I was working at the co-op earlier. I write there a couple of days a week so I don’t go mad and feral working on my own. This co-op is also the place I recently did a Spanish cookery course; some of you will have seen my surprisingly impressive creations on my FB page. However, while I was pretty bueno in the cooking department, I was unforgivably shite at speaking Spanish. Which is embarrassing, because I lived and travelled in South America for a VERY long time. At the end of the final class, I said to Eli, our teacher, ‘I don’t think my Spanish has improved at all since taking this course. That’s dreadful!’ Eli had a little think and then said, ‘Well, it hasn’t got any worse.’
The shame! Oh, how I laughed.
Anyway, I bumped into a girl from the course earlier, while I was skiving off writing in the kitchen, and almost threw myself on her because I realised that I could – at last – talk to her in ENGLISH! Which meant having an ACTUAL CONVERSATION! And a PERSONALITY! I’d forgotten what it’s like to speak a foreign language you’re crap at. If you allow it to be, it can be a very frustrating and infantilising experience. So much to say and yet insufficient words to do so. Often, I’d sit in the corner trying to string a sentence together and I’d want to yell, ‘Please let me tell you that I’m FUNNY in English. I’ve got a personality! I’ve got good jokes! I’m a grownup with a vocubulary! HONESTLY!’ But I couldn’t even say that without checking a bloody dictionary. Gah.
So, today, my smily moment has been speaking English. Basic, and unconscious, but cracking nonetheless.
Er, and about that picture. I was just scrolling for something to use and saw that and thought, phwoar. I’ll probably never look that good again. Not without several hours in hair and make up at least. Let’s bloody unleash it on my readers.