Children are not Labradors.
I have only the one approach to children under the age of three or four: treat them like dogs. Well, not ‘dogs’ qua dogs, but as that most majestic of selfish breeds Labradors. My method has always been to whip them up into frenzies and then walk away.
This always works: until it doesn’t.
The “doesn’t” part is when a stray hysterical childish hand destroys a lamp shade which is part of the flat and which, because of its age cannot be replaced. And it’s made of paper!
Thank god for super glue! In spite of its professed ineffectiveness on things like paper, it worked for me, it looks ok and that is all that matters as it’s part of the flat owner’s property and not ours!
Tomorrow is a momentous day – I start my Spanish Lessons. Two hours twice a week. I am trembling with terror at the mere thought of being thrust into a class with god knows who and at god knows what level. No teacher likes being taught and no teacher can abide not striving to do better than most. Why should I be any different? Oh God!
One books is going to have to come out of hibernation: the snappily entitled ‘501 Spanish Verbs’ this is indeed as boring as its title suggests and is, at the same time, utterly indispensable in attempting to communicate with some accuracy in Spanish.
For a year now I have attempted to make myself understood by using as few verbs as possible, probably sounding like a slightly affected and overdressed Tarzan. I have had conversations about history, religion, art and politics in all of which I must have come over linguistically as a well informed Neanderthal: whose manners were light years ahead of his command of Spanish!
This has to stop. I can no longer have dialogues with intelligent cultured people with my sounding like some sort of throwback to an antediluvian time in the genetic pool!
This time round I even promise to do my homework.
I have a feeling that rash statement will come back to haunt me.
Within days!
I have only the one approach to children under the age of three or four: treat them like dogs. Well, not ‘dogs’ qua dogs, but as that most majestic of selfish breeds Labradors. My method has always been to whip them up into frenzies and then walk away.
This always works: until it doesn’t.
The “doesn’t” part is when a stray hysterical childish hand destroys a lamp shade which is part of the flat and which, because of its age cannot be replaced. And it’s made of paper!
Thank god for super glue! In spite of its professed ineffectiveness on things like paper, it worked for me, it looks ok and that is all that matters as it’s part of the flat owner’s property and not ours!
Tomorrow is a momentous day – I start my Spanish Lessons. Two hours twice a week. I am trembling with terror at the mere thought of being thrust into a class with god knows who and at god knows what level. No teacher likes being taught and no teacher can abide not striving to do better than most. Why should I be any different? Oh God!
One books is going to have to come out of hibernation: the snappily entitled ‘501 Spanish Verbs’ this is indeed as boring as its title suggests and is, at the same time, utterly indispensable in attempting to communicate with some accuracy in Spanish.
For a year now I have attempted to make myself understood by using as few verbs as possible, probably sounding like a slightly affected and overdressed Tarzan. I have had conversations about history, religion, art and politics in all of which I must have come over linguistically as a well informed Neanderthal: whose manners were light years ahead of his command of Spanish!
This has to stop. I can no longer have dialogues with intelligent cultured people with my sounding like some sort of throwback to an antediluvian time in the genetic pool!
This time round I even promise to do my homework.
I have a feeling that rash statement will come back to haunt me.
Within days!
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