Mosquitoes do not respect boundaries

There are countless things that I am going to miss about living la vida española, namely seeing the sun every day (I will probably succumb to seasonal affective disorder once back in the UK and feel that every grey cloud is some sort of pathetic fallacy to reflect my yearning for sunnier climes) and the wonderful food and drink, which goes without saying. (While there are many Spanish restaurants and tapas bars in the UK, it is not quite the same as basking in the sun on a terrace with a sangría and montadito, all for a couple of euros).

However, there are also many things that I will not miss. The sunshine may be a welcome change for a Brit abroad, but, as the warmer weather creeps in, so do all the pests.

Yesterday, for example, I woke up with this. All I can say is that I must be extremely tasty.

One of the most annoying things about the Spanish summer is the mosquitoes. There is nothing more terrifying than lying in bed at night, just drifting off after a long day, when you hear the high-pitched buzz of a mosquito rush past your ear like a torpedo. It is a hard sound to put into words, but it is as if Lewis Hamilton drove past you at top speed in his F1 car. Nothing can wake you up faster or with more of a jolt. You then have to turn on the light and search for the little bugger before you can rest soundly, knowing that you won't be eaten alive. However, they are stealthy little things and are actually incredibly hard to spot, even more so to kill.

I am not a fan of them, but I have come to accept the inevitability of my being eaten. They seem to like my pale white skin. I prefer to think that I am some sort of exotic delicacy to them (which is rather flattering!) seeing as they normally prey on the olivy-toned skin of the Spanish. My boyfriend, however, is traumatised by the idea, and will sit awake with a can of insect repellent in his hand if needs be, rather than fall asleep and let them win. (Although, having me by his side, he would probably make it to the morning unscathed whereas I would look like I had the measles!)

To try and reassure him, I said: "Don't worry, we don't have mosquitoes in England, so that's one less thing we'll have to worry about".

Then, something I was told years ago came back to me in an instant.

On my gap year nearly ten years ago, I went to Ecuador to work as a volunteer with street children, and about five years ago, I revisited my Ecuadorian family and friends with my best friend Louise. As any good traveller should do, before going, we had our booster vaccinations and went to speak to the nurse about the possibility of anti-malarial tablets. With a country like Ecuador, the risk of malaria varies greatly depending on where you go. For example, its capital city, Quito, is at some 9,350 feet above sea-level, so the chance of being bitten there is slimmer than if you are based down at the coast. To illustrate this to us, the nurse pulled out this map and indicated which areas were more prone to mosquitoes than others.

She turned to us and said, with the most wonderfully dead-pan face you have ever seen and without a hint of irony:

"This area is not a high-risk zone, but remember - mosquitoes don't respect boundaries".

What an absolutely brilliant thing to say! I can just imagine a swarm of mosquitoes patrolling the night sky, wearing goggles and little scarves flailing in the wind, like old-fashioned fighter pilots, looking for their next source of blood, licking their lips (do mosquitoes have lips?) in anticipation. Suddenly, they approach a border and screech to a halt...

"Woah, woah... get back lads! Get back! This is no-mosquitoes land. Entry denied. Let's turn back lads, mission aborted".

So I have it on good authority, from a medical professional no less, that mosquitoes are, in fact, the rebels without causes of the insect world. You can tell them that this is out of bounds, but will they listen? No. They hold absolutely no regard for any laws or restrictions. So, as reassuring as I tried to be, saying that there won't be any mosquitoes in the UK... who knows? Maybe they will throw caution to the wind and come with us!

Lazy Sunday

Good morning! Or should I say afternoon, it is ten past two Spanish time after all... but as I have just eaten pancakes for breakfast and am still in my pyjamas, I think morning is permitted. What a wonderful start to a Sunday! [Note: I am starting to see a bit of a theme, you are going to think I spend all my time in my pyjamas. I honestly don't, it is just a coincidence that the time I have available for blogging is on a weekend morning and I write before getting on with the rest of the day. I'm sure I'm not the first creative type to find inspiration lounging around their house].

On the job front, two deadlines have now passed, so I am anxiously waiting to hear any kind of news from those (and we all know how that goes, see the break-up for details). Also, I came across another opportunity at ITV which would be absolutely wonderful for me, so I have just submitted my application for that too. So that's three fingers in three different pies. Hopefully something will come out of it... fingers crossed! (On the other hand obviously, I can't cross them AND have them in a pie).

In other news, Rafa (my boyfriend) and I are starting to get ourselves organised and take care of the paperwork and other minor irritations involved in changing countries. Vodafone are being particularly unhelpful, as to cancel our mobile internet connection we have to send a copy of our ID number by fax. FAX! I don't know if it is only Spain that is behind the times, but I honestly thought that fax machines had become obsolete and were now only relics worthy of museums. Do people really still use them? I am having similar problems with bank accounts too. Still, it has to be done.

Speaking of things that have to be done, yesterday was taken up with cleaning the house like a madwoman just in case I get "the call" and have to leave with minimal notice. (Positive thinking!) I can't have the landlord or any potential tenants of the flat see it in its normal state, so as of now, we are on our best behaviour.

Personally, I can't believe how quickly time is going... it seems that Christmas was only a few weeks ago, but here we are nearly in June. Hopefully before I know it, I'll be back in the UK working hard. I hope you enjoy the rest of your Sunday, and for those of you lucky devils who have a bank holiday tomorrow, make the most of it... I don't have the day off!

Life's little lessons

**WARNING - Philosophical content**

I used to really enjoy reading Aesop's fables as a child; little stories with a greater allegorical meaning and edifying messages to instruct you on how to live your life. We all know about the tortoise and the hare, and that slow and steady wins the race. I am not denying that this is true, in fact, many times it has been proven to be spot on, but I think that, in its own way, life teaches you its own lessons in the strangest of ways, without the need to turn to a book for the answer.

For instance, I remember very clearly a time at primary school when we were rehearsing a play about the Greek gods. Our teacher, Mrs. Atkins, in her infinite wisdom, decided it was a really good idea to audition the parts out. Very democratic and fair of her you may think. However, it was not her who decided which roles we were given, but our classmates. I can still see it now, we were in the assembly hall and four or five of us had to deliver lines for different parts. Subsequently, the rest of the class voted for who did it best. As if that wasn't traumatic enough for most children to be judged in such a way, I was a particularly sensitive child (I know, it's shocking, isn't it?). Needless to say, primary school was also much like a popularity contest and I was the fat kid who was always chosen last for games. Literally.

So, as the parts were given out and we were working our way down the hierarchy of the deities, and I was still left standing, we finally got to the role of Hermes. My Greek mythology is a little rusty now, but I believe he was the god of travel, communication, language and writing - perfect for me really! (Although according to Wikipedia he was also known for thievery, trickery and athletics (bah!)... maybe not.) He served as a messenger to the gods, with winged sandals to help him travel faster. So, for this role, the actor had to run - lightening fast - from one side of the stage to the other about three times before delivering their lines. So, I ran - or shall I say more accurately, waddled - my way back and forth and the other children, being as cruel as only children are, decided I did it best and that that part was for me. Although if I remember correctly, it may have been the final part to be assigned.

Anyway, as I practised, I became more and more self-conscious about the part and thought that it wasn't for me and that I would end up being ridiculed. Besides, it was very tiring to do all that running. I mentioned my doubts to the teacher and she asked if anyone would like to switch roles with me. Another girl, let's call her Sarah, basically because that was her name, immediately volunteered and in an instant I was demoted to banging a drum off-stage.

I regretted my decision instantly and I was inconsolable. After all, it may have been hard but it was my part, and the grass is always greener on the other side. It was infinitely better than being part of the percussion section! (No offence to any percussionists, I just preferred drama to music). I went home that day and my Mum could tell something was wrong, as even her chocolate-rice-krispie nests couldn't cheer me up. (That's the thing about me, if chocolate can't do it, there is no amount of prozac or any other antidepressant that can lift me out of it). But it was too late, Sarah had my part now, and there was nothing I could do about it. I went on to play that drum as best I could, but I always felt remorse over giving up so easily.

I remember thinking even at that young age that I would learn from the experience and I wouldn't let it happen again. So, although it may seem inane or trivial, what I learned then, was actually of great value:

Don't give up on something so easily and don't be deterred, it may be hard work, but you will regret it if you don't try or see it through.

I'm sure things have happened in your life too, that, from the outside, may seem ridiculous but actually were of great importance to you. It is from these things that we should learn and it will help us infinitely more than an abstract moral from a story.

There are always going to be Sarahs in this world waiting to make the most of an opportunity that you don't, and I can't believe I almost forgot that. Just over a year ago I almost gave up entertaining any notion of breaking into the media because it was too hard or too costly, but I recently remembered this anecdote which helped me to get back on track. It goes to show that you never know what is around the corner.

On that note, I am off to work on my next application...

The Nicaragua Effect

Is there a name for that phenomenon where you are blissfully unaware of something, but as soon as you know what it is, you see it everywhere? Let me explain.

Let's say for example, somebody mentions to you that they are going on a gap year to Nicaragua, it seems something quite random and out-of-the-blue. Something which you would be unlikely to hear again, right? Wrong. As of that moment it is almost guaranteed that you will hear more things about Nicaragua in the following weeks than you have ever heard before in your life. Deidre will suddenly start mentioning Nicaragua in Coronation Street or The X Factor will offer a two-week-all-expenses-paid holiday there as its next prize.

Let's put toasters as another example; yours breaks and you want to buy a new one. So you do.. Simple enough. Then, you suddenly start seeing toasters / toaster ads / toast everywhere. (I don't mean that pieces of toast run after you down the street or anything, I'm not paranoid). I can't be the only one this has happened to, surely?

The question is, am I more aware of it because of my heightened sensibility to the subject and it has always been there but I just didn't notice it before, or is it some kind of universal conspiracy and has just coincidentally started at the same time? The 'chicken-and-egg'-ness of it all is enough to drive you crazy, and I am sure there are many differing opinions on the matter (which, by the way, you are more than welcome to leave in the comments below).

It came to my mind this week though because it seems that now I have decided to make a change, it is everywhere. Some of my friends on Facebook have written things saying that “it is never too late to start again” and they are so happy that they decided to change careers etc. I do think though that it is solid advice, and that you are never too old to try something new. Life is too short to do something that you aren't passionate about, so just go for it.

On that note, I have been tweeting away and connecting with some old contacts, and it couldn't have gone better!

The BBC even replied to my tweet saying my last blog entry was “very witty” and told me to keep at it. I have applied for work experience with them and am waiting for news on that, and some contacts at the BBC have given me some great advice and said they will help me out if necessary, so things are looking up. A couple of interesting jobs have cropped up too, so I'll throw my hat into the ring. Who knows, you've got to be in it to win it!

I'll finish today with my phrase of the week:

The break-up

As I'm sat on the sofa in my pyjamas and have to shamefully admit that before eleven o'clock in the morning I have already cracked open the homemade chocolate fudge, it has suddenly dawned on me that applying to the BBC or ITV for work experience is a lot like going through a break-up.

To start with, you have the constant need to check your email every two minutes and look at your phone to see if they have called. You know damn well they haven't, but somehow you convince yourself that possibly it went off while you were in the bathroom or while you were in the kitchen stocking up on nerve-abating junk. (Which you also know is not true, because you take your phone with you everywhere, even to the loo, just in case the Head of the BBC or ITV phones you to say you are an inspiration and you absolutely must work for them immediately. Hey... it could happen, a lot of life-changing moments can happen on the porcelain throne, I've read "Love it!" magazine enough times to know that you can enter the WC thinking you need the toilet and come out with a baby. And need I even mention Elvis?)

When the inevitable happens and the phone doesn't ring, you start over-analysing everything you said (or didn't say for that matter) in the application and, if you were lucky enough, the interview. The "if-onlys" set in... "If only I had mentioned more volunteer work... I shouldn't have used this word instead of that one... I forgot to mention the high-school newspaper that I worked on in 1998!! Noooo!"

Then comes the lowest point as with any break up... desperation. Maybe I should write to them to ask about the status of the application? Maybe I should apply again in a different way? I CAN BE ANYTHING YOU WANT ME TO BE... GIVE ME A CHANCE!!!

Stalking them on Facebook doesn't help either, there they are, happily uploading photos of their life without you in it and tweeting about their next trainee scheme. They move on, and quickly. You scour the profiles of people they have chosen and think maliciously "What does she have that I don't? A degree in broadcast journalism? Cow. I could have had one of those if I had wanted."

Sometimes they have the decency to let you know that it's not you, it's them... there were hundreds of applicants and the quality of applications was higher than ever. However, sometimes they just don't return your calls and if you haven't heard from them in a few months, you can take yourself as dumped.

The course of action to "get over" it varies from person to person. Maybe you will go out drinking with your friends and say sod them... it's their loss. Maybe you will listen longingly to podcasts and eat your weight in häagen-dazs (a la Bridget Jones). Personally, I think I will throw myself into lots of rebound relationships and whore myself out, work experience at this company, helping out at that one... Who knows, I might succeed in making them jealous.

Finding the balance

As they would say in my beloved second language, "Es de buen nacido, ser agradecido..." (which roughly translates as "It's a good trait to be grateful"). I fully believe in the fact that good manners cost nothing, and something that I am particularly proud of as a Brit is our tendency to be overly polite (compared to other nations) linguistically and behaviourally speaking. For example, we do say our Ps and Qs after everything, which is something you don't see as often here in Spain. Nobody here would bat an eyelid if you said "Give me a coffee" in the imperative at the local café, or answered the phone with a seemingly impatient "Yes?". Anyway, I digress. What I want to say is thank you.

After my last entry, I received several messages on Facebook from friends wishing me luck on my new venture, and some also gave me some very-much-welcomed (and needed) words of advice too. A huge thank you to everyone who got in touch with me, or even mentioned in passing that you had read the blog, I really appreciate it. Honestly, it's such a nice feeling to know that people are behind you and support you, and although it's going to be really difficult, you have all reassured me that I am doing the right thing...

... which is nice when you have had a week like this one! It hasn't been easy and I haven't been able to update this blog as frequently as I would have liked to due to an increasing workload. (The Daily Kayleigh is becoming "The Sporadic Kayleigh" at best, but it doesn't quite have the same pizazz). On top of that, I only have a 1GB dongle at home which reaches its capacity basically as soon as you even look at it so you can forget doing anything too adventurous like watching a video or have any prolonged internet usage. I do plan on replying to all the messages I have though, especially those with advice in, and think carefully about what I can do next.

I have spent today working on my BBC work experience application form, trying to make sure that I include all the relevant keywords while also keeping within the word limit. It's finding the balance between being concise, but not too brief, and demonstrating your experience and enthusiasm all at the same time. So, as I have said, I've spent hours on it today but will finally submit it tomorrow when I can read over it with fresh eyes. The little voice of the niggling pessimist in me says it will only get discarded anyway, so why bother? But, as my Dad says "If something is worth doing, it is worth doing well". That is something that, although there are momentary flickers of doubt, I also truly believe in.

I am currently finishing up my contract here as the Head of Studies in a language academy here in Spain, and although I want to completely dedicate myself to getting ahead in broadcasting, I know I can't yet until I see this through. It's an integrity thing; I can't do anything half-heartedly (apart from cleaning obviously) and hopefully I never will. So, I am divided between the two things and am trying to give as much of myself as I can to each one. Thank goodness summer is just around the corner, eh?

Off to a great start

Running on the impetus and excitement of finally seeing things clearly, and having a better idea of what I have to do to get into "the media", only days after setting this blog up, I sent messages to professionals that I know in the industry asking for advice and tips.

I also thought I would try my luck and tweet Louise Minchin, as, despite not knowing her personally, she also graduated from St. Andrews with a degree in Spanish. (In case you don't know who Louise Minchin is, she is a presenter on BBC Breakfast and has also presented The One show - click on her name in this blog to access her homepage). Imagine my surprise, when, a few hours later, she had responded to me personally giving me some ideas, telling me to keep in touch and wishing me luck in Spanish!

The fact she has written to me has really motivated me to keep going. In my eyes, she has the perfect career - she has successfully combined her passions of Spanish and journalism, which is what I would absolutely love to do. What's more is that she couldn't have been nicer. I always think it's refreshing when successful people take the time to help others out, whether it be by giving advice or in other ways. I hereby pledge that if I ever reach a similar level of success as Louise that I too will try to assist the next generation in getting their foot in the door!

On that note, I am going to start applying for work experience today. Fingers crossed and, as Louise said, wish me "suerte"!

The long-awaited second issue...

To make sense of this blog, I have to take you on a journey to the past. Almost 20 years ago, I wanted to be a writer. I used to write all sorts of stories, fuelled by an over-active imagination, too much free time and many invisible friends to serve as inspiration. I even dabbled in poetry, once writing a magnificent ode to my cat. (Though I'm not sure she appreciated it).

This passion for writing was eventually channelled when I decided I wanted to be a journalist. Thus, "The Daily Kayleigh" was born. (The catchy name was my father's brainchild and was perhaps a little optimistic seeing as it took me months to complete my first and subsequently last "issue"). Indeed, I would come home every day after school armed with a dictaphone and work on my newspaper which had everything - news, horoscopes, a sports section, and I'm pretty sure I even created a crossword, which, in the days before internet and only Encarta for reference, was no mean feat!

As I grew older, and I completed work experience at different local newspapers, my passion changed and I wanted to explore the world of broadcast journalism. My Mum always said I had a fantastic face for radio, so why not! I started at Hospital Radio and did what I could, and was told by a couple of contacts that I should not study "media" as far too many people had this degree and that I should differentiate myself by studying something unrelated. This advice went on to shape my academic career as I went on to excel at Spanish at St. Andrews university.

To cut a long story short, though I was an active member of the student radio station, after 5 long years at university and my first rejection from the BBC, after graduation I skulked off to Spain hoping to make some money. What should have been one year quickly turned into three after meeting my wonderful boyfriend here.

...Which brings us to the current date. Recently I have been thinking about what I want to do with my life, and the realisation is that I have always known - it is broadcast journalism. I just told myself a couple of years ago that I was too old to do it now, and at the age of 27 I was too old to do free work experience to build up my CV but too inexperienced to enter into a job at the BBC. Now I am thinking I was wrong. So, I am taking a risk. I am leaving my life in Spain behind, to return to live with my father in Manchester and get out there and try and make it as a broadcast assistant or researcher to start off with.

I know it all sounds very "American Movie", and *cue the sentimental music and slow motion sequences* I hope I can achieve my dream.

I have been reading around the subject online, and I read some advice that writers should, well... write. I know, the idea is so unbelievably profound that it's no wonder I didn't come up with it myself. But, it did give me the kick up the bum that I needed. I decided that it was time "The Daily Kayleigh" was resurrected and brought up-to-date into the 21st century, in the form of a blog.

They also say "write about what you know", so this blog is going to document the trials and tribulations of a young woman trying to get into her ideal career, as well as other day-to-day trivialities. It's not going to be easy, and I'm expecting several hundred more rejections yet, but at least, as an old woman I'll be able to say I gave it a go. And hey, if all else fails, I'll become a cat lady and write many many odes more.