24

There are many questions I would like to ask about 24. One of them is why I didn't get season 5 as soon as I had finished season 4, and not waited so many months. Now, I am trapped. Caught by the web of lies that the CTU agents and the White House have woven surrounding chemical weapons, gun chases and terrorists. Oh lord, 24, how I love thee.

Jack Bauer is back on form as the rogue agent that is clearly the only person who can save America. It is just so fast, so dramatic and I love every minute of it. So excited have I been that I had to email an old work colleague expounding my adoration for the programme because I know that he will sympathise with my plight. Soon it will be time for sleep, but the flashing lights, loud music and gunfire will make my brain and eyes twitch long into the darkness.

Brilliant TV is rarer than we think these days and so far, season 5 may be the best of 24 yet, and for me that was already saying something. If you have never seen any of these series, what have you been watching? The only question that remains is; why does Keifer Sutherland not want to marry me?

Freak

Every time I get a phone call from one of my friends all they want to ask about is whether or not I have a job yet. Last night I chatted to J and this was one of the first things that she asked me. She laughed and said that all anybody asks her about is her new flat, which is a work in progress and it drives her mad. I know that people are concerned that it is soon to be february and I still have no work on the horizon, but it is only in those moments of questions that I start to really worry.

There is the added element of having to give the same explanation over and over again to different people. I explain that I have been spending time looking for the 'right' job. I tell them that I don't want to jump into something that will give me ants in my pants after six months. They listen, and it makes me feel better that they care. But often times, hearing the words of justification come out of my mouth makes me realise what I have done. Cast myself into the void on some hippy premise of 'what feels right'.

When you are in the middle of these changing times, you wonder if calm and normality will ever be returned. K is moving to Hull and is living with boxes, wondering if her things will ever actually be unpacked in their new home. The waiting is driving us both mad, her for her move and me for an answer.

Coffee and TV

When I got home at Christmas, I watched very little TV. I just was not into a rhythm yet. I had no idea what the programmes were that gripped the hairdressers of England, didn't know what was being discussed across the counters in supermarkets up and down the country. Now that I have been home for 6 weeks, I have discovered the joys of English television.

For a start, the new series of 'Dancing on Ice' has just started, but there is much more to love than that. There have been times in the last few weeks that I have retreated back into DVD boxset mode. I have hidden in my small room and just picked up the Futurama boxset and watched without thinking. Now, I have programmes that I watch every week, and I am enjoying the continuity that brings. I had forgotten what it means to enjoy a programme once a week, instead of gulping it down in 36 hours.

I am loving 'Ugly Betty', it is cute, funny and it is Friday night. Thursday at 9.00 is 'The Truth about food', a documentary series about the myths and facts of what and why we eat. I love Panorama, more than anything I missed documentaries when I was away. Now that I am home there are many things to watch and enjoy. What I never thought about bef0re was how engrained in English culture TV actually is. Now that I have been home for a while, I am back in the loop. I can chat to my hairdresser about friday night viewing. I never imagined that I missed being part of England in that way. Maybe I just feel like I am doing what everyone else is doing, watching TV, and there is a level of connection in that.

Cooking book obsessed

I have developed a little Saturday routine that starts with sleeping in, having a shower and them meeting L for coffee and lunch at Costa. The fact that Northallerton now has a coffee chain in a source of endless amusement to us both, but I digress. After that, we have a wander, look in some shops and drool in the bookshop while trying to keep each other away from buying anything. She drops me off and I pick up my car at home and drive to go and see N in Richmond.

In these cold, Yorkshire, winter weekends, we can rarely be bothered to go out and greet the world so we have settled into me arriving mid-afternoon after N has already been shopping and chosen an amazing recipe for us to cook and enjoy in the evening. She is very creative and likes to choose things that she has never cooked before. Home-made lasagne, slow-roasted fennel crusted pork, beetroot relish, spinach salad, chicken and black olive sauce, I remember every saturday that has passed.

Every one of these recipes has come from one of about four cookbooks and I have become used to seeing them there open and stained with a salty finger, or a smudge of cream sauce. As it was my birthday last week, I decided that I wanted a couple of these books that I have enjoyed eating out of so much. It all started so innocently, I asked K and N for Nigellas 'Feast', then Mum bought me Jamie Olivers 'Cook'. By the time my brother had bought me Nigellas 'Summer' I knew that I had a serious problem. Other foolsish people have asked me what I wanted for my birthday and nearly all of them were told to get a particular cookbook.

I now have a shelf of beautiful, pristine cookbooks. Each one of them holds the promise of beautiful dinners and lunches cooked with care and shared with love. Once I get my own kitchen, watch out, anyone who comes through the door is likely to be force-fed seared lamb with a chick-pea and pesto mash. I am already a domestic goddess in my soul.

My life on ebay

Since I got back to the UK and found that I have not yet rejoined the working masses, I wanted to keep the cash coming in so I do not end up destitute in the manner of a Charles Dickens character. Dickens never knew the joy of selling ones posessions on ebay, had he known such joy, he might have been less miserable.

Here I am, nearly a month into my self-imposed work exile and I have to say that the highlights of my comupter time involved checking my auctions to see how much people are bidding on my things. To date, I have made nearly £150 selling mainly DVDs and cosmetics. My beautiful CSI collection is nearly gone, as is a whole host of DVD boxsets that I had much fondness for while I was living overseas and missing English TV.

The fact is that I do not really need these things, they are transient and as I am living a life without a pay packet, also frivolous. I am sad to lose things that I enjoyed watching and having, but in the end, I like the cash in my account a bit more. At this very moment, I don't need those things, I need to keep my head above water.

Moulding old minds

While I wait for my working life to start, I have been asked to give som lectures. As you can imagine, I am feeling pretty pleased with this, and as of next week I will be given two sessions in which to mould and shape some older minds into fully fledged teachers. I need to do some research and also need to buy a cord jacket with patches on the elbows as that is what lecturers wear I believe.

Today is Friday and that means the Times Educational Supplement is out. It is funny that when you are not working, you get no benefit of routines and I have found myself creating them. Every Friday I drive to Tesco and buy the paper, bagels and cream cheese. I drive home, have a late breakfast and circle jobs in the paper while watching daytime TV. The drone of the presenters in the background can sedate the panic when there are no jobs to be had.

Even Rocky had a montage

You have to imagine the theme from Rocky playing in the background of my training montage. I am still jobless, and lets face it, starting to panic. Because of this I have signed myself up for a load of training. Determined to get something out of this bizarrely aquired job-free period, I want to make sure that my knowledge and training in the Uk teaching system is up to date.

What this does mean though is that in any conference I attend I must explain that I have no job, actually I was working in Poland, I have no idea where I will go next etc. It also means that I get a chance to start feeling passionate about education again. It means that I get the chance to want to be in schools, to understand more about the standards and aims of care that I should be working to.

I rarely get political on my blog, but a huge problem on the international circuit is that the schools and teachers really are left to their own devices. They are not subject to government legislation in the same way that state schools are and as a result it is easy for a teacher to get lost on their rights and responsibilities in the classroom, especially for me as a special needs teacher.

Ok, rant over with for today. More job applications, more internet searching, more cups of tea, more freaking out.