My homie ain't got a ride or no loot

I have no idea whatsoever what that subject line means but that song has been playing on a loop for about fifteen minutes now. I'm at a computer terminal inside Queen Ethelburga's College (seriously) in the boonies outside of York, England, where I'm teaching a 3 week summer camp. Since it's summer camp and three weeks is no long enough to get boring, it's passing by fairly well so far (on day 3 as we speak). As always, the fun part will be wether or not I'll get paid. The wages are a princely 225 pounds per week, which they have the gall to tax but the food (which is not bad) and the housing (which, after Korea and Poland, is downright majestic) are both free. Plus we're way out in the sticks so there is no place to go and nothing to buy. Think of it as a high-class interment camp. And best of all--there will be Koreans!

Yes! Starting next week, legions of kimchi-stained youth whose worldview extends as far as Dokdo, will descend upon the masses to pull their armhair and poke their bottoms. Not mine however. Oh no....

I'm teaching hormonal Italian and French teenagers. Anyhoo, camp goes until the end of the month and then I will try for another camp or maybe even a respectable job. If there is such a thing.

I am learning heaps about the most quintessential of all English traits, namely looking down on others. York and Leeds are in the north of England an area viewed by those down south as an economic and cultural wasteland populated by drunken incestous unemployed men with bad hair. Clearly those who hold this opinion have never been to Arkansas.

On another note, I am glad to see Ari has introduced himself to readers of this fine piece of literature. He, in turn, may be either glad or disturbed to know that my acting skills are being put to use at tonights' talent show where I have been selected to perform as a cross-dresser. Pictures will follow.