http://insearchofarussianoligarch.blogspot.com/2012/03/to-ancient-city-of-vladimir.html
Monday, 26 March 2012
To the ancient city of Vladimir...
Never say "should" in Russia!
http://insearchofarussianoligarch.blogspot.com/2012/03/to-ancient-city-of-vladimir.html
http://insearchofarussianoligarch.blogspot.com/2012/03/to-ancient-city-of-vladimir.html
Monday, 20 February 2012
Monday, 9 January 2012
Life in Russia so far........
http://insearchofarussianoligarch.blogspot.com/2012/01/life-in-russia-so-far.html
Click on the link to read my latest post about life in Russia.
Thank you
GEM
Click on the link to read my latest post about life in Russia.
Thank you
GEM
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
Christmas in Moscow
Come and read about my first Christmas in Moscow over at my new blog!
http://insearchofarussianoligarch.blogspot.com/2012/01/christmas-in-moscow.html
http://insearchofarussianoligarch.blogspot.com/2012/01/christmas-in-moscow.html
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
In search of a Russian Oligarch.....?
I guess one of the advantages of not being married nor having had children is that rather selfishly I really only have myself to think about. My life decisions affect just little ole me which gives me the freedom to make radical changes. So 6 months ago I decided to change my life. I handed in my notice from my office job, gave up my apartment and moved back home and embarked on a quest to find out what it is I wanted to do for the rest of my years on this planet. When I announced this news to friends and family the consensus was that I was very brave but I didn't see it like that at all. There is nothing brave about gambling when you have nothing to lose. A little scared and anxious from time to time? Well yes as I spent many a sleepless night wondering what would become of me but stubbornly I kept a positive mind and believed all would turn out well in the end. I was in a position where I could pretty much go anywhere and do anything. I had no ties, very few financial commitments and some savings which bought me the most valuable of commodities.....time.
Ironically when you have numerous choices available to you, making a decision is nigh on impossible. The world is not only your oyster, it is a fairground of whirling merry go rounds and speedy rollercoasters. Knowing which ride to jump on and get the most enjoyment out of without too many stomach churning moments is akin to choosing lottery numbers that if you pick incorrectly you miss the jackpot!
For the first few months I concentrated on writing. Without the pressures of a stressful job to occupy the space in my head, my mind was free to wander and tap into an imagination that once unleashed threw out idea after idea to the point that I was writing three books at once! The writing continues today but I have sensibly chosen just one book to finish and to date I am a fifth of the way through. However, there is no guarantee that I will be published and as the months roll on and my savings dwindle I had to look for another fairground ride to jump on.
Some years ago I qualifed to teach English as a foriegn language but personal circumstances at the time prevented me from embarking on a teaching career. The idea had crept into the back of my mind again about a year or so ago but I had ignored it's niggling presence, my own fears at the time refused it to be anything but a pipe dream. Now with the changes that I had made I decided to look in to this again. I tested the waters and volunteered to participate in two English Immersion Programmes in Spain and Poland. Whilst this was not strictly teaching in a classroom setting it did involve certain elements which required patience, understanding, quick thinking and enthusiasm. Most importantly it re-ignited my passion to teach. I had hit the jackpot and spent the following weeks applying for numerous teaching jobs across the globe. My lack of experience went against me and I heard nothing from most of my applications. Thankfully after a few refusals and frustrating periods of radio silence my perserverance and positive thinking paid of.
On Sunday 18th December, 6 months after I quit my job and 10 years after I returned to the UK, I am boarding a plane to Moscow where I will work, teaching English to Russian folk before being shipped out to Siberia to continue to teach in a new school. The only Russian word I know is Vodka....but hey I always like making things difficult for myself and I'm sure it won't be long before I've learnt the words for "it's f***ing freezing here"!
I've always wanted to visit this once Imperial Land. It's unobtainable, out of reach existance gave it a mystical quality that has always fascinated me. My life long ambition is to travel on the Trans-Siberian Express but I never in a million years thought I would work in the country responsible for its creation.
Where this fairground ride is taking me, I've no idea. How fast it will go and the thrills and spills it will bring along its way remain to be seen. One way to find out is to follow my new blog which will chart my life in Russia. I hope to bring to you a little piece of Russian culture, food, travel and people as you join me in my journey of discovery over at In search of a Russian Oligarch
The Modern Day Spinster will be taking a back seat for now and who knows should I find my Russian oligarch or even Russian prince (aim high) then our beloved Spinster can climb off her soap box and hide herself away. I want to thank all those who have taken the time to read my posts on here and especially those who took the time to leave encouraging positive comments. I hope to see you over at my new blog very soon.
Take Care
GEM
xx
Saturday, 29 October 2011
"and they call it puppy lurve........."
Meet Charlie....
I love this little fella. An adorable, cute, affectionate bundle of fun......everything a puppy should be. He's an 11 week old Working Spaniel and is the newly acquired addition to my sister and brother-in-laws home. They both go out to work everyday while I stay at home and write which is pretty much impossible when this little guy needs constant supervision. He's only been with us a week and whilst he's worked his way into our hearts big time, he's also worked his way into the kitchen cupboards, washing machine, plant beds and it won't be long before he attacks the fish pond!
We've made the house and garden as Charlie resistant as possible but he's getting more and more adventurous each passing day. This guy loves to chew and there's nothing he won't have a go at. Despite the plethitude of squeaky chewy toys that he's already accumulated, he'd rather get his puppy teeth into the cupboard corners, table and chair legs, radiotor valves, towels, garden wire and my feet (did I mention he's very brave too?!)
At the moment he is a machine.....a pee and poop machine that is. Even though we 've taken every precaution to assist in his toilet training, if we don't get to him fast enough he's doesn't hang around crossing his legs and paws holding it in....no way! Fortunately the kitchen floor is tiled and cleaning up his mess isn't a drama but in the first few days it was happening so frequently that once I'd put the rubber gloves on I didn't bother taking them off, there really was no point.
A new kind of smell has impregnated the house and I don't mean the smell of dog. This boy can fart and not in relation to the size of his body. The pungent throat clogging stench can only be described as evil and lingers in the air long after it's expulsion. It's hard to believe it was brewed within the inner workings of a little ball of fluff and not the decaying bowels of a dinasour.
The quality of my days are measured by the quantity of indoor little "accidents". If there have been none or very few then I've had a good day and if there have been alot then I've had a shit day......quite literally! Our conversation on an evening is no longer filled with everyday issues such as work, tv, dinner and general news. Now we discuss in minute detail Charlie's pee and poop. how many, how long between each one, solid poop or soft poop, the size and shape of his poop, does it resemble a chocolate covered sausage or dispensed lump of Mr Whippy ice cream and how far up the stinkometer etc etc. The scary thing is that it seems perfectly normal to talk like this in our all consuming Charlie bubble while the outside world ceases to exist.
We haven't spent a night on the comfy sofa in front of the TV since Charlie arrived. No we'd rather sit huddled in the kitchen watching him sleep, watching him eat, watching him drink, watching him play, watching him chew, watching him poop!! Are we obsessed? Yes, I think so.
And why is it we talk to each other as if Charlie was their child? My sister has become "mummy" my brother-in-law is "daddy" and I'm his aunty. Our brains are being turned into mush. Lord knows what the neighbours would think if they were to overhear me in the garden encouraging my "nephew" to poop and pee on the lawn "pee pee Charlie, do a pee pee please for aunty". Repeating a phrase like this is what they advise in the training manual yet I can't help but feel that whoever wrote this did so while laughing manically "mwahahahahaha!"
In truth, when the toilet training goes wrong and he leaves us a "present" on the kitchen floor or a table leg succumbs to his mauling mouth it is oh so easily forgiven because "butter wouldn't melt" is what springs to mind as his eager face peeps from behind the gate, wagging his tail in excitement as he sees us. A sudden unknown noise and he darts to "hide" behind our legs. Should we be standing at the kitchen counter making a drink or preparing food he will squeeze inbetween and snuggle down on our feet. And when he's tired he wants nothing more but to be cuddled in our arms and nuzzle his tiny head into our necks as he softly slumbers.
Yep this little fellla has us wrapped around his little finger (or claw) and who can blame us?
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| I'm having fun! |
We've made the house and garden as Charlie resistant as possible but he's getting more and more adventurous each passing day. This guy loves to chew and there's nothing he won't have a go at. Despite the plethitude of squeaky chewy toys that he's already accumulated, he'd rather get his puppy teeth into the cupboard corners, table and chair legs, radiotor valves, towels, garden wire and my feet (did I mention he's very brave too?!)
 |
| Mmmmm yum! |
At the moment he is a machine.....a pee and poop machine that is. Even though we 've taken every precaution to assist in his toilet training, if we don't get to him fast enough he's doesn't hang around crossing his legs and paws holding it in....no way! Fortunately the kitchen floor is tiled and cleaning up his mess isn't a drama but in the first few days it was happening so frequently that once I'd put the rubber gloves on I didn't bother taking them off, there really was no point.
A new kind of smell has impregnated the house and I don't mean the smell of dog. This boy can fart and not in relation to the size of his body. The pungent throat clogging stench can only be described as evil and lingers in the air long after it's expulsion. It's hard to believe it was brewed within the inner workings of a little ball of fluff and not the decaying bowels of a dinasour.
The quality of my days are measured by the quantity of indoor little "accidents". If there have been none or very few then I've had a good day and if there have been alot then I've had a shit day......quite literally! Our conversation on an evening is no longer filled with everyday issues such as work, tv, dinner and general news. Now we discuss in minute detail Charlie's pee and poop. how many, how long between each one, solid poop or soft poop, the size and shape of his poop, does it resemble a chocolate covered sausage or dispensed lump of Mr Whippy ice cream and how far up the stinkometer etc etc. The scary thing is that it seems perfectly normal to talk like this in our all consuming Charlie bubble while the outside world ceases to exist.
We haven't spent a night on the comfy sofa in front of the TV since Charlie arrived. No we'd rather sit huddled in the kitchen watching him sleep, watching him eat, watching him drink, watching him play, watching him chew, watching him poop!! Are we obsessed? Yes, I think so.
And why is it we talk to each other as if Charlie was their child? My sister has become "mummy" my brother-in-law is "daddy" and I'm his aunty. Our brains are being turned into mush. Lord knows what the neighbours would think if they were to overhear me in the garden encouraging my "nephew" to poop and pee on the lawn "pee pee Charlie, do a pee pee please for aunty". Repeating a phrase like this is what they advise in the training manual yet I can't help but feel that whoever wrote this did so while laughing manically "mwahahahahaha!"
In truth, when the toilet training goes wrong and he leaves us a "present" on the kitchen floor or a table leg succumbs to his mauling mouth it is oh so easily forgiven because "butter wouldn't melt" is what springs to mind as his eager face peeps from behind the gate, wagging his tail in excitement as he sees us. A sudden unknown noise and he darts to "hide" behind our legs. Should we be standing at the kitchen counter making a drink or preparing food he will squeeze inbetween and snuggle down on our feet. And when he's tired he wants nothing more but to be cuddled in our arms and nuzzle his tiny head into our necks as he softly slumbers.
Yep this little fellla has us wrapped around his little finger (or claw) and who can blame us?
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| My favourite toy! |
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
Ahoy the good ship Talia...!
Earlier this year I had the good fortune to be invited to help crew a Catamaran for 10 days off the south coast of England. I had done some sailing in my years but these seafaring ventures were brief, few and far between. Clearly, however, I had involuntarily painted a different picture when in my alcohol induced state I discussed my love and experience of sailing with exaggerated aplomb through new forged friendships on a skiing holiday in Italy New Year 2011.
So when the invite landed in my inbox a few months later I gladly accepted with the hope that my 4 fellow crew mates were all "Old Salts" as it were and that a 5th member was more of an added bonus than a necessity. How wrong I was....!
On arrival I was informed that 1 male crew member had suddenly "abandoned ship" before even climbing on board due to unforseen cirumstances. This left a crew of 4 consisting of 1 male and 3 females. Our Captain (the only male) and Catamaran owner had thankfully 10 years sailing experience behind him. The other 2 crew members also had clocked up a fair few hours on the ocean waves. And so with my best barefoot forward I rose to the challange ahead and prepared myself to be "thrown in at the deep end" as it was quite literally "all hands on deck" for the next 10 days of our advenure at sea.
So when the invite landed in my inbox a few months later I gladly accepted with the hope that my 4 fellow crew mates were all "Old Salts" as it were and that a 5th member was more of an added bonus than a necessity. How wrong I was....!
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| Talia |
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| Harry's Rocks |
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| Talia |
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