by So I went to the pool this morning for my final swim before it closed, and I could see that tubs of chlorine and soap were being loaded into a van. I went through the automatic doors as usual, but the QR reader wasn’t doing anything. We’re closed. Already? Yes, we closed at ten. I looked at my watch. Quarter to nine. But he must have meant ten o’clock last night. On Tuesday I asked the lady at reception when the last day would be, and she said Friday (today), but after ten years none of this surprises me. No signs with, I dunno, words like apologise or inconvenience. Basically no nothing. This is is how Romania operates. I got in three swims this week anyway, but now I have to think where to go next, if there is a next.
I’m feeling considerably better than I did last weekend when I couldn’t sleep and everything was overwhelming. Getting that bank stuff sorted was something; now both my accounts are back in business. My work week hasn’t been bad. It’s mostly been dominated by kids, who this week have had a short break between terms, if that’s what I should call them. A few years ago they rejigged the school year so that it’s in five chunks, and this is the gap between chunks one and two. I asked a nine-year-old girl if it’s been nice to have a break and she said no, her mum has given her so much to learn over the “break” that she’d have preferred to be at school. I could totally believe that. I’ve had two sessions this week with the girl (also nine) who isn’t really literate. Last night I went back to the absolute basics. The fat cat sat on the mat. I’ll see her again tomorrow. I also had my first session with another girl, this time just eight. What’s more, it was online. There’s no way this will work. But it did, because her English was staggeringly good. Teaching is still pretty satisfying, even if my hours this year will be end up being way down on previous years. Everything else though is a bit of a mess.
Last week I read something about the snooker player Mark Allen. He recently had ten weeks of treatment at a mental health facility and appeared in a TV interview. He was the guy who missed the easy black (easy for someone like him, I mean) that would have put him in the world final back in May. Someone commented to the effect of “It’s no wonder people are struggling. We’re living in a world we weren’t designed for.” Too true. And increasingly so. I look at my parents. Dad said he isn’t sleeping because of all the worry over the place in St Ives and more. Mum looked about 95 when I saw her on Monday. They should not be dealing with this at their age. And I’m really not managing either. I’m having to navigate the modern world almost entirely alone, which makes it even harder. I have fewer contacts here than I did five years ago. Mark has gone, sadly. Tennis has also gone. The tennis people decided to sever contact with me for some reason I never knew. One lady whom I’d always got on well with switched from the informal pronoun to formal in her messages – a highly unusual move – then stopped contacting me altogether.
I couldn’t make head or tail of the Israeli election results. In just four days America goes to the polls. These midterms feel enormous, even bigger than presidential elections used to be. (Well, 2000 was extremely consequential. We just didn’t know it at the time.) I find it absolutely ridiculous that Americans’ biggest concern (and the one thing that might pull them away from the abhorrent MAGA cult) is this that gas prices are $4.30 per gallon. Now of course gas prices affect the cost of living in a number of other indirect ways, and in some states like California where they have extra state taxes they’re paying over $6. But here in Romania, in a far poorer country, it works out to be right around the $8 mark.
Scrabble. I recovered from a bad start to finish the latest round of the league with (once again) seven wins and seven losses. I thought I was doomed to relegation, but have survived and wasn’t far off a promotion as things turned out.
I have to take Kitty to the vet very soon. Over the last week I’ve kept a food diary for her. It isn’t very full.
Update: She vomited on the way there, just like last week. Her weight hadn’t changed. The vet said she’s eating enough, but I should buy better quality food – I was given a list of options. If that doesn’t get her to put on the pounds (or grams), she’ll have some blood tests done.
I’m still planning on going to Serbia on Sunday.
At the mall last Sunday there was an exhibition of photos of typical Romanian scenes, mostly with elderly people. I thought they were quite wonderful; they encapsulated what I love about Romania and what I’d be sad to leave behind if I go. Here are them all:
