New Conversation classes available

Absolute English is now offering a group conversation class for people looking to expand on their pronunciation and vocabulary skills. The class offers tips and knowledge of Great Britain, it's culture and oddities as well.

The class is entirely in English. Think of it as a challenge and one that you can master if you try hard enough.

Please contact if you wish to take advantage of this offer.

Britain and back again

A couple of weeks ago I and my wife returned to Britain, only for a short ten days, but enough time to show her off.

Clarissa and I had, despite years of relationships (romantic and friendship alike), never travelled to or from Britain together. Our memories of London Heathrow were continually of hellos and goodbyes...this time would be different.

Following an arduous 24 hours of travel, which included cars, planes and buses, we finally arrived in Sheffield and promptly went to the pub.

The following day and days after revolved around paperwork (relating to the sale of my family home), packing and binning possessions and meeting up with old friends.

(left to right, Me, Callum and Chris)

We discovered a Churrascaria (Brazilian Barbecue House) had opened in the centre of Sheffield (one of the more random discoveries I had expected), although we didn't feel the need to enter (something to do with the fact it was 9am and Clarissa is a Veggie.

 
Further adventures included Clarissa spending the day at the Western Park Hospital (as a visiting Doctor) enjoying a tour of the facilities, hob-nobbing with the brass and generally furthering her career...while I shopped for second hand book and dealt with paperwork.

We were so lucky that we got to visit with my cousins- Katy and Susan (Steve, Charlie and David) and my aunt- Daphne. A fantastic lunch and given that I was clearing out the house, I felt the need to donate my "new" Star Wars collection to the boys. To which, Clarissa and I are, in their own words- "Epic"!

On the evening of the Brazil vs England football friendly, we found ourselves in a local pub (which I hold fast never saw a foreigner before) with Callum, Angela and Chris. Clarissa had re-discovered my Brazil shirt which she originally gave me the better part of 12 years ago and felt the need to represent the southerners, while I donned a 1966, red shirt.

Brazil took the lead, to which, a normally indifferent Brazilian football fan rose from her seat and began taunting the English populous of the pub. You had to laugh, especially when we took the lead and I felt the need to chant back at her. A deserved draw kept tensions at a palatable level and we left the pub in a jovial and somewhat tipsy state of being.

We left for London on the Monday morning and after some awkward luggage stacking on the train and subsequently equally awkward luggage lugging, we made it to our "hotel" in Paddington. I say "hotel" as we both feel the description on the internet was somewhat misleading and as such, they probably forgot to add an 's'.

During our stay, we battled teenage Germans and their incessant need to be rowdy throughout the night (how dare teenagers have fun on holiday!), argumentative staff (downright rude and ignorant actually) and saw a rather miffed american demand a full refund and storm from the premises.

WARNING: do not stay at the Shakespeare Hotel in Paddington, unless you are fully aware that the staff are either untrained or rude, the breakfast is pitiful and you are more than likely to be kept awake after your very long journeying by children. Apart from all that, it's fine. Just treat it as a hostel and demand a hostel price.

Our tour of London saw Clarissa and I visit the exterior of her former flat (13 years ago), as such, she had some trouble remembering the actual building and we guessed which it might be. We saw Big Ben, rode the London Eye, wandered Kew Gardens (a desire of Clarissas' for a long time and a favourite of my Mums') and ate in a multitude of pubs (veggie burgers for Clarissa) and I overdosed on Britsh ale/lager alike- as such, we have been de-toxing since our return.

We also visited the Sheffield City Farm (where I visited the friendly Llama), Clarissa spent many a happy hour petting numerous British hounds and we took lots of pretty photos.

All told, this was a great visit. I'm happy to be home though. Porto Alegre is my home now and I missed it.

Hail Brasil

Yesterday I found myself sheltering inside the bank, as I and a group of around 40 people waited and watched as hail stones fell from the sky and battered the streets. 

Having been here a year and borne witness to various weather effects, this was the first time since leaving England that I had felt the chilliness of "snow"- save for a touch of it in the mountains of Gramado. 

After the pelting had abated, I wandered through the park and along past the shops, revelling in the shivering cold that my light hooded jumper failed to keep from me. It was so reminiscent of being back in the UK. 

As a result, Pricila and Joca are now wearing their winter coats- Pricila in pink, with a skirt attached and Joca in a fluffy blue number.

A far cry from the week prior, when Clarissa and I had sat in the central park, read books, bathed in the sunshine and generally enjoyed the summer. 

We chose to sit near a group of teens/early twenties, playing guitar and singing various Beatles melodies. They were pretty good, although an 8 year old on her bike didn't agree and kept her fingers inserted squarely in her ears throughout the entire performance and as if that weren't enough, screwed her face up to emphasise the feeling.

A little later we strolled around the park and came across a small poodle, wearing a day-glow poker visor and a set of trainers, one for each paw. Sometimes I think the Alegrense like their dogs a little too much.

This week I'm dividing my time between giving feedback to students (very respectable teacher) and overseeing workmen in the apartment (as ever), this time they're sanding the wooden floors that were scratched and scarred to death by previous workmen. It's a vicious cycle.

Happy Easter and April Fools...

Well, it's a little over a month since I got married and much is still the same.

There wasn't this overwhelming rush of responsibility, this terrible fear of having to instantly become someone else. I'm pretty thankful for this, because, as I sit here, typing away, I realize that while I have a job, I'm writing a book, I'm married and living a foreign life, I am, in fact, still, a teenager at heart.

I find the silliest things amusing and while that does, from time to time, infuriate Mrs Wing (Troller-Habekost), she loves that side of me and when I think on it, I think, that's the side of me she appreciates and loves the most.

We had an Easter egg hunt at the In-Laws on sunday...I lost. I found my eggs last and in the noonday heat feared for their structural integrity...my fears were, happily, unfounded.

The Friday prior, I made lunch for the entire family. We don't have a kitchen, as such and as a result, had to fashion a table out of paint cans and a piece of large glass. No problem, seemed to work just fine.

I prepared and successfully cooked fish (St Peter's fish-as it's called here), with butter, cracked black pepper, lemon and served with tarragon and toasted breadcrumbs. For the veggie (the Mrs- and as it turned out, everyone else too) I made a three cheese, rocket, tomato and egg torte- served with basil.

Click here (http://realfood.tesco.com/recipes/roasted-cherry-tomato-tart-with-basil-and-goats-cheese.html) for the recipe. Surprisingly, it looked just like this. Result!

The new book is on it's way. I have a potential illustrator taking a look and currently she has sent a few sketches. All's progressing well. It's a step away from the Llama book and follows the adventures of a boy, inextricably, thrust into space and endeavouring to explore and eventually, find his way home.

I'm optimistic of finishing a first draft in the next month or so.

We're off to Sao Paulo for Clarissa's friends wedding on Saturday. I've been to Sao Paulo before, but as it was just the airport on a connection to Porto Alegre, I'm going to count this as a new city. I can't wait!

Well, that's it for the moment. I just finished painting the small bathroom a lovely shade of cherry red (bit paler than the torte above) and am a little sweaty. Off for a shower.

Here are a few images over the last few weeks you might find amusing.

Cao for now.

 Morning yawns.

 Blurry dog in a suitcase- thinks she's coming to Sao Paulo too.

 

Married

OK, here goes.

Thursday: I was a little nervous. Strike that, I was pacing the apartment and totally unable to settle. Clarissa was working in her clinic until lunch time and I had nothing to do until 5pm- Zero Hour.

So, I expect Clarissa back for lunch, but she's late, 12pm goes by, 1pm goes by and at 1:30 I start calling around for her. Her phone is dead, her parents haven't heard from her and I can't remember which clinic she's at (as her schedule changes often) so Nirlei (Clarissa's Mum) calls both. Now, I'm worried, Nirlei is worried, Cezar (Dad) is worried and the clinics are both worried.

At 2pm, Clarissa arrives back at the apartment, having been shopping for a wedding dress and failed to inform anyone.

I was both relieved and annoyed, I think in equal measure.

Anyway, so, we get dressed, I'm in a new white shirt, black waistcoat, black/dark purple tie, black trousers and black shoes (very smart-will send photos when we get them) and Clarissa is radiant in her White Dress (which she already had- she couldn't find a new dress) and off we go to the Cartorio (Registry Office).

Cezar and Nirlei are there waiting, the translator is there (as meu Portuguese esta pochino), there are two other couples in line too and we're waiting on Luciana and Mauricio (Sister and brother-in-law to be) to arrive. They end up being 10 minutes late.

So, in we go.

The judge lady stands behind her desk, the translator to the side and Clarissa and I are surrounded by family and on with the show.

Do you? Yep!

Do you? Yep.

Good stuff, ya married!

They asked me in Portuguese, our translator was a little slow and given that I was a bit nervous and very eager, I answered, "I do". I couldn't even comprehend the Portuguese and was far too excited to wait.

Kiss.

Long kiss.

Then a few more words, sign the papers, take a few photos (there was professional photographer there) one in front of the Brazilian flag for fun and off we went to the pub, nibbles, beer, lots of beer, shaking David photos and now I am a married man.

Done.

Lead up to the BIG Day

Well, here we are.

I say we, I mean me, which is still "We", but I don't mean you. Understand? I'm rambling.

Oh, well, here "We" go.

It's now 13 years plus some weeks, days and hours and here I am, gearing up to the Biggest day of my life.

We managed a shower in our new bathroom last night (first HOT shower in the apartment in 6 months)- amazing! It's tiled and the water runs and doesn't flood or leak (we hope/think) and the lights work without a short circuit, so, all in all, last night was a pre-wedding day miracle.

I spent a couple of hours last night, out on the town (in the local bar) with my brother-in-law to be, Mauricio, discussing the kind of things you discuss the night before you dedicate yourself to someone forever and drinking a beer or two (Mauricio had Iced Tea, he's hard-core!).

This morning I awoke feeling calm, no jitters, no shakes- which is good, because I've had a viral infection for the last week and have been nervous as to my health prior to the Day, but it seems I'm not only healthy in body, but well adjusted in mind also.

I'm not worried, but I am excited. I'm sitting here, having busied myself with dish-washing, garbage tidying and grocery shopping and now I'm writing this, in an effort to distract from the fact that at 5:15pm today, I'll have a ring on my finger and a new family to legally call my own.

I'm not a religious man, I believe in something, though I'm totally unsure what and I'm not superstitious, though I firmly believe that my parents will be looking on and even if they weren't, I'm comforted by the knowledge that while I may not have had the chance to tell them about re-uniting with Clarissa, they had the foreknowledge and instinct to know that this day was always going to come.

6 hours 37 minutes to go...

Time is counting down...

to the Big Day.

By my reckoning, I have fifteen days remaining of my "Freedom"/Bachelorhood.

Actually, make that fourteen.

Clarissa asked me today if I'd had my "Freak-out moment". I looked at her and smiled.

What can you say to that?

No, it turns out is the correct answer.

And I haven't.

Oddly, I've been gearing up for this day most of my life.

It's often thought that it's the girls that dream of their wedding day and I'm sure that's true, although, on this occasion, it's my turn.

Since I was a young-man I've had this belief that I would one day find that special little lady, settle down, get married and live happily ever after.

I know where this desire came from, it came from my Mum and my Dad. To my eyes, they were a happy couple. Strike that, they were a very happy couple. A pair that, as I saw them, were one person, to the point that I often found it difficult to imagine their lives before they met each other and became Mum and Dad.

I'm sure this lack of sight is common in most children, but I know for a fact that my parents were one.

One half silly, the other, even sillier.

I thank them both for a multitude of things, not least, an obsessive, book reading nature. Something that didn't really rub off on me until my early twenties but in no small part is their doing.

The nearer the 28th gets, the more I find I'm thinking about them and the rest of my family.

I will miss my Cousins and Aunt at the wedding, I won't miss my Brother, I will miss, more than I can say, my Parents.

At the end of last year I finally finished and e-published my first book. I wrote a dedication inside to Peter and Daphne- my Parents. I wish they had been able to read it, but moreover, I wish they were able to be here on the day.

I thank whoever that they met Clarissa all those years ago. I thank them that they contributed so heavily to our being able to see each other over the months and years were were together and I thank whoever that Mum knew that I was going to see Clarissa again.

To paraphrase my Fiancée, "If you're going to do something, best do something hard".

Our lives before and our lives now are hard...and worth every tear.

Family, old and new

While thirty three may not yet be old, it’s no longer young either.

And while I may look less than the sum of my collective years, I often feel vastly in advance of them.

It’s now, that marriage, a home and canine responsibilities rear their heads that I find myself revolving 180 degrees and thinking about the actions and events that led me here.

I’m not going to dive headlong into all the days and years leading up to this point, but it’s worth taking a few minutes, maybe an hour, every now and then and seriously pondering the meaning of your life to this or that point.

I sit here, in our apartment, surrounded by the dust and debris of construction and reconstruction and gaze at the photo frame across from me.

Staring right back at me is Me, a younger me, the one from 13 years ago, the one from 17 years ago and the one from almost 30 years ago. He still looks like Me.

In one image he looks sun-flushed and drunk, in another, he resembles a teenage motorbike enthusiast and in yet another, he sits with his Father to one side and his now estranged Brother to the other.

There’s even one photograph where his Mother and Father encircle him- despite his far greater height and hug him. Him, this late 20’s, chubby faced individual.

Now I sit here and I stare back. There are smiles on every face I see and in my new family I am overwhelmingly lucky enough to see these smiles again.

The smiles in the photos are gone now, but I look at them and I remember them and I know they are still smiling with me.

Rendezvous with Rama

What can you say about Mr A.C. Clarke that ain't been said before?

Dunno? Not gonna then.

Plot: Following a disaster, wherein a chunk of Italy is damn near wiped from the map, the peoples of Earth join together and create a monitoring device, to detect objects hurtling towards them. Jump forward to 2200 and low and behold, one of them nasty meteor thingies is en-route...or at least, they think its a meteor. Turns out to be a large, dark, cylindrical object, and it's massive! Well, off go a team to have a butchers at the ol' goliath. Having committed a bit of B&E (breaking and entering folks), the captain and his crew encounter a world of possibilities and curiosities.

Pretty darn good writing. 

The characters could have done with a touch more development, but the details and the imagination are second to none.

It's no real wonder that Clarke, Asimov and Heinlein were and are still the staple diet of any and all Sci-Fi enthusiasts. 

Yesterday

was a day full of events. Some small, some big.

Firstly, I collected my now, registered Birth Certificate from the Brasilian authorities.

Secondly, I rescued a Blue Tit that had become trapped in some plastic on our balcony. I released it, but it kept flying into a half window we have. I reached my finger out, it sat, calmly on my forefinger and waited for me to lift it high enough. It then paused, as is to say thanks and was away.

Thirdly, I saw a pizza delivery guy loading his 1 year old son into the box on the back of the bike. Some hungry customer is going to be a mite confused.

And finally, we completed all our paperwork.

As of 5.15pm, February 28th, we shall be Mr David Wing and Mrs Clarissa Troller Habekost.

A good day, all in all.

Now, the count down to marriage begins.

Nebula Award Stories 6

Yep, it's another sci-fi book review.

Feel from to skip along to the next Brasil themed post if you like. I just can't stop reading this stuff.

A collection of short stories ranging from the unique to the obscure.

Slow Sculpture, tells the story of a woman, suffering from breast Cancer who ends up in the orchard of a rather confusing man. It seems the gentleman in question is a mechanic/doctor/carpenter/botanist/etc and it jst so happens, if she promises to keep her Gob shut, he's got the cure to what ails her.

By the Falls is told as a conversation piece, based on an interview between a journalist and the old man that lives under the water fall. In this world, the land below the waterfall, the people are oblivious to life above. Curious to some extent, by ambivalent in equal measure, even when the occasional stray pet washes up on the shore or a house floats by.

Purely for the British readers, check out In The Queue.

Not all great stories, but this collection (edited by Clifford Simak- Why call them back from Heaven?) is worth a flick through and the £2 you'll find it for in your local charity shop.

February 1st- a year

February 1st made it a year since Clarissa and I met again.

We'd corresponded via email and made the conscious decision to limit our phone/Skype chats for that unspoken tension aspect of a reunion. You don't want to say everything before you meet but then again, you don't want to lose touch.

Clarissa flew into London on the 1st February 2012, a day earlier than she had informed me she would. Seems that ol' pesky time difference thing reared it's ugly head and I had an email's warning, just before she left for the airport to change my travel plans to meet her.

So, I threw away our train tickets and booked a pair of tickets on the National Express Bus service and headed to the station to get the 6 am bus to London- Heathrow Airport. At this time, Clarissa was en route.

I was feeling somewhat nervous. I am a person that likes warning, advance warning...the more advanced the better and given that my notification was, on this occasion, all of half a day earlier, I had little time to prepare.

I was living in the family house in Sheffield with my brother and, given that he is loathe to help out much, I found myself running around the house with the vacuum cleaner and a feather duster. Yes, very manly I looked too.

I had so much stress and nervous energy building up in me I had real trouble sleeping. I needn't have set the alarm, I woke every hour on the hour.

The taxi arrived at 5am and we were off to the bus station.

The ride was fairly uneventful, but due to the remaining tension I was unable to enjoy reading my book or relax in any way. If I'd been able to pace, I would have.

I arrived (via a connection at London Bus Station) at Heathrow Airport and made my way, as relaxed looking as I could, to the terminal. I got lost on the way. Not crazy lost, where you end up in Bristol, but lost as in I took the wrong turning and ended up at a totally different terminal, all the was across the airport. No real issue and quite expected as I tend to get lost on a regular basis- having gotten lost as a Cub Scout looking for a post box (it was just over the road-I was distracted).

So, I finally ended up at the correct terminal, but given my nerves, I had gotten the earliest bus possible and now had 1 1/2 hours to wait.

I enjoy people watching and made ample use of my wavering, erratic eyes. I also made an unconscious decision to drink coffee (something Clarissa would later refer to, as I forgot to buy some chewing gum and subsequently had not-so-pleasant breath).

The minutes rolled by...slowly.

At last, the doors to duty free opened and the first of the passengers started to trickle through.

A series of lost looking individuals wandered out (the lonely ones are always in a hurry to get out, then they just stand there), then a few families, then a traveller or two (the hippy/twenty-something variety) and then, then I saw her.

Clarissa was looking quite relaxed and perusing the duty free champagne.

Now, I like Champs as much as the next fella, but, given that it'd been a long trip down, a long night before, the nervous tension of getting back in touch and that we had not physically seen each other in a decade...I had hoped that she might run through the gate at a sprint and throw herself into my arms.

But no.

She stopped shopping, turned and walked towards the gate.

Time slowed. I promise you, it really did.

She saw me, I saw her.

She slowed, then sped up.

I had strategically placed myself at the opening to the visitors barrier and made sure that there was a clear line of sight and access.

I walked, then ran.

Arms out, not hint of embarrassment on either side, we collided, grabbing each other and holding each other tight. I kissed her (on the cheek- don't be so presumptuous) and we looked at each other, ignoring the other passengers around us.

We pushed the trolley and her bags out of the way, past the other visitors/families and to an area with a little more space.

We stopped and looked at each other.

Always the one for the romantic gestures and realising that 10 years is just 1 decade too long, I grabbed Clarissa a kissed her squarely on the lips.

She kissed back.

So, her we are, 1 year on.

We celebrated with beers, peanuts and a few games of pool.

   

Stone

Written by Adam Roberts, Stone is a single person dictation, in letter format to a...stone.

Plot: In the future people have DotTech, Nanobots that, for the last few thousand years have cured all ailments, extended life in the average Human and allowed for genetic and physical changes as and when desired- even saving them when decapitated or thrown from 40 storey buildings. Ae, our storyteller, is imprisoned on the Jailstar, seemingly the only prisoner and one of the very, very few people in the Galaxy with a desire to commit murder. Told through letters to her/his only friend, Ae recounts the last few years, her escape, her murderous rampage, her troubles with Humanity as a whole and her eventual recapture.

The narrative is varied and extremely descriptive, allowing for journeys to far flung corners of the Galaxy in foamy bubbles, encountering rainy planets (named Rain), dodging giant sea worm/fish/things and generally debating the morality of singular and mass murder.

A good read, but, despite it's questions/answers, leaves the reader desiring a little more from the eventual outcome/reasoning.

Why call them back from Heaven?

Therein lies the question.

Set 200 years in the future, Clifford Simak asks the question, if immortality were but a stones throw away, would God survive?

Like so many of the pioneer Science fiction writers, Simak pays respect to the idea of a deity, while questioning it's place in our future. 

Plot: The world is effectively run and controlled by Forever Centre, the company behind cures to Cancer, other genetic diseases and is actively searching for the answer to immortality. Rumour has it, they're only 10-20 years away. Daniel Frost works for the centre as the PR guru. It's his job to quash any and all negative rumours from dissenting people across the world. One day, following a messenger mishap, Frost winds up with a note he shouldn't have. An innocuous note. Of not real import, he believes and as such, he pockets it for no other reason other than it was in his hand and the bin was further away. It isn't until Frost is framed by the head of security and evicted from the Human race that he begins to suspect there may have been something to that note. 

Mass produced-uninteresting cars, no theatre or film and TV is the Opium for the masses. Simak introduces us to a future where the world saves all its hard earned money for their "second lives". They invest in stock/shares, stamps and other collectibles. Life is lived until it's over, then they are placed in stasis and re-animated in an immortal future-somewhat richer too.

Could you waste a full life, for the chance at life everlasting?

Sad fact: Simak died on my birthday- April 25th.

Smile :-)

Well, I'm probably tempting fate (so I'm touching wood- no naughty comments please) but, the apartment is nearly completed. I say complete, there are shelves to be installed and painting to be done and re-done, but at least the construction and deconstruction are almost over. We even have a shower! (for close friends, you'll know that we have been making use of the laundry sink for some months now and an actual shower is somewhat of a luxury.

This is all a preamble to me saying, I'm pretty happy.

We are nearly at the end of an extremely stressful time and quick frankly are just looking forward to sitting down in the morning, drinking far too much coffee and taking a few minutes to talk, calmly.

As I said, I'm pretty happy and as a result, would like to share a few photos from our Canada trip that make me smile. I hope you enjoy them.

The Troller Habekost women.

Mauricio, livin'/lovin' life.

I couldn't find the Adult ones.

I know I have large ears, but this was extreme.

Never met this girl before in my life. Best marry her I guess.

When Cla attacks!

The Day After Tomorrow aka Sixth Column

Nope, not the Jake Gyllenhal film, this is the novel by Robert A. Heinlein and it's superb.

Following on with my constant sci-fi obsession, this is the latest in random books I have lately discovered in the second hand book shops of Porto Alegre.

Heinlein was, along with Arthur C.Clarke and Issac Asimov, one of the leaders in scientific sci-fi novels. With a distinctive outlook on future and possible future events and a very accessible writing style, Heinlein takes his readers step by step through his stories, never once assuming anything of them but an avid interest in the genre. This is not to say that his approach is to "dumb-down" his stories, merely to clarify them.

Plot: Following decades of non-interaction with the powerful PanAsian block, the U.S.A is on its knees. Suffering mass defeat and invasion by their conquerors, due to a serious lack of intelligence regarding their enemies. The civilian population is either in camps or pressed into servitude and the only chance for the country lies with the 6 men left in a secret military research facility. As a last act, the military command sends Major Ardmore to take control and mount a unilateral, last ditch attempt to free the US from their new Masters.

Upon reaching the base, Ardmore must decide how to make use of a new, extreme- almost Godly power, manage a skeleton staff and gain intelligence from his mountain fortress as to the movements of the PanAsian lords of the U.S.A.

This story is one of those books that you detest putting down. The ending is all too soon and you find yourself wishing that this novella (not for lack of information but for the sheer joy of the read) was much, much longer.

Highly recommended, as are all the Heinlein novels I've had the pleasure to read so far.