“The message left on my answerphone had intrigued me: two policewomen whose main interest in foreign language learning was to sing karaoke. How do you prepare a lesson with these two? No use planning a quick dash through the Present Perfect. If anything, it was going to have to be Sing Something Present Simple.” Graeme coaches El Duo Dinámico…
“There is no point in resenting the fact that your fingerprints are to be forever-and-ever-olé on some petty functionary’s computer, nor worth protesting that ‘back home we don’t do that kind of thing’. You have to go with a submissive ‘here-unto-you-I-present-my-fingers-do-with them-what-you-will’ attitude.” Dr Graeme Porte applies for his Spanish ID card.
“I stood up, recognised a 3/4 rhythm, and tried to spot myself in the mirror. Not difficult. I was the only one moving sideways instead of forwards, stomping two seconds late, holding half a castanet wrapped round my thumb the other round the wrist, and wearing corduroy trousers.” Graeme attends a class himself – a dancing class.
“I groaned inwardly. So, no money again, then. I came to call them my ‘Russian classes’ – goods in exchange for knowledge, consommés for consonants in the present case. Expanding my stomach rather than my wallet.” Dr Graeme Porte’s latest students – restaurateurs – offer payment in kind rather than cash!
“While still regaining his breath, Mr Jesús María d’Avila opened hostilities: ‘Plis, …Ah must to eensist…joo coll me just Jesus.’ ‘Just Jesus?’ ‘No… Ah em… only Jesus, noothink more. Not Mary, plis.’ He was at least humility – if not divinity – personified…” Dr Graeme Porte extends his student list!
‘”Joo mus hilp me,” Manolo threatened. “Ah haf ingleesh ixam for entering Deeplomatic sirvis in Joon. Ah mus pars.” His accent was as engaging as the content bewildering.’ Dr Graeme Porte takes on his first English language student—and opens the door to a world of confusion…