universe

P.S. And none of it cost me a dime!

I was having fun myself, but I did not have the audience... Yesterday I changed the bed sheets at the old man's and as he was sleeping in the armchair in the living room, I put the little teddy bear under the duvet.
When the man woke up, told him that he has tenants in his bed. Since he is not using it, others do. "I have what?" (he can't hear properly or maybe it's just my English). "Tenants." "What?" "TENANTS." "What tenants?" "The teddy bear". He smiled a bit. "Who put it there?" "I don't know, he walked there." Then I had the teddy walk back to its place, not to make the man walk extra steps beause of us.

Heart of oak

2008-06-18T18:48:00.006+01:00

If Home Office doesn't hurry with my application, I am afraid some of the people who provided references for me may die. I asked the old man for references and in the last couple of weeks he has not been too well.

And the social worker told when visited him: "No, at almost 90 you are not old nowadays." No, you are not old at 90. You are just having a middle age crisis and want to divorce, now that your children passed away, so that divorce won't make them suffer.

Actually in this country, old people are different from what I know. The other day I saw in a shop a very old lady (must have been 80 or 85) dressed in a happy-pink tracksuit, with big gold earrings and pink lips. I wanted to pinch her cheek and tell her "You look like a little girl from preparatory school. Preparatory for the big passage, you know." She only lacked a motto (all schools here love mottos, if possible in Latin) like: "In pectore robur" (heart of oak). Maybe the essence of the heart is the answer... "In pectore laminatur"*

With my lifestyle and with my legs and ankles that hurt today, I should consider myself lucky it I live by 40 in a pair of blue jeans (I don't need a pink tracksuit).

________
*heart of laminate

Digital blog

2008-06-15T18:29:00.002+01:00

Once the sun rose for summer, the pavements of the city are invaded by toes of all sizes, sexes and shapes. A good looking man is reduced in my eyes to nothing by a pair of flip-flops. All his masculinity and the bucket of testosteone he is carrying are cancelled by a strap between his toes.

I wasn't and still I am not at ease when it comes to publicly exposing my toes. A friend of mine from high school shared the same feeling and we used to look the city's toes and make fun of them. At that time I was a rock chick and spent the summer with army boots. I am still staring at stranger's toes whenever I have the chance.

This morning I saw an Essex girl with goth make up, sophisticated hair-do, some black and white clothes and when I looked down I saw a neon-pink pair of flip-flops and everything collapsed. Nothing could have saved my world in the bus station. She ruined my day.

This is a Welsh blog: Eewqe qwyqwynnt wrwyyrqwt h

2008-06-12T14:22:00.006+01:00

In my inbox, I had some e-mails waiting for me. One subject line told me that I can win an Audi A3, another one told that I qualify for scholarship money. No bigger boobs or bigger willy this time.

Last week at work I was zapping in search of a more interesting TV channel and I reached some Welsh TV channel. The name of the TV programme was formed mainly by consonants without vowels. I found on the Internet some newspaper names in Welsh. They look like that:

Y Dinesydd (The Citizen)
Cwlwm (The Knot)
Y Ffynnon (The Spring)
Y Rhwyd (The Net)
Tafod Tafwys (The Tongue of the Thames) - for Welsh learners in London

I am sure "qwerty" means something in Welsh. Or when I was writing some sample text like "qwqeeewqwqw wqqwwewr wereerewwq wkqwk wkwk lqkqlkq" in Welsh it meant actually "the party would fight the seat at the next general election". You can't tell it isn't so.

I get up early every day.
Codaf yn gynnar bob dydd. - literary Welsh
Dwi'n codi'n gynnar bob dydd. - Colloquial Welsh

Notre poule dans votre cour

2008-06-12T12:15:00.003+01:00

Right this moment I am chewing a chicken doner kebab and I am thinking the Turkish guy is trying to kill me with the chili sauce. I mean he asked me - Chili sauce? and I said yes. I was thinking that I had it about 6 months ago and wht did not kill me then, made me stronger.

Yesterday I was to the launching of an album about Transylvania. I did not buy it because its price was like the price of 4 albums of Dali, Monet, Ukraine and Greece.
But I saw some pictures projected on a wall, so I have an idea about what does the album contain: Transylvanian villages, house interiors from Maramures, old man with a stray hat, horses, shepherds etc. More than just pictures with renovated houses from Brasov, Sibiu and Sighisoara. After the presentation I ate some "albinitza" cake. They also had "Amandine" and "dobos", I think. And Romanian wine, of course.

In The Guardian there is an interesting article about Romania, which filled my heart with joy after I read it. Today I read that some French sports journalist who commented the match between France and Romania called the Romanian players - "voleurs de poules" (gainari) which I find offensive, since football players in the national team make money to buy a whole farm, if they please. We are "francophones", we can speak French. e.g. Notre poule dans votre cour.

Here is what The Guardian say: "The demonisation of Romanians by European leaders and opinion-formers reveals something more historic than old-style anti-immigrant prejudice: it also exposes the hollow rhetoric of EU bureaucrats and EU supporters, and suggests that for them "Europe" means a small, sensible elite discussing their Tuscany holiday homes over a latte in Brussels rather than low-skilled men and women moving from the east to the west to find work, build a home, start a family. While British, Spanish, Italian and other European leaders pay lip service to the idea of "European unity" and to historic European values such as liberty and fraternity, in reality they are overseeing the creation of a Europe divided between a civilised west and an uncivilised east.

In fact, Romanian migrants embody the spirit of European unity far more than those cobwebbed, crusty bureaucrats in Brussels or anti-immigrant leaders in Britain and Italy. In taking the risky decision to leave home, to venture across Europe, to learn new languages (Italian, Spanish, English), and to make friends and meet new lovers as they go, Romanian migrants have shown themselves to be truly cosmopolitan, open-minded and daring. In attempting to thwart this movement from the east to the west - by turning Romania and Bulgaria into unequal members of the EU and by instituting stringent immigration controls - national and European leaders have shown themselves to be prejudiced, authoritarian and consumed by fear of "the other".
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/may/23/trueeuropeans

Merry Loo (I can't go on singing without you)

2008-06-05T19:30:00.004+01:00

I reached a point in my life where I can eat in the toilet, while I am at work. Yesterday I was working and chewing some bruschetti (whatever) in the man's toilet. It felt like I was eating in front of the computer:I was at work. I became like the gynecologist who has just finished an apple while I was arranging myself on the bed. I could not understand her for years... Then I used to think there are a few strict places where one can eat.

After I arranged the old man's bed I took one of his small teddy bears and put it on the pillow. It was funny to see a small creature there. But I was thinking - he is old, he may not like that. So I put the teddy away, where it had been.

Where on Earth should I go: to India or Genova?

2008-06-03T19:02:00.005+01:00

I was mopping the kitchen floor and my lady asked me: "What do you usually have for breakfast?" I think she was looking at me while eating, after she just got out of the gym. If one loses weight, 5 minutes later it must be put back. "Nothing." Because this morning I did not have breakfast, only my coffee. I usually have roasted patience* in the morning.

While she had been in the gym I had to ask her a question so that I entered and saw her watching TV. Some people! And I am sure it was not Cindy Crawford with her "Shape your body workout", but a film with Victorian ladies.

Today I had to color her hair again. But this time she admitted that I am not only the housekeeper, doing all the work in the house (who's your daddy?), but I am also the hair stylist.

Sunday I visited the Hindu temple in Neasden, North London. It is the largest Hindu temple outside India and it is something different from the Christian prayer houses I've seen. So once in a lifetime it's worth to see it. It is huge, a lot of marble. We had to take our shoes off and step barefoot. Women wearing saris and children were sitting on the floor of the temple. I think that a trip to India must feel like that, even if I might never go to India. But hey! I am going to Genoa in September. For a whole week. I already started to say goodbye and shake farewell hands with my mistresses. But I bet they will forget by the end of August, so I must remind them again.

____________________
*rabdari prajite

I look 59, I'm just a child

2008-05-31T11:45:00.003+01:00

Ladies and gents, the uncle in the picture is Jason Donovan, 39. What the hell happened to him since "Especially for you"? Didn't he hear of botox like buddy Kylie? Or maybe he should change his diet before he will get a 70 year-old look by the time he hits 41.

Grease is the word

2008-05-30T20:51:00.006+01:00

Monday May 26: Bank Holiday. No sunshine, no work. No work, no money. No money, no curry.

Tuesday May 27: I don't remember anything about this day.

Wednesday May 28: No sunsine, yes work. Yes work, no sleep. I was almost falling asleep with the iron in my hand.

Thursday May 29: I just got into the lady's house, she and the kids were having breakfast, I had had breakfast 30 minutes earlier and she asked me: "Do you want some breakfast?". "No, thank you. Do you need me to babysit on Saturday, that is why you offer me breakfast?" (usually she does not ask me if I want to eat or not). Later she left to the hairdresser and I was supposed to iron and look at (not "after") the house's children plus the neighbours' children who were playing together in the backyard and in the forest near the house. Every time they got out the forest I was counting them like the ducklings, to find out if someone was missing. They started to carry buckets of water into the forest either to save the rainforest (it had rained the night before) or to help a "great expectations" escaped convict. Children playing in the forest could be fine in a world without Stephen King.

Friday May 30: My nagging lady told me to clean the bath tub (which I always do) because it is slippery and her daughter almost fell. "Make sure you clean the grease." I was looking at her with a stupid face and did not know what to say. I was thinking "are they frying in the bathroom or having a shower?". These things always are slippery when wet. After I cleaned it I almost slided myself. And if I fall it's a tragedy, because I don't have a father here to catch me if I fall, to cater for my needs and to support me if my legs are in plaster.

Sit and drink Pennyroyal Tea, I'm anemic royalty

2008-05-27T13:45:00.003+01:00

Today I heard so many "Come here for a minute" that at some point I started to roll my eyes disapprovingly every time I had to stop whatever I was doing and take a trip 3 rooms away or downstairs. I went there to see what? How the lady was meditating about what sheets to put on the bed and another minor reasons.

Kurt Cobain came at the door and brought a new matress from Harrods. Well, not quite Kurt Cobain (God rest his soul), but a grunge looking young man. He came with the gardner. When I opened the door I felt like a bloody aristocat, because it is me the one who is indoors, in the warm place, while they are outside in the rain or whatever the weather may bring.

Before leaving told the lady that she looks suffering (she has a cold). She said she must take the pills, but she had something to do in the kitchen. "If I don't do things in the house, who will?!". "Me?"

On food (because I know better than any chef who wrote a book)

2008-05-18T09:57:00.005+01:00

London's crowded pubs in the evening remind me of queuing for bread in communist times. It was children's job to wait there, with a bag and the card, on which the shop asistant would mark an X for every bread sold to your family. My family's ratio was 3 loaves for 2 days (one loaf of bread for two days for me, one for my mother and one for my father).

We were lining up while the bread was still in the factory. That was the first climax of the queue: the bread was not even in the oven and we were waiting for it. The bigger climax was when the van arrived. We still had to wait until they would onload the loaves and arrange them on the shelves. It was smelling of hot bread. I remember one loaf was 5.50 lei and until we got home we ate some bits of it.

I had the same feeling in a pub in Chelsea last night. With all the people crowding to get somewhere. Or nowhere.

Then in early 1990s one day almost all shops were closed for inventory, they said. It lasted 2 or 3 days. When they re-opened, the prices were huge. The shops turned into museums - you go in and have a look, but you are not supposed to touch. Because you can't pay for a bottle of coke. And this lasted for years. In the last years maybe things got better (than in early 90s) in Romania, but not much better.

In a way, rumours of prices going up in London do not scare me. I lived in various situations in my short life. They scare those who fill up their trolleys at Tesco (and they are only 3 or 4 in the family but feel like there is no tomorrow for the yoghurt so they have to buy it all today).

Britain's got white teeth

2008-05-15T15:53:00.003+01:00

Yesterday I took a pair of wedges to a shoe repair shop. In these situations I think of the phrases they have in a conversation guide. But those convesation guides are meant for tourists who hardly go to a shoe repair shop in this world. But it's good to know the phrases, just in case your shoe sole might need being fixed.
The man was Indian and had teeth "Simon Cowell" white. Maybe that suede cleaning sprays I saw on the shelf clean the teeth as well... Britain's got talent and craftmanship.

Yesterday I almost bumped into two Chinese women who were speaking their language (as I would speak my language with another Romanian person) an was thinking that a while ago, when Britain was invaded by Indians, Pakistanis, Africans etc., people here must have had a strange feeling when one morning they did not understand what other people were talking in the bus, in the street or in shops. Luckily (for no one), Romanians are the last to come here and it does not surprise anyone. What difference does another language make?

L'Oreal - Because you worth it...

2008-05-14T07:58:00.004+01:00

...But what did I do to deserve this? The other day the lady asked me to colour her hair. So I had to make hairdresser conversation and found out how long she has been married for, that when she hired me she interviewed another 3 people, but she did not like them - one of them did not have experience, references. The only thing I liked about her was that she ased me if I intend to do cleaning for a long time? I said no. And she did not freak out.

Then told me that professional hair coloring would cost her 40 pounds and 3 hours spent in the hair salon. As if she has anything else to do, more important than just sitting on a chair. Anyway, I think they save money because they intend to buy a Quashquai. I saw some price quotes printed from the internet. But the fines would cost them more than hair coloring. So as Romanians say: what you save on apples, you spend on pears.

After aplying the color on her hair, of course I had to do all the usual cleaning, nothing less. I was cleaning the cooker hood, was up on a chair, she came in and told that it was very good that I was doing that. "My husband asked you to do that, didn't he?". "No, he didn't. I have a clean conscience. I tend to clean what is dirty."

A note from the Universe

2008-05-08T17:31:00.002+01:00

I'm not Einstein but Universe is my friend and has been writing to me for 3-4 years, every day. Today he wrote about a handmaiden (I don't know what that job is: basically is a maid who gives a hand job, doh! And after that probably she goes to the door, as I guessed from the context):

Do you have any idea how many princesses have gone unrecognized by their prince, because of logic? Or, how many princes have gone unrecognized by their princess, because of pride?

How many dreams were dashed when the handmaiden answered the door? Or when the gatehouse was mistaken for the mansion? Or when the calm before the storm of abundance and good fortune was viewed as a sign to retreat?

Happily, Bianca, we've got forever and ever. And fortunately, it's never too late to see what one's missed, remain focused on the dream instead of the "hows," and move with unwavering faith.
Yeeeeeee-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!
The Universe

P.S.: Oh no, don't feel sorry for the handmaiden! She stuck around, Bianca, her prince showed up, they inherited the mansion and were showered in good fortune forever and ever.

About life and death

2008-05-05T14:35:00.002+01:00

In the last couple of days only coffee and redbull keep me alive and kicking. Last night I've been to a party where I was the only representative of my continent. They hired a catering company with a Chinese chef and a Pakistani co-ordinator. I tasted chili paneer, lamb kebab and Amritsari fish. These were the starters, but I did not have the time to taste the main course because I had to wash about 70 plates plus glasses. For dessert the chef made rice pudding and carrot halwa and we cut strawberries in half. It was very interesting the whole work.
The chef could not speak English, even if he tried. So I went to him in order to ask for something sweet and started to present me some fried spheres "chi nam tu ne tai kin rej." "Is it sweet?" He moved his head as in "yes" ad gave me one and it was not sweet. I wanted a special sweet Indian sphere... But I got it in the end.

I washed some plates and on the bottom I discovered it was written "Romania". They were the plates of the house :D They bought them to assort with me.

The Pakistani guy told me that thes are posh people and they start parties late. When I am washing someone's toile and see them in the house half naked, I can't think of them as posh. So the "posh" description did not impress me. At about 2 am some guys started to sing as if they were reciting from the Quaran. Strange, anyway.
Some saris were nice. And my lady was nice in a little black dress.

At the beginning of the party a friend called me to tell me some bad news. The organizer of the Hungarian classes I used to attend - died. And my student colleague died in a car accident. So half of the class died. I did not have the time to think about this at the party. I remember we had a lot of fun when doing exercises about going on holidays or calling customer service. And I remember last time I saw Steve I was on a bench outside in the sun, waiting for the teacher and he was smoking. We had a small talk and then we split our ways and said good-bye. He was supposed to bring me yesterday the book with Szent Pal utcai fiuk and the DVD with the movie. :( He died last Tuesday. It's the second time that someone dies and I regret I did not think of a proper and a more heartful good-bye when I got the chance.

Apfel Strudel in the basement

2008-05-02T18:13:00.006+01:00

I did not speak to anyone for about 5 hours today. I was scared in the house, scared of some f****** agony uncle called Fritzl. Last night I chose to read some dirty and diabolique things about the above mentioned Fritzl (the one we all can read these days) and then I saw some author mentioned Fred West and I googled his name and found out that he killed about 30 people in England, including his daughter and other relatives and it took police 6 years or something like that to suspect him. Ask google for more, don't ask me. In Fritzl's case I saw he risks 15 years of prison. 15 years? He kept so many people in prison for more than 20 and he's getting 15? This bloody privacy and Germanic-kin coldness is not too good. No way. I mean as a Fritzl Frau, I would have asked Joseph: "Dear Johann, I want to put some sauerkraut in the barrel, take me to the basement to see if there is place for it an for the pickled cucumber jars." They had a bloody tenant who said he could hear at times noises and children voices from down there. And also last night I read that the wife had helped Fritzl to take the food down there - up to that door (one tenant declared) and the husband used to spend nights in the basement.

I mean once in a lifetime you go down into the basement. In my grandmother's I was 6 or 7 times. She had apples on the shelves. In my sister's basement I was 3 or 4 times to bring some Kartoffeln into the house and I also saw apples, carrots, wine and empty jars. And it was cold in winter and cool in the summer. In our basement I have been 8-10 times and I saw shovels and spades, my father's tools for gardening. I was scared, especially when the basement door was unlocked on a permanent basis and I had heard rumours about fugitive inmates in the area. But our basement had some bars only, one could see inside it.

My ex-landlord used to go into the basement and would come out smelling of palinca.

The idea is that people do things in their basements, but they share or give the opportunity to be seen, they invite their neighbours/friends or their neighbours spy on them and find out. With the Romanian sense of community and neighbouring, one can't keep 7 ants prisoners because the whole building would know the 2nd day :) In a way I prefer this way of being, because nobody shits the flag at least, as they do in Austria.

As a conclusion I made some Apfel Strudel-like something. I am sure it originates there somewhere, in Austria. Dirty, diabolique kidnappers also originates there. Umm... Heidi was from Switzerland or Austria? If she originates from Austria, I suggest an investigation, because with that old grandpa of hers, we can't be sure these days...

Gulliver for a day

2008-05-01T18:28:00.003+01:00

On Orthodox Sunday Easter (April 27) I was a Gulliver for about an hour, in a model village in Beaconsfield - a village with small houses, a small golf club, small farm, small hay piles and small railway stations. It was nice! I had a normal size Magnum (ice cream, not the gun) which I could not cope with, so I threw the last bit of it in a normal size bin.

In the last two days I get out of the house and I live what Donald duck has lived. While I am in the house, the sun is shining, birds are singing, London is happy. After I get out the house, by the corner of the street it starts to rain or it hails.

Today I saw one of my dearest ladies with tears in the eyes. With an alcohol breath she told me she had a bad day. Later on sent me to the nearest gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes. £5.95 (for my overseas readers). When life is too good for people, they freak out. I was thinking: she has everything, why is she upset? Has children, a man, a house. She does not have to work, stays at home the whole day. She doesn't even have to take her pyjamas from the floor in the morning. Has holidays in some places I only heard of in my 7th grade during geography classes. Drives a convertible Mercedes. She has several lives in front of her unlike me, who will die at 86 in normal mode, 103 in optimistic mode or 43 in pessimistic mode. And I won't reincarnate in anything, as I am told - so I must clean while I'm alive and crowd all my plans in this life.

As an apprentice, I think it is good to be active, otherwise you feel your life empty - children grow up and they fly away, hubby will go to golf more and more often, whisky bottle empties more and more quickly. I believe in woman's dedication to her family if this does not mean watching TV for hours and talking on the phone also for hours. And I also believe in pottery classes or taking up knitting or something like that, with immediate results.
But in the end - what do I know? I was Gulliver for an hour, was above those little houses and shops and I did not know anything.

Easter is coming

2008-04-25T21:19:00.006+01:00

Google is something: I searched "sfat cum sa fierbi ouale" (because I needed tips about how to boil eggs without cracking their shell - what do eggs have, anyway?) and wise google said: "Did you mean: fast cum sa ferbi boule".

I got a raise in the end and a present for my birthday from the one I least expected. So that kept me motivated these days and I did my best. After I finished today I let a note saying that I can't come on Monday because it's Easter (Orthodox Easter), so see you on Tuesday. 3 hours later she called to tell me that easter had been a few weeks ago and she presumed I work for somebody else on Monday, which is an important day for her.

In a different house, few weeks ago I discovered that the picture with the ex-wife on the wedding day disappered from the fireplace and a few black bags with clothes and shoes were upstairs. Today I found them downstairs, closer to the front door. A Louis Vuitton bag had reached already the bin.

I'm tired. I painted some Easter eggs this afternoon:

Shitake mushrooms

2008-04-19T08:57:00.002+01:00

I babysat last night and played Wii football. My team was Blackburn and it played versus Tottenham. I did not win but it was fun.
Then read a book about a tiger who came to tea (joined the mother and daughter) and ate all the food and drank all the water from the tap. And when the father came home he did not have what to eat, so he suggested they should go to a cafe and have supper. Which they did, they had sausages and ice cream. And shitake dried mushrooms. After that I read about Horrid Henry, who makes every woman want a hysterectomy.

When I took the taxi home, told the name of my street and the driver asked me: "You're not Romanian, are you?". He has Romanian friends that I know. It's a small world after all.

New York! New York!

2008-04-18T18:49:00.004+01:00

A man I never saw before came today and was in the kitchen, making himself a coffee, after asking me where the cups were. He asked for milk, I took 2 bottles from the fridge, he asked me to read the expiry date from them: "14 April" on the first. "Kaput" he said. "16 April". "Kaput. Throw them!". Luckily I found another valid bottle.
"Where are you from?"
"Romania."
"I've been to Romania when I was a child. Maybe you were not even born. In 1974..."
"I wasn't born. And how did you find it in florishing communist era?"
He had been a child, he forgot.
"In what city or region were you?"
"Not far from Budapest."
"Oh, I see."
Maybe he was not to Romania after all. I was thinking that either he was to the Western part of Romania or to no Romania at all...

My lady is back, the son confessed he is in love with New York (how gay is that?!) and he gave me some cupcakes he had made. They were good, with some vanilla soft&very sweet icing (how gay is that?!). He was watching Fashion TV (how gay is that?!) and I heard him "Ma, it's your favourite woman on TV!" I was dying to find out who that might be - Victoria Beckham, of course. How gay is that?!

The Darjeeling Limited my sleep

2008-04-17T09:10:00.003+01:00

Last night I drank some darjeeling tea because I was curious of how it might taste and I could not sleep afterwards.

I found by chance the following video on youtube and I clicked and saw that Madonna is cleaning (better put - was cleaning at the moment of shooting). I would not want to be her sofa... Anyway, I expected to see her spreading her legs in Ashtanga or Pilates style she learnt at her gym, but to my surprise she is hoovering:

Twist of fate: am I Oliver Twist or what?

2008-04-16T18:02:00.005+01:00

This is me forever, one of the lost ones, the one without a name without an honest heart as compass.

Today I was thinking I am more comfortable with my spoken English because now I initiate conversations with strangers more easily. Something I did not feel one year ago when I was still in my cocoon. I went shopping today and I saw a card inserted in the machine and told the cashier that it was a card there and if it should have been there. He asked me if it was mine, I said no. I'd have loved to have a richer card, thank you, but that was not mine. Show me the one saying that Romanians are credit cards and identity thieves and I would show you Paris by night.
Good, I just practised my indirect speech and sequence of tenses. Checked!

This week I got my share of swearing from a guy, been called a gipsy and sent back into my filthy country. He was from Midlands, I don't know where is that exactly, but with a little GPS support and a bit of help from the Moldavian rackets, I could give the guy a sociology lesson with no tuition fee. Joking.

My old man drank about 3 glasses of whisky and soda while I was there and then he made efforts to understand what I was saying. Well, I don't blame him here, nor the whisky. I asked him how much would be the driving lessons in this country and he asked me if I wanted to go for it. Nope. Then why are you asking, you silly girl? Because I wanted to make conversation while dusting. Later the TV was on and a black and white movie and I asked what film was it, if it was one of Hitchcock's by any chance (the only black/white director I know). It was "Only angels have wings" by I don't know who, starring Cary Grant and a blonde lady, a plane and a dying actor. Sequence of tenses checked twice!

Then he sent me to buy Classic cigars and Daily Mail. What a combination! People choose the life they want to live...

More than just a... HANDFUL

2008-04-15T14:51:00.004+01:00

I endured heat today because on my T-shirt is written (right on my chest) - "...more than just a handful" and I cannot wear that in England. Because they have a different measurement system and I am not sure of how big is a handful here, exactly. And I don't want to be Pamela Anderson malgre moi, nor Keira with two hole-like boobs. So I did not dare take my coat off, besides my zip was up to make sure no "handful" is in sight.

Summertime, and the living is easy. Fish are jumping and the cotton is high. Your daddy's rich and your ma is big spender. So hush, little baby, doncha cry. In the morning I was looking at the cars in the street and at the drivers of all ages and social conditions and was thinking that life is easier in this country. And if life is easier, one feels like singing about how high is the cotton and how high can fish'n chips jump.

Rockstars (e.g. Iggy Pop, Jon Bon Jovi) and Chapati Flour

2008-04-14T21:00:00.002+01:00

If there is something I hate in this world is ironing smart trousers (the ones with a pleat or seam) and ironing bed sheets (the English ones, with elastic band on the corners; if I were asked to tell the truth, they don't even need ironing, because once you put them on the bed it's all straight like Madonna's facelift - no crumples or wrinkles).

Oh, and bloody goth shirts with pleats, applications and fashionable sleeves from centuries ago, ironed with Tefal. Felt like working for Goethe, in London 2008.

I have a point connected to the iron: one of my many ladies showed me how to do her husband's trousers and then added: "You will know how to iron your husband's trousers." But the thing is my husband will be a rockstar, not a dentist, so he'll wear only jeans and leather trousers:

"'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleach blond hair"

On the other and, I understood that the price of chapati flour increased and is also rationalised: one bag of 10 kilos per customer/family. I did not undrestand exactly why, because the English was not so good, but I am sure she also mentioned something about basmati rice.

I don't know why I am meant to live the last days of this world, holding a Tefal steam iron in my right hand...

No subject

2008-04-11T18:51:00.002+01:00

Dear diary,

I am working in a labyrinth. Today I had the guts to go in the attic and discover other two rooms. Two days ago I discovered another room with a single bed (I think the room of the ex-au pair). I saw the door but never opened it until two days ago. And today I opened other 2 doors of perception and discovered unused space in the house.

It's good that the house is not haunted or if it is, the entities left me alone for the time being. But I am worried more by the return of the living entities - on Monday...

Besides, I think I look Indian, since Ranjit or Sanjay toots his horn in the street, from his car. Namaste, let's keep it professional: I need you, you need me. Your house needs me, more precisely. My woolen grey coat cannot be taken for a sari, under no circumstances.

The winter of our discontent

2008-04-07T19:07:00.003+01:00

Now is the winter of our discontent. This morning I saw winter had passed again through my area and it was quite freezing. I speak like a local, because they keep complaining... Only 4 degrees in the morning and I am talking... me, who spent most of my life in the place where the temperture reached the lowest values ever in Romania: -38.5°C in 1942.
I was like Baba Dochia today, left home during winter and returned in spring.

Dracula had his black shirts ironed by me. Goth fashion with lots of pleats and some cheeky buttons on the sleeves. I played bingo again with expiry date of food from the freezer (this time): 2006, 2007, "display by 03 Jun-use by 04 Jun" some A.D.

My Indian lady confessed that people from India are dirty. Luckily, only the cream (the core) moved here, that is why they are so concerned about hygiene and a cleaner is so important to them. Works for me!

The gynecologist and the rubber

2008-04-04T18:25:00.004+01:00

I miss my nagging lady. She is the foam of my life if I see it as a glass of beer and she won't be back next week.

At the second house the washing machine broke. A guy came to change the rubber ring around the door of the washing machine. I think he was a gynecologist more than an engineer, because he changed it through the detergent compartment, as narrow as it was.

New day, new dawn, new friends

2008-04-03T18:47:00.003+01:00

I made new friends: Dell Technical Support, right in the heart of India! First a guy answered and called me almost "man" and then transferred me to a lady who kept calling me "maam". Maybe there "Maam" is the goddess of the call center, you can't tell...

Between two embarassing silences while my laptop was restarting I asked her where she was from, if she read the last issue of "Asiana" magazine and what new curry recipes she has in her household. I thought I would not go too far and ask her about "The memories chain" because she could make me type "format C:\" and make me actually think I was enabling my wireless device. You don't mess with people who can mess with your laptop.

Idle day today, otherwise.

Strangle The Earth with some pyjama trousers

2008-04-02T19:38:00.005+01:00

I walked and traveled a lot by bus - which I was scared before, but as we say, "the need teaches you". I think I was in Bethlehem by bus actually, even if I thought I am on a trip to North London. Jews in the streets (aged 5 to 75), with black hats and coats and 2 longer pieces of hair in front of the ears.

I even asked a man for directions and I hesitated at first, thinking that he would charge me 5 pounds, but I took the chance. He did not charge me. But maybe would have sold me a caterpillar like the Jew in the joke. I found the place without his help anyway. I saved 5 pounds. I had to take the bus for a while. 1 pound. Then the tube return ticket. 2 pounds. Then the bus again, return: 2 pounds. I spent 5 pounds. But I discovered N15 and N16 of London. Priceless.

An Asian lady saw that I am looking for an address and stopped her car and talked to me and tried to help. Then I saw a guy getting out of his car and asked him. He had an Eastern European accent and I asked him where he was from: Hungary. But he could speak bits of Romanian. Luckily (these Hungarians, mindig okosabb-always wiser than the rest) he had a GPS device and I took notes where my street was and so I found it eventually.

My number one mistress is on holiday, that is why I have no frothy details to share. I wait for her to get back.

The other mistress is leaving tomorrow morning. She should go now, because soon she will kill the planet with her washing the pyjamas every morning and then having them ironed and won't have where to go anymore.

1 cup of Ariel = 1 day off the life of the Planet. 1 cup of softener = 1 day off the life of the Earth. 1 washing cycle, 60 degrees water temperature = 2 days off. 60 minutes tumble drying= 2 days less for the Planet. 1 ironing session of 15 minutes = 12 hours less for our little blue bead.
When she told me she washes and irons pyjamas every day, complaining how hard it is to work for that (sometimes she does them), I told her "that is bad" (I was referring to her creating stupid work for her idle hands). She corrected me "That is clean." If she wanted to put it that way, she shouldn't complain about all the work she has to do. In India, do they wear pyjamas only once, I wonder?

Ode to my family

2008-04-01T21:31:00.003+01:00

I am tired. But I must write, otherwise people would think I died like Laura Palmer. At the old man's house it was so much smoke in the living room so that I was dizzy and felt like smoking myself. He smokes cigars.

I met my Friday guy in the street and he walked with me a while; actually he saw me to the tube station. One day while I was in his house I found a list with the family members he had to buy presents to and I was there, among nephews, family and friends. And ex-wife had no present near her name. C'est la vie! In any dictionary or Christmas present list, "cleaner" comes before "ex-wife" or "wife".

So, we had a chat, sorted out things for April and that's it. Our ways separated and I had to open mine with the oyster. He is the only one who treats me like his equal, for the rest I am staff.

I am tired, I can't focus and have no inspiration today. Actually in the morning I wanted to write something about my parents. I was thinking of my father as the best product on this Earth since Mr. Daguerre. And how he taught me to develop pictures an count to 8 to give time to the light to impregnate the photographical paper, then bathing the paper squares in different solutions then letting them dry. He made is own magnifier in a tin, wih some lenses and a space where the photographical film should be introduced and the image magnified and projected on paper. And he used to tell me stories. My mother used to tell me only one story which she made up (I found out later), but I wanted to hear it nevertheless.

This is what I was thinking of today because my job gives me freedom to think of whatever I like.

:)

2008-03-29T09:26:00.008Z

Last night after the prom, my friend and I were in the last train to take us home and a drunken guy got on. At first he "danced" at the bar and after that he texted a message (we were wondering if he was in position to spell correctly) then he found a seat and was almost asleep. His phone rang 5 minutes later and half asleep he was having a phone conversation with the phone in his chest pocket. Then he realised something's wrong and picked up the phone. I laughed so much that my jaws hurt.

Here are the stages:

Stage 1

Stage 2: Behind bars (those were the stems of the roses we got at the prom)

Stage 3: National Pride (I found a newspaper and moved it a bit closer to the guy, because the title seemed great)

Stage 4: Every rose has its thorn

On education...

2008-03-28T14:07:00.005Z

I did not keep my mouth shut today and started to tell the man about how I used to go to the cinema with all the kids fom the block and watch Indian movies in the 80s and how I know even now about "Meri soni", "Chura Lyia hai tumne" and Yaahdon ki Baaraat ("The chain of memories" or something like that). Of course he was very pleased to hear that.
And put me a demo of "Chura Lyia" and gave me another two CDs with more recent movies: "Vivah" and "Heyy Babyy" (this one is an Indian version of the Hollywoodian film with the 3 fathers with 3 babies) which I should watch these days. So I will be entertained in the weekend... And I am so *itchy with the poor soul...

He told me that his son does not know about these. Of course not, the father did not take time to explain while the boy was a child and besides, he is a goth. He is almost normal, except that he listens to Cradle of Filth, not to Indian music.

I will tell my children about Greuceanu and Sturdy Praslea and the golden apples, to prevent them from turning into goths, punkers, gays or - God forbid! - manelists. They will learn English with the father (hopefully there will be a father involved) and at the nursery. Good! I am happy I sorted this out.

This evening I am going to a prom in glitzy west London and the rule says we should wear red and white or both (like the martisor). Ye who hath not been good, ye stayeth at home!

Welcome to my nightmare

2008-03-27T14:53:00.005Z

Watching thrillers in the morning it's not quit a good idea. I watched half of "Saw" this morning and on my way to work, a very innocent pensioner seemed to hide some diabolical thoughts under the hat. An old lady with the walking stick in front of the newsagent was not really as good-intentioned as a homecoming queen from St. Claire's Hospice: she had evil glitter in her eyes. I won't mention the hairdressers in the beauty parlour... No! All dressed in black, the man had a gay je ne sais quoi and the hairdryers and combs were like killing weapons in their hands. You pay to get killed and you will be a corpse with a nasty haircut & throatcut.

When I got to the house, the younger son opened the door and if you had seen "Omen" you would have avoided young boys and would have known what I am writing about.

On the sidewalk I found in a hollow some snow leftovers (in fact ice) from the morning rain/snow and I walked farther and there he was: tall, handsome, smiling with his every vegetal cell (he's a convinced vegetarian) and looking down at me: a tree in bloom. Then I thought one never knows what kind of tree is it, because I've seen a movie once with a tree who needed babies to live: babies were put on its branches and became somehow wooden.

I don't feel quite good this afternoon... 'ave a headache, my body turned into an ecological fur, my voice is hoarse and... wha' is 'tis? I scratched my D key with my claws! Oh!

3 pictures worth 3,000 words

2008-03-26T16:03:00.004Z

A bad one today.

I was alone in the house and I broke the old man's frame with recollecting pictures of a glorious past. They just fell behind the desk and broke on a side. On the whole it still looks ok if seen from a plane or from the other room. When he came home I took him to show what I did and he started to put question as it was a nuclear catastrophe and I got emotional. He forgave me and I carried on with all the "chagrin".

Soon their possessions will dissappear with a little dusting and accidents and blame will be cast not upon fate, immanent will but upon the Eastern European.

After my tears dried, he came where I was and started to put some salt on my wounds, telling me the history of the frame: he had had a cleaner from Slovakia, a nice girl like me, they were getting along very well and one Christmas she took 3 of his pictures and had them framed. She was a good girl, just like me.

The difference between the two of us was that she gave him things, I take and brake him things.

Responsible nourishment and sex

2008-03-25T15:26:00.009Z

Lady Macbeth: "Out, damned spot! out I say! ...
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?" (V,i,38-43)

"What! will these hands ne'er be clean?" (V,i,46)

"Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh! oh! oh!" (V,i,52)

Lady Macbeth is my favourite Scottish wife. I did not kill the old man, no. Today is Bunavestire (I don' know how it is in English and I don't want to bother Google for that) and I worked like a bloody pagan. And I discovered a long list from the departed wife. I hope she's not dead only for the reason that the husband could not live with her anymore and pulled the trigger. But judging the handwriting and the trembling "e" and "t" plus the two A4 pages of things to do in a lifetime, I am not sure if I see her again... Oh, plus in one corner: P.T.O. ("please turn over").
The more I am looking at it, the more angry I get. While she was blowing curry breath behind my neck she never asked me to do these things... Now she left for 2 weeks and I have to tidy up the whole house includind wardrobes and cabinets and the time did not dilated.

Anyway, I did the cabinets which contained all the spices/perfumes of Arabia, India and Pakistan, some of them expired when India declared its independence. From the spices I got the idea of quoting Lady Macbeth. A bit of gore is always welcome for Transylvanians, what the heck!

So, the husband who was lecturing on food eats from KFC. When I was younger I was always wondering what do men eat when women go to the hospital to deliver? But in this country they take men with them, which I can't understand. I mean what is his role there, right then? To bend his knees and have a look at the increasing radius of my pixels? No way, Jose! I think I can create the new file by myself with the help of the midwife whom I will never see again, if I have responsible sex.

Life is a stage

2008-03-21T16:47:00.008Z

My mind: "Nun liebe Kinder gebt fein Acht/ ich bin die Stimme aus dem Kissen*..."
Henry Hoover: "Vroooouuuuuum..."
My mind: "...ich hab euch etwas mitgebracht/ hab es aus meiner Brust gerissen/ mit diesem Herz hab ich die Macht..."
1st Indian man: "Taamata igikaana mana. Do you know Bhenazir. Ibhijanga leetana jikoduur. She lived in Chicago."
My mind: "...die Augenlider zu erpressen/ ich singe bis der Tag erwacht..."
2nd Indian: "I think we could visit them this summer. And then go to Las Vegas for a couple of days."
Henry Hoover: "Vroooooooummm... Piece of dirt on the stairs, i'll suck it!... Vroooouuuuum..."
My mind: "...ein heller Schein am Firmament/ Mein Herz brennt"
1st Indian: "Chigaa intagoote mibhartee, I would love to, yes."

I am forgiven for breaking the glass last week. Accidents happen, but it's fine as long as I don't throw glasses through the house. I don't. If it were a Bohemian crystal with sentimental value, my sorrow would be even more profound. He came in the room where I was ironing and sat on the floor and we had a chat. I told him I used to listen to Nirvana in his kitchen, the song with "a bucket and a mop and an illustrated book about birds". We meet on Christmas and Easter only, so a chat is more than welcome.

He showed me how to clean in front of the fireplace with some lubricant WD40. I told him that most people in London don't burn real wood in their fireplaces, they have some gas installation. He told me with an Eastern European accent: "People from London are crazy." "Are you mocking my accent now? I don't speak like that. My accent may not be the most posh you've heard, but it is not like that." He told me that he was in a train, sitting near a Russian woman who was drinking. She asked him "Wherre arre you frrom, dearr?". "London." "People from London arre crrazy."

When I left he gave me extra money to buy an Easter egg and a kite, because he said the weather is good for flying kites.

He also showed me this, because he felt like sharing and I was the only person in the house. Have a look. It's funny:

_________________________________
*Here is "Mein Herz brennt" I thought of today and the translation:

Now, dear children, pay attention *
I am the voice from the pillow
I have brought you something
I ripped it from my chest

With this heart I have the power
to blackmail the eyelids
I sing until the day awakes
a bright light on the heavens
my heart burns

1 year: Paper Anniversary

2008-03-20T08:58:00.007Z

"Never despair" - I made the coat of arms at V&A Museum.

Today I celebrate 1 year of being an immigrant in the UK. I did no clear my status yet, because I am waiting for my documents from the Home Office, but at least I am on the right way. But please consider me almost legal.

I used to say that I was born for the second time at Heathrow Hospital, Terminal 2 and the first thing I heard was “Mind the gap” in the tube. Ever since, I did not change the world, made no big difference here, but I was stubborn to go on. Weeds and immigrants are obstinate and perennial. I learnt new stuff, made friends and discovered thousands of things.

Now I recognize people in the street in my neighbourhood and I can hold my head up high nowadays. On my third day here I went for a walk in the area and I felt like I was having a big scarlet “I” (as in “immigrant”) on my chest. It seemed to me that everybody knew that I chose to settle here. In fact nobody cared, I am just a number in some statistics, I may represent some titles in the tabloids and feel the brush that tarred us all.

In the last 365 days I grew up as children do in one year: I learnt to walk and cross the street, learnt new words and faces and learnt that I can do things I never thought I might do (nothing illegal, immoral or fattening, though). On my first days here I was like a sponge: absorbing information and experience. Now I am still learning, but whenever I get the opportunity I teach others especially if they need guidance. And they need. I needed.
It was very hard at times to get a a bank account, a GP or a reply from an employer or an agency, but step-by-step I solved some of them and I will improve. So I will blow the candle on my imaginary cake and I’ll make a wish for the next 12 months.

I had a "chocolate cake" and visinata to celebrate today :)

Don't fear the Reaper

2008-03-19T15:13:00.003Z

The older lady must have come earlier while I was moving rhythmically and sweated to get there. He was happy to see me coming. Soon after me other two ladies came. I think he must have been happy with four women at once, around him. Last time it happened to him was in the 60s or 70s and he has a picture that I dust - himself with four young ladies who fancied him on a holiday. The other two ladies who came today were social workers or something. I hope he won't be institutionalized. There is a tough competition I cannot beat: The Reaper and social services. They may take clients away from me.

I found a ladybird on the floor. After all, it is a kicsi bogar like me (a small insect). I tried to save it with my first aid skills, but it was dead all right. I encouraged it to move her little insect legs, called 999-INSECT but in vain.

I miss a little snow. Just a little. One of my ladies told me yesterday that Britain has a terrible weather; it's not true - it may be terrible, but it is mild at least. Well, compared to east Africa where she comes from, it is terrible, indeed. But for me it is a meteorological heaven: I saw trees in bloom at Christmas and flowers in the gardens all year round here.

Am I bovvered?

2008-03-18T16:56:00.008Z

"My wife was expecting twins..."
This is the key phrase that put me to meditation today, while ironing bloody tracksuits. I was thinking, that if his wife could deliver... Then I extrapolated (what an acadeeemic word I'm using!) that if women in Kensington & Chelsea (including Trinny and Susannah) can deliver, every woman could. I mean if they could, they normally would delegate someone to deliver for them, because it is too much an effort. They can ask someone with good references to deliver a baby for them, for £7-8 per hour because they can't take the labour (only the pleasant part).
Don't misundersand me I am not against them: they pay taxes and are the financial martyrs in this country.

On the other hand - or better - belly, some people's fridge is worse than Tesco. In their fridge you find every day food that expired 2 years ago. I cleaned again the fridge and threw a bag of food again: yoghurt, blueberries, orange juice, salad, salmon and caviar. The blueberries were still edible, I had some, but she came and put them in the bin. Anyway I felt bad about all the waste.

I always wanted for my 30th birthday: caviar and champagne. Real champagne, not Angelli. I think my dream will come true this year. I will have some caviar canapes (what an acadeeemic word I'm using, again!) and some champagne. Dixit.

Morgan Freeman came to sort out the alarm system at one of the houses I've been to, today. He came with his wife. Afer they left, I had to disinfect everything they touched: the table, the door knobs, the chairs. I suppose my lady has a second cleaner that disinfects after I leave the house. My face looks bovvered, though? Je m'en fish (!).

The Lord of the Bangles

2008-03-17T18:54:00.003Z

An old indian man stopped me once in the street and grabbed my arm and started to tell me something in a language I could not understand (maybe it was English and his English was not good). It was a strange experience anyway. He has a white beard Gandalf-style, usually white clothes and a walking stick and usually I can see his whiteness from a distance and I pass on the other sidewalk, ever since. I don't want Asian culture to violently grab my arm again and tell me in Hindi that I am the reincarnated don't know who....
Every time I see him, I panic.

On Saturday morning I got out the tube station and saw him with his walking stick and slow pace. I managed to make a detour in the small parking in front of the station and got somehow in front of him. I sped up and was imagining that he would throw his walking stick towards me and it would transform into a snake that would coil around me... Fantasies before work; make life less boring...

Drugs, sex and rock'n'roll (bonus)

2008-03-14T17:25:00.012Z

With the broom I was taking the cobwebs off the ceiling. She saw me and said "You notice everything."
"Well, this is the script. I am starring as The Cleaner this season and I must pretend I see the cobwebs. It's prop., anyway, not real cobwebs."
"I am happy you do that" she added.
"Well, prepare to pay for it, cause I'll ask for a raise soon."

I was in the son's bathroom, she followed me with her tea mug in one hand. The window was open and I heard her, with her acquired British accent "Who put it there?" noticing the towels on the roof, put there to cover the cigarette stubs. She did not see the cigarette ends (pffeeew), so that I picked and threw them all, to save his little straight ass.

Went to the second house, opened the door and saw that the cats have taken razna, gone mad. It was fur everywhere: in the hallway, on the stairs and on the armchair, like they fought with each other. In the bedroom, I found a used durex on the floor plus the torn wrap and instructions. I hoovered with the nose hidden by my T-shirt for fear I should inhale cat hair.

I broke a wine glass in the guy's house. I texted him telling that "I regret to inform you but I broke a wine glass in the kitchen. The good news is that it had been dirty." I was hoping he would not be upset by my text or loss, but he did not reply.

Let's rock'n forget!

Guano Apes - "Lords of the Boards"

"Its okay to eat fish cause they don't have any feelings"

2008-03-13T19:53:00.006Z

B. and Valy are cooking fish tonight. I pried in their kitchen with a weak pretext like "Have you seen The IT Crowd?". In fact the smell made me click; they have filled my desktop with smoke. I was selecting an image in Photoshop, guided by the manual and my eyes were itchy from their cooking. They went offline and had a romantic dinner. I bet they gave the leftovers to Pitzi. :)

Given the fishy reason, I searched on Google something that has to do with carp population in British waters vs. Eastern Europeans. Last year I remembered I saw an article about bloody Eastern Europeans who fish and eat carp. They have even banners now:

To any peckish Poles or ravenous Romanians, the message could not be clearer.

Keep off our fish.

It's Lent now, maybe you don't want to eat fish, but you can read about it.

Food iz bitten Gard

2008-03-12T19:09:00.007Z

I'm hungry. Like in "Barefoot" by Zaharia Stancu. Sa nu uiti, Darie. Finished the "chores", so to speak. Senki sem tudja az igazi nevem... Igy kapod ahogy kerted. Mortii ma-sii. I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship between my mistress and myself because she gave me a glass of diet coke today, for fear I would die of thirst in the over-heated house. She asked me what else I do apart from cleaning. I am looking for another job, but she must not know that. She must think I would die in her service and they will erect my statue in front of their mansion. With my granite eyes I will be forever looking towards east. Snakes Lane East.

At about 5 she cooked some "chiftele" (meat balls) halal or tandoori or whatever. Halal food! Halal viata! :) They were smelling good. I saw them frying happily but the only hot part life offers me is the iron. I must work more to make her feel I am family and get a meat ball. Or get full access to the family fridge: no passwords, no access-key generator, no finger print reader. So far I am granted access on the outside, with baby oil.

[commercial break]

I learnt one thing in this country so far, apart from oyster top-up: to make triangle sandwiches. By the way, I have 24.8% body fat. The rest is dust and bones.

Romanians and swans

2008-03-10T18:28:00.008Z

Different times, different approach. More swan-friendly I mean... In the 90s some Romanian fellows (in fact gypsies, who are said to come from India) ate some swans from Vienna and big fuss was made at that time. Now times have changed: the Romanian embassy is not too far from the swans. I don't know how it is like to be in the office in the embassy and see Prince Charles in his Kensington Palace, sipping his smoothie at 8AM.

Yesterday I went to Kensington Gardens, a few minutes before a rain. I saw some swans on the lake but I fought my national surviving instincts and took pictures, instead of eating them. OK, I was tempted once: in 2000 I was in Paris and in Les Tuilleries they had some water pools with big-fat-juicy-tasty-boneless fish. After days of sandwich diet, I fancied some fish with garlic "mujdei". I was dreaming, but with the eyes of my conscience I could see the titles in the newspapers: "Les Roumains - une menace pour la pisciculture europeene". So I caressed the fish, ignored the knot in my throat and took a sandwich from the bag. If I had lived in a fair world with equal opportunities for everyone, I could have gone "chez Maxim" (the restaurant in Paris) and order some fish that evening, dressed in my sporty overalls. :)

Today - business as usual. On the way to my second job it was so windy and raining, and the cars were splashing water but it made no difference to me from which part the water was coming: from the sky or from the earth... At some point I felt like turning around and going back home. After I finished work I saw many umbrellas forgotten in the street or thrown in the litter bins. Probably they had a nervous/metallic breakdown and their masters threw them.

My old nice Indian lady told me that God could help my mother. I wanted to ask - which God, exactly? Because I heard they have quite a few...

Support a life

2008-03-07T20:00:00.001Z

http://moldovanemil.blogspot.com/

No comment :)

2008-03-07T17:34:00.003Z

I lost about 3 kilos. No orange skin, no cellulite. I weighed myself because I found an available scale.

Awful day today. Discovered another bathroom, close to the gym. They don't even use it, because they prefer another 6 around the house... They are the opposite of Stepan Stepanovici (according to Radio Yerevan, he invented step dance: he had 7 children and only one bathroom). I was thinking that with the money they flushed down that toilet, a whole village in Ethiopia would have had a better living.

An hour later, the lady came to where I was. She was still in her pyjamas and with her mobile phone in her hand and started to explain me how to clean the sink. But she has an annoying manner to explain. She is floating over this life, I don't know how to put it in English.I can tell from her "umm...." and "ummm..." that without an ID in her hand, she is not sure about what her name is. I think I cleaned more sinks in one year than she did in 50. And then saw me using Viakal and said: "Don't use much of that. It is expensive." And my steam reached the maximum level. She was thinking to save on Viakal. About 3 weeks ago her husband was shouting at her that she keeps buying clothes she is not wearing. They did not thought of saving before buying the fourth car or the plastic flowers in the mansion. And they have money that they could afford to commute from India to London on a weekly basis (if they want a cheaper household, they could run it in Mumbay).

Gee! If I have said it is expensive, it would be. But when you do useless expenses with no problem, don't complain about a bottle of limescale remover.
My conclusion is that the lady is not that gifted by God of Wisdom. It seems that "BA Hons." (I don't know what it means, must be a very honorable title to display in pictures in every corner of the house) is just a title on a paper.

I think Stepan Stepanovici with his 7 children and 1 bathroom was better than many people with 7 bathrooms and 1 child. Some people don't know what they've got. It's a sin to complain that something is expensive, knowing that you can afford it in triple amounts. This is a thing I cannot understand in Western society: they have a high standard of living, they can afford a lot of things, above the bare necessities and they still complain that it's expensive.

A friend of mine said that he would like to work for Indians, but only for a day or two, to make fun of them and get entertained. :)

Another interesting thing that happened to me today: I was at the door of my second customer, knocked at the door just in case and then I opened it with the key I have. At the same time, the neighbour was one elbow away, locking her door. I looked at her, prepared to make eye contact and say hello, but she did not even look. And she saw me moving there and everyhting. This country scares me sometimes... They don't act like human beings... I did not have animalic desires for her to come and sniff me, but at least she could have looked at me. I could have been a criminal and hit her. What people! :)

Grandpa, where do the storks go?

2008-03-06T08:31:00.005Z

The son smokes in the bathroom and throws the stubs out the window, on the roof in front. Saw a lot of them there. I hope he won't blame me when they discover that. I don't even have time for a glass of water while I am there.

Two days ago I did the laundry and when I took the clothes out of the washing machine to put them in the drier I heard a strange beep. I did not know where the noise was coming from, checked all the pockets; I listened more carefully and it was a sock that was protesting noisily. It had a chip or something, woven inside, I don't know what for. Maybe this is how the family monitors one of its members, when they are not at home. Like storks in Dumbravioara, Mures County, Transylvania, Romania.

"Dear, have you seen my socks'n'chip?"
"I think the cleaner put them in the washing machine."

Abstract physics and housekeeping

2008-03-03T20:25:00.006Z

The influence of surface ripplings and periodical fluctuations of the refractive index in the layer closest to the surface on the phenomenon of light diffraction is investigated. The analysis includes a study of perpendicular interactions in SiO2 (silica sand). The cases of external reflection, internal reflection, and transmission of light from/by the surface on which the light is propagating are considered. Numerical calculations of the diffraction efficiency for the two basic states of light polarisation (parallel and perpendicular) make it possible to interpret the experimentally observed effects.

Evanescent light is extremely limited in terms of the distance it can be propagated. There are a number of structures in which evanescent light is generated, but the most common generating mechanism is that shown in Fig. 1.

If the incident beam hits surface A, the light is refracted and escapes through surface B. However, if the incidence angle becomes larger than a fixed number, all of the light is reflected off of surface B and escapes through surface C. At this time, evanescent light permeates surface B (the purple area in Fig. 1). As its thickness is less than a single wavelength of light, an extremely thin layer of evanescent light (1μm or less) is generated. This light is not propagated from the glass, thus it is invisible to the naked eye.

Fig. 1

Cleaner's conclusion #1: I hate cleaning a glass table which is positioned in the wrong place, where light is not the best ally; the light will make it look dusty and dirty (still).

Cleaner's conclusion #2: Get a marble or wooden table.

Master's conclusion: Let's use the blinders at the window close to the table.

Computer said "No"

2008-03-03T13:08:00.004Z

I called at the bank (again) today. I think I am the newest customer with the most phone calls ever. I guess my call history spreads over 2 pages already, in their database. I spoke with the whole office already, but I cannot remember their names because I pay attention to the vocabulary (making efforts to understand what they say). It's a good way to make highlander friends from Scotland, you know... One never know when would be exiled to Inverness.

They put me on hold with Santana - "Smooth". The woman who answered was very nice, she made her best to deliver me a good service. In the end she asked me if I rate the experience from 1 to 5, how should I rate her: 5. And she was really happy. And if she's happy, then I am happy too.

I'm having lunch plus ginger beer. I don't know who put "beer" on the can, but no alcohol in the can.

Earlier I was dusting on oriental music and was thinking that about 5-6 years ago, together with a friend of mine we were the only females in the office. And the big boss promised us a website for each of us, when we get married. My website was supposed to be a bit more complex because I have a sharp tongue. :D Today when I remembered that I smiled. Computer said "No".

From the series "These words hurts (!)"*

2008-03-02T09:03:00.002Z

I got these words from a stanger full of wisdom:

"Don't let someone be a piority in your life, when you are just an option for them"

And from Kik (thank you) I got these words which hurt them: "I am a great housekeeper. I get divorced, I keep the house." (Zsa Zsa Gabor)

________________
*"Aceste cuvinte ne doare"

Scent of a woman

2008-03-01T23:58:00.006Z

I found on the floor a tube for soap bubbles or whatever are they called in this language and of course, if life gives you soap*, you either have a wash or blow it into bubbles. Which I did, taking advantage that the children and parents were downstairs. I had my 10 seconds of bliss and happiness and after that - business as usual.

Ok. Enough of being childish, let's get naughty-naughty! My oldest mistress is in her 60s. And I found in her perfume collection: Vivienne Westwood - "Budoir". Punk ain't dead! That would be naughty, but if I think that the lady comes from the same area as Kama Sutra, I should take notes and better observe the environment and the accesories...

I had about 8 years of anosmy and when one's healthy again, of course would pay attention to perfumes. I like to smell them every time I get the chance. And I had my share: Givenchy, Chanel, Kenzo, Pasha de Cartier, Bulgari etc. What gifted bathrooms! The heaven of a nose recovered from anosmia!

*in the times I was a child, soap and Kent cigarettes were some sort of currency. My best childhood friend's grandmother had tens of soap bars in her wardrobe, which was a smelly treasure chest, filled with Lux and Amo. And I remember our neighbours had a cupboard where they kept the spices and it had a smell of black pepper combined with other spices, which I cannot define and I know I will never smell. My sister's wardrobe (when she was married) had a specific smell, but I did not know what it was. Years and years later I found out what it was: opium. In the meantime she got divorced. Maybe she could not cope anymore with eating opium and wanted to change her diet, I don't know... There are still some scents I would recognize, but I think I will never sense.

This is a picture I made in Camden Town; a lady was making really big soap bubbles. I thought mine were the best, but now I doubt that.

Vampires, goths and cats

2008-02-29T19:34:00.011Z

The daughter gave me a lift today, I was like the pet, sitting at the back, the brother in front of me, I was quiet, did not bark, wave my tail or anything.
At some point I asked who is reading "Interview with a vampire" because I saw the book in the house, in various rooms. Even in the loo, but I can guarantee it was not a toilet paper shortage in the house. And after that I gave them my favourite line: "I am from Transylvania." So I found out that he is into gothic. Actually I was presuming that already, after I saw what books he reads (apart from YSL) and what movies he watches. I like gothic.
He asked me if I miss Transylvania. I wanted to give him my second best line - "I miss the earth of Transylvania", but they would not have understood because they confessed they did not read "Dracula". Told them that Dracula is the beginning of it, the rest are variations on the same vampiric theme.

I worked in a textile wholesaler office today. Some sort of sari womb, from where all saris originate, textilistically. But not even in a far-away industrial area I did not escape plastic flowers on the window sills. No way! The hall looked like some wedding parlour (a place where people get married) with baskets of flowers and even more artistic dirt around.

On the way to the second job I heard some bad news from my parents and I started to cry in the empty house of a stranger, after all and felt helpless. The two cats must have heard me and my crying and they came to see, with curious faces, who was the source of those noises. They know me by now. In the end the news is not as bad as I thought, so I am better now. In the bathroom I discovered a dove. Poor thing, was trying to hide behind the toilet. I don't know how he got there but I can bet he was scared. So I did not hoover for fear I should scare him even more. I wonder if I had tried to play Snow White and sing with a divine voice (so not myself), would the pigeon have come on my hand or on my mop? I hope the two cats did not fancy "dove a l'orange" tonight...

Impression: Soleil dans l'herbe

2008-02-28T14:43:00.006Z

I am very proud of my impressionist daffodils. I discovered a new tool today, in the book Photoshop for dummies - me, that is. You don't want to see how Warwick Castle looks like, after a few touches of my artistic talent... You can't tell where is the water, the wall and where vegetation starts.
But hey! Art is to contemplate, not to understand. :) For an exact description of places we have geography or Google Earth.

My linguistic adventures in the country of Shakespeare, Vicky Polard and BBC

2008-02-28T13:07:00.012Z

I remembered the lady called me this morning (after I called her and she did not answer) to say she was sorry and she has an East London accent and I could hear only vowels: "a 'ad too 'ake maa aasbaand too e ospitaaal aaand a did noot knooow ooow maaach eeet wiii 'aaake. Baa a eeel see you 'ext weeek, darlin."

The difference is that I understand her now, but when I started working for her she was trying to make conversation with me in the house and I could not understand a word. I was just similing and hoping she had said something nice.

Or when I have to call to the Newly Self Employed centre or my bank, that is another adventure. They have offices somewhere in Scotland because the workforce is cheaper there, I was told. And they all speak like freaking trainspotters from "Trainspotting". As if some Sickboy "shytes the flag", if you know what I mean. They are horrible. One day a lady on the phone told me to take "aidentificashon" with me an go to my branch to sort out some things. It's a nightmare to make a phone call there. I have to ask them to repeat all the time what they are saying.

And shorlty after I landed here I was not sure about my English, but I am improving constantly, my friends. And luckily, foreigners don't have class accent when speaking English - I was told- I have a New Zealander accent as some of them say. :D

We were taught that they ask "How do you do?" and they reply still by "How do you do". But what I found here is "You're all right?" that no manual teaches. At first when I did not know how things are, I was thinking that MAYBE I don't look all right to them and they are concerned about my life and feelings. But no... That is a greeting, not a deep enquire or a gentle manner to plounge into the other's life and soul. You won't find it here.

My favourite house is to let

2008-02-28T11:47:00.002Z

I hate when I walk all the way to a customer and after I ring the bell twice I find out nobody is at home. And everybody knew that, except for me. If I had known I have a free day today I could have gone to the airport to pick up Lennox. :)

I have a favourite house in Buckhurst Hill. Is a 3 bedroom house and it was restaured in the last 5 months. Before I think a violent madman was living there, because he broke many windows even from the first floor and had to put some wood boards to cover the holes. A broken window may be an accident, but 5 broken windows it's a desire. A few months later I saw builders replacing the windows and working inside. At the ground floor they made a nice fireplace with white decorative stones. I noticed all these changes in the two seconds I spent passing by the house, every week.

One day I was very upset because I saw a sign in the window - "Sold". And now the new owners let it, I guess. This is the short story of the house I will never have.

I used to have a favourite house in Targu Mures as well. It was on Calvaria Hill, close to the cemetery. Do you remember, nb? Every time we passed by it I had to highlight that it was my house. I said it was convenient that it was close to the cemetery because the passage from one world to another was easier. One could go out of the yard when felt the moment of death approaching. Like old dogs do. Or the eskimos. I am running out of life.

....

2008-02-27T08:37:00.003Z

"England has been rocked by the biggest earthquake to hit the country in 25 years.

The quake, measuring 5.2 on the Richter scale, hit at 1am this morning and the tremors were strong enough to wake even deep sleepers.

One horrified man, from Barnsley, South Yorkshire, was rushed to hospital when a chimney crashed through his bedroom ceiling.

People as far apart as Yorkshire, Manchester, Merseyside, Lincolnshire, Oxfordshire, Gloucestershire and London said they felt the tremor."

Hey! I prayed for a good sleep, not for earthly lullaby. :( Hold your layers, Earth, because I don't want to die yet. Not a cleaner, not now, not here.

I am listening to the song I last heard before flying to London. And I know what I was feeling then.

I am sad.

February 26, 2008

2008-02-26T08:18:00.005Z

8:17 AM: I need a kick in the bum to start the day and step forward to the tube station.

8:47 AM: The train reaches Roding Valley, it was almost empty (it contained me and other 2 ladies), the platform was empty and I heard the driver saying: "Please allow passenger off the train first". Maybe he saw us miserable and wanted to make us smile. It was not a recorded voice, he did the talking in realtime and I could tell from his voice he was smiling.

9:27 AM: I had to polish the massive silver plates, leave-shaped, rose-shaped. I felt like in a Dutch painting - "Maid_polishing_the_silver_stuff.jpg" I tried to make a joke with the master, to take my mind off the Dutch artistic movements and referred to the polishing substance. But either my sense of humour is limp these days or the master is.

9:57 AM: cleaned the cupboard and had to check every pack with food or spices. I found packages "Best before end JULY 2002". I threw a lot of food. It is strange for someone coming from a former communist country, where starvation was the policy, especially in a revolutionary city like Brasov, after 1987.

10:07 AM: I am hungry.

10:37 AM: I am very hungry. And thirsty. Of course they left the heating on and everybody fled the house and let me ripe in my own juice. Luckily I had to clean the fridge inside, so I had fresh and cool air. In the fridge the stuff was more up-to-date, but a jar of pesto had to leave the camp because it was full of anxious bacteria.

15:07 The sun is shining and it came down on earth hidden in the daffodils. My second mistress gave me a lift and asked me if I miss my home. It is too intimate a question.

16:14 Madalina posted a comment. :*

21:11 The prayer: I want to sleep tonight and get a good rest.

La dolce vita in Winchester

2008-02-25T17:23:00.004Z

This is not good, but for me cleaning is like a hobby or something "light", even at times it means a lot of hard work; I mean is not that strict like an office job; sometimes I am late when I go to my clients; their bathrooms won't go away, will they? This morning I was late, carrying my laptop with me and feeling like a pregnant woman who must carry the whole screen, keyboards and connections with her. I was thinking of Jennifer Lopez and how gonflated she is these days...

In any case, I was late today, even if the lady is the nicest person in the world and I should try to be the most punctual cleaner in the world. If the Indians have any sins, she is washing all the sins away. She is like a mother to me and not so long ago she was telling me how they came to England with the small children and everything and they had no money and had all the hardships in the world and we both started to cry in her tiny kitchen, me with my hands full of cloths and Cif Power Cream.
Last week I think I showed her my tanga underware (T- shaped, all right?) because I had to wax the floor and I was wearing my low waist jeans, so could not help it. She must have thought - "these gorah girls...".

Yesterday I was in Winchester. It sounds like tobacco to me, because in Romania there is a cigarette brand called Winchester, but I saw no tobacco plantations, but an impressive cathedral where a choir was singing and made me thought that I got rid of cleaning for eternity because I died and went to heaven. But I did not die. I still have my mop to bear every day. There is no heaven for the wicked.

Last night I watched La Dolce Vita (thanks to The Observer) and I thought the film would never end. These Italians do not quite know what a quickie is. It lasted for about 2 hours! Two hours of black and white! That calls for a bit of Photoshop, to make my retina smile again! :) Actually my retina smiled today, because I saw "a host of golden daffodils" in the room. And I was in the hurry to go to my 2nd job, but I started to take pictures of them. These are not the ones I wrote about, but they are beautiful nonetheless:

Now I understand why that Wordsworth guy dedicated an ode to them. In this country you can find them growing "wildly" almost everywhere and I really like that.

A woman less Divine

2008-02-21T20:08:00.005Z

Read in "London Lite" about Liz Hurley and her husband Arun Nayar, who brought a girl from India to be their housekeeper, cleaner, cook and babysitter and they paid the poor girl about £1.20 an hour, in rupees. Which is less than the minimum salary in the UK. And the girl was not an au pair, to have the excuse of the cultural exchange.

I searched on the Internet and found almost the same story - "Crimes of Fashion - Slave labour".

Now - he is an Indian, maybe he has that caste thing in his genes and wants to demonstrate to himself he is better than other human beings and he wanted his daily curry ratio, so he brought the girl from India. And of course he is scrooge, because he had to save money to buy the ultimate BMW convertible. With options that wold exceed those of a mere dentist's car.

She played in "Code name: The Cleaner" (according to google) among other films. And of course she is all shimmer, glitter and glamour, with the help of haute couture that can perfectly hide a coal-like soul. And when it comes of advertised and high life fundraising events I bet she is in the front line. At home there are no journalists, cameras or flashes, so no point in being kind-hearted.

You know what? I understand why Hugh Grant chose to spent a few minutes (or hours) with Divine Brown. Cool, mate! It seems they taught you something at Wetherby! :)

Death of a cleaner

2008-02-19T17:03:00.003Z

As usual, the 9 o'clock lecture today... Today's issue: "The mistress is not organized. Minimal measures to be taken in this respect". Author: The master.

Heard him telling her that she is not organized and she should make rules for herself. I agreed mentally to what he said, but I don't want to make alliances with anyone in the house. You don't know how it is for your day to be organized by an unorganized woman with a straight son.

Sometimes I want to tell her to put her trust in me and let me do my job as good as I can. But I am thinking why should I bother? I apply a simple Romanian principle: she pretends that she pays me, I pretend I work for her and pretend that I like it.

I just want to add that I hate plastic flowers. I hate 27 vases with plastic flowers per square meter. Think about very dusty leaves and buds and tens of leaves of grass that you have to dust, because some designer called Arnborg, Gjord or Solvig had an artistic struck to gather all in a vase and found a happy client to buy that... It's the grey death for the cleaner (grey being the color of dust in this case).

I never knew that about India - the untouchables

2008-02-19T16:25:00.008Z

Yesterday I heard for the first time about the untouchables and this morning, before touching work for an Indian family, I asked Google for more details. Here it is what Google told me:

In the Indian caste system, a Dalit, often called an untouchable, or an outcaste, is a person who according to traditional Hindu belief does not have any "varnas". Varna refers to the Hindu belief that most humans were supposedly created from different parts of the body of the divinity Purusha.

Dalits fall outside the varnas system and have historically been prevented from doing any but the most menial jobs. Included are leather-workers (called chamar), carcass handlers (called mahar),poor farmers and landless labourers, night soil scavengers (called bhangi or chura), street handicrafters, folk artists, street cleaners, dhobi, etc. Traditionally, they were treated as pariahs in South Asian society and isolated in their own communities, to the point that even their shadows were avoided by the upper castes. Discrimination against Dalits still exists in rural areas in the private sphere, in ritual matters such as access to eating places and water sources. It has largely disappeared, however, in urban areas and in the public sphere, in rights of movement and access to schools. The earliest rejection of discrimination, at least in spiritual matters, was made as far back as the Bhagavada Gita, which says that no person, no matter what, is barred from enlightenment. There are an estimated 160 million Dalits in India.
Get more...

I won't comment, but this haunted me all day. And forget about writing that this is my Indian stage of life. I thought being Indian is all about curry, spicey food, colorful saris, gold plus gang dancing in Bollywood movies.
Some things have meaning now...

Useless to say I was so happy at the bank today, when I made a pay-in and they did not accept one of my banknotes because it was torn; I had got it from a generous Indian lady.

Scarlett o'Hara would say: "I will never get a cleaner again." Me neither.

Nightmare on Elm Street

2008-02-15T18:09:00.005Z

This morning the master opened the door and my heart became as small as a flea; he was smiling like he would not have a gay son. I will come back with more details, below.

Soon after my arrival he began lecturing the wife again. This time about food. She is eating a lot and he did not agree with her attitude of feeling "full". He told her "If you were a woman from Pakistan, I would understand that." I wanted to ask them from which part of Asia do they come, because they don't seem European to me.

The lady was a nightmare today: stood in my ribs like a mother-in-law and even if she has not cleaned for 2 hours in her entire life, she knew better. I was not supposed to use the scratchy side of the sponge (which is not tougher than metal, but is good for a very dirty surface), for fear I should scratch the metal. And the grease stratum was big and she does not have good cleaning products.

Let me write about the gay son. I gave him chances of being gay because he has the last Vogue in the room, Yves Saint Laurent's autobiography, a hair dryer and a trendy hairdo that requires more than 15 minutes daily plus trendy clothes. And I thought about the matter and my conclusion was that he's gay. I was wondering if muslims are happy with gayness, that's all... and was trying to find a way for him and his parking the bicycle on the dirty track...

On my way home from the 2nd job I was thinking about my new blog post and all of a sudden he, the gay son appeared on the sidewalk in front of me, with his girlfriend. I was looking at him, smiling and ready to say hello and he saw me but he turned away his head. And I cleaned his toilet and shower! In the morning I even saw him in his boxers and I know hidden corners from his room. I have a more intimate relationship with him than he has with his partner (luckily, a woman, was revealed today).

And after all I did for him in the last 2 weeks he pretends he does not know me... Straight men - can't help it!

Got the ironing board under my feet

2008-02-14T15:38:00.009Z

My Thursday family has a door bell sounding like Big Ben or BBC News jingle. I think I drove them all crazy with my music today (the children were at home because of mid-term break, the husband has an injured leg and the wife had the pijamas on, at 11 AM).

I walked through the whole house with the ironing board, until I settled somewhere, where the mistress said. I was carpet surfing with the board. In one room the boys were playing Wii, in anoher room the husband was suffering and in the third room, the socket was too far to reach. So we moved the husband and then moved the ironing board and then the bin bags with the clothes.

I can't help it: every Thursday is my stand-up show, because I have to do the ironing. The more bags with clothes I have, the longer I stay. And work is fun with some music. So, I drove them crazy with my music from Scuzz TV (System of a Down, Linking Park, Metallica, 30 Seconds to Mars and Marilyn Manson). I used to watch Kerrang, but they cannot offer me anything new - the same Bon Jovi and Ozzy in the
90s; VH1 had the greatest love ballads an I didn't need that aggravation, so I switched to Scuzz today.

On my way home I began to see blur, more blur and I saw my grey coat and pullover in a grayscale. I think it's from Photoshop... I am learning the Photoshop environment these days.

N.B: as you noticed I specialised in labels that has nothing to do with the post. That is the idea: post-modern & rebel labels.

Taking a bow,
Lady of the Boards