Having flounced out of the house because of the intolerable
noise of the renovations next door I made my way (by bike) to the town library
– an imposing modern building with desks (and an electricity supply) for those
wanting to work.
Finding the
socket was the first problem when I had found a desk heartbreakingly close to
the library’s collection of books on painting.
This is usually the kiss of death for any work that I might do as the
lure of the lavishly illustrated books is usually an irresistible temptation
for me. I have however found the
fortitude to stay my eyes from the luxury of paint and have stuck to some sort
of travail.
Admittedly, I
have not (yet) done any of the work that ostensibly brought me to the library in
the first place, but work of a sort has been done. I have written three stanzas for the memory
poem and generally considered that the rest of the writing that I have done for
it is woefully inadequate and simply un-poetic.
The ideas might be interesting, but the way in which I have written them
is too prosaic for my taste – and it doesn’t sound right when I say the lines!
I have, therefore
decided to rest that particular effort and turn to my languishing blog. For someone who professes to be a writer, I
sometimes evince a totally reprehensible disinclination to practice my
art.
However, when it
comes to displacement activity, I am truly one of the Greats. Hence, my fingers pattering along the
keyboard of my trusty MacBook Air. This
has become the machine that I take to public places where it might be stolen,
because my Dell is simply too expensive to be put into a position of possible
pilferation and so stays largely unused at home. That logic is not entirely convincing, but it
will have to remain as the explanation for my actions.
In the way that
irony follows me around, no sooner had I sat down and plugged myself into the
power supply and typed the first words, than a whole horrendousness of children
broke into their atavistic caterwauling outside the library and a group of
public street drummers started playing their instruments. But that sound was muted through plate glass
and concrete and, anyway, the sound of rhythmic beats and young humans in full yell
is nothing like so debilitating as the bone reverberating sound of workmen
mindlessly (to the listener) hammering a party wall that amplifies and
encourages sonic augmentation.
Well, the sounds
soon stopped and I only had to contend with the incessant conversation of the librarians
at reception whose conversations fill the ample open stairways in the centre of
the building. On the other hand they add
a touch of humanity to a space that can sound funereal in the total absence of
human talk. And silence can be
distracting too!
Now on to the reason for my being here in the first place:
the looming Catalan examination. I
should leave that sentence as a sort of gateway to learning, and stop typing
and get on with the hard work of forcing Catalan concepts into my antagonistically
resilient brain. So I will. After I have been to the loo.
Back at my machine
and, if you are wondering why I have not got down to the real work that I am
supposed to be doing, then I will just say that when I went to the loo, I
actually left my MacBook Air (open and on) at my desk. Unattended.
Such is one of the advantages of being in a civilized place like
Castelldefels. I merely followed the
example of the gentleman at the end of our row of desks who did the same. Perhaps I should not be saying this in my
blog, it is surely an open invitation to opportunistic thieves who prowl about
seeking whom they might devour. But now,
work, Catalan!
And I actually did do some vocabulary work. I am still confused by the accents which, as
I have said before, go in all directions and attach themselves to more letters
than I have heretofore encountered.
Still, some letters only have the accents going in one direction, so
that should make my work easier. As long
as I can remember which letters they are.
And, of course, the direction!
Well, I have two and a half days left.
Think what can be achieved! Even
by me.
Now I am going on
to the more problematic element in the exam: the writing. We know that we have a choice of two topics:
one connected to our homes and the other an email to a friend. As you can get away with more lists in the
‘home’ option (thereby mitigating the need for over many verbs, adjectives and
adverbs) I think I might give that one a go.
I have recently learned the Catalan word for ‘nightmare’ which is
‘malson’ and I am bloody determined to work that in somewhere to describe the
work going on next door.
I have to admit
that I am adept at constructing pieces of writing in translation which are
heavy on the use of all and any language reference books that I can get my
hands on, and yet make the final piece of writing sound like a convincing
attempt by an enthusiastic, if inept, learner!
It’s a sort of skill – but not one much called for.
The trick I need
for next Friday and the exam, is to have a store of key phrases that will lift
my ‘listy’ vocab-heavy stodge into something a little more interesting and
lively. All I am looking for is a pass. Just a pass. Please.
