A First Supper

13th April 2017 Now I’ve explored (from time to time) the self-loathing of the bottom of a bottle. But I’ve not often resorted to vodka to do so. (Beer and wine usually fill my particular void). Our new Polish housemate took us for dinner at Mamúska in Elephant and Castle. Anyone who knows that area of…

Bologna IV: Ciao, Ciao for Now

30th March – 1st April 2017 My last days in Bologna followed a similar trend: lots of food and lots of talking.  An older English woman in my class was growing increasingly frustrated with the school. She had lerned (and then taught) French in the old-school style of studying Latin and Ancient Greek; and although…

Bologna III: Getting my Hands Dirty

28th – 29th March 2017 Day two of my Italian course went smoothly. We were sudying direct and indirect peronal pronouns. Useful. Not much of a story there. I went for lunch with an Italian girl I’d met the night before. In the old market district, the streets still carry the names of the produce…

Bologna II: Styling it out

27th March 2017 An aunt of mine learnt German without studying or classes; but by spending a few months in the country. She learned “by ear”. I have nothing but envy for people like her. Others must study: grammar, vocabulary, syntax, pronunciation-through-phonetics. For them, languages are logical, rule-based and can be calculated. I don’t have enough…

Bologna I: New Worlds

2011 – 2012 Did I already mention I did a year abroad? in Paris? It gets worse. I drank wine on terraces while watching the world go past. And ate steak-frites. I walked through Montmartre. At night. In the rain (probably, at some point). I didn’t smoke gauloises. And I’ll forever regret it. I sat…