Weekly Lesson Audio: The House Guest
Weekly Lesson Audio: The House Guest. Weekly Lessons: Previous weekly lesson | Weekly Lessons archive | Next weekly lesson
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Weekly Lesson Audio: The House Guest. Weekly Lessons: Previous weekly lesson | Weekly Lessons archive | Next weekly lesson
Weekly Lesson: The House Guest. For study until 6th of October 2024 Subject : The House Guest Audio : On usual social media platforms.
For study until 6th of October 2024
Subject: The House Guest
Audio: On usual social media platforms.
When I heard that a friend was coming to visit for a few days, my heart sank. As a typical British man, I know that friends staying over, usually causes a lot of stress. I had no particular beef with the person himself, but I knew that a guest staying would throw a spanner into the works of my daily routine. These days, British people are not so hospitable. All of us want our “personal space” so staying at hotels usually allows us more time to do what we want instead of being tied down to particular moments such as eating with the host family etc.
Continue reading “Weekly Lesson: The House Guest”Weekly Lesson Audio: A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery). Weekly Lessons: Previous weekly lesson | Weekly Lessons archive | Next weekly lesson
Weekly Lesson: A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery). For study until 29th of September 2024 Subject : A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery) Audio : On usual social media platforms.
For study until 29th of September 2024
Subject: A Trip to the Vet’s (Surgery)
Audio: On usual social media platforms.
I heard an American Politician talking the other day about vets and it crossed my mind that these doctors who are caring for our little fluffy friends are somehow very important in American English. Actually, he was abbreviating the word “veteran” as in “war veteran”. On this side of the pond a vet is a veterinary surgeon, not a veteran. It took me a while to work that one out. Especially when he talked about their valuable contribution to the country.
Anyway, On Saturday morning I once again found myself with the pet carrier discussing British weather with the vet. It always feels familiar:
“Good morning, miserable weather isn’t it?”
“Yes it really is….. was worse yesterday”
“Yes… yesterday was bad”.
Only after the obligatory small talk was I able to move on and bring the conversation round to the topic of my cat.
“Oh look at this little sausage” she gleaned…..
Both my cat, and myself stared bitterly. This was the second vet in two weeks who referred to him as a cute sausage. It seemed a bit of a strange thing to say. I mean it is known that British people don’t celebrate food. Why would they call my cat a “sausage”? My cat rolled his eyes and made a noise and hissed. I assured her it wasn’t personal. Anyway, what kind of sausage was she referring to?
Referring to a beef sausage could upset me because I’m vegetarian.
Referring to a pork sausage could upset just about everyone who follows a religion other than Christianity.
Referring to a vegetarian sausage might be ok – but why would she compare my cat to a vegetarian sausage?
My mind slowly drifted back, especially when the cat attacked the scales which were there to weigh him.
“He actually hates everyone” I quipped “It’s not just you”.
“I am usually very good with black and white cats” she replied. Her remark was an incredibly weird thing to say. It reminded me of some kind of speed dating event. My mind drifted to the only speed dating event I ever attended. It was in a sushi bar I was more interested in the sushi passing by on the belt. The fried tempura prawns were delicious, but I also discovered that I love raw salmon. I don’t remember any of the people from that day but I do remember the dishes.
My mind returned to the situation on hand…“Cat stereotyping?” I thought. “black and white cats like me more?”
We got into the usual conversation about how strange cats can be, neither of us noticed that my cat had been eyeing up the PC and had decided to chew her monitor cable. He jumped off the table just as the screen went black.
“Oh he’s such a cutie” she nervously laughed, before advising me to get his teeth checked as she disconnected the power on her computer.
“He’s definitely obese” – “8 kilograms”. The cat and I looked puzzled. Obese is such a hard word for anyone to hear. It seemed like only yesterday a nurse was talking about my diabetes and told me the very same thing. I could feel his pain. Was this the vet’s revenge for the chewed cable?
“That’s 1.52 stone” she muttered under her breath…
“Ahh – now I get it” – Kilograms mean nothing to me.
“Yes, I’m also not ok with the metric system” was her reply.
Then came the uncomfortable conversation about the bill. It felt like that moment at the end of the movie where you think to yourself “the movie has finished? What about that last character, and what about that storyline and that character…” So many unanswered questions.
“So…. That’s £140.58 pence please…”
“OK” – I answered
“Any plans for today? – back to the awful weather?” she uttered to try and break the ice a bit.
“Not really – I need to clean my apartment”
She petted Ptofi, he hissed at her and then bit her…..
“Oh I think he likes you” I commented while she winced in pain.
“its my perfume” she said….. “they always go crazy for it”.
I thought for a second that maybe I had missed some undercurrent in this conversation. Did she realise that he “wasn’t going crazy for it” – he just bit her…which for me means he didn’t like it but I decided to ignore her words.
While clutching my American Express card I carried the cat to the till. The receptionist blew loads of kisses at him, He turned and faced the other way and then we launched into a really weird conversation:
“How do I claim this from my pet Insurance?”
“If you have pet insurance we will tell them”
“I do have pet insurance”
“If you have that’s great”
“Would you like the details”
“If you have them that would be great”
I was getting kind of tired of all these “if’s” and handed her the policy number. Direct communication usually gets easier once you pay people.
Then my cat Ptofi and I booked a taxi and went home, the cat felt better, my wallet felt lighter and the vet was £140 pounds better off. The whole thing reminded me of a series of British public information videos called “Charley Says…” which they used to show on TV. You should YouTube them, they are very strange and eccentrically British. A talking cat with a little boy who translates the voice of his pet cat called Charley.
Anyway, my cat was later admitted to an emergency animal hospital on Saturday afternoon, where he still is. The hospital called me a few times to say that he keeps biting everyone. So I guess he’s making a good recovery and I am hoping to pick him up later today.
Note to myself, for later: Head to a sushi bar this week, to relax.
Weekly Lesson Audio: Killer Cows. Weekly Lessons: Previous weekly lesson | Weekly Lessons archive | Next weekly lesson
Weekly Lesson: Killer Cows. For study until 22nd of September 2024 Subject : Killer Cows Audio : On usual social media platforms.
For study until 22nd of September 2024
Subject: Killer Cows
Audio: On usual social media platforms.
Embellishment is a big part of storytelling in some parts of the UK, especially in Scotland and Ireland. When I first heard about cows killing people I rolled my eyes. As far as I was concerned this was another one of my Grandmother’s tall tales.
Continue reading “Weekly Lesson: Killer Cows”Weekly Lesson: Doors Open Day 2024. For study until 15th of September 2024 Subject : Doors Open Day Audio : On usual social media platforms.
For study until 15th of September 2024
Subject: Doors Open Day
Audio: On usual social media platforms.
When I am out and about one of my little joys is discovering new buildings, architecture and exploring different places. I really love taking pictures of every nook and cranny that I can possibly access. With that in mind you can imagine then that I really look forward to Doors Open Day, that weekend of the year when my town suddenly loosens its chains and I can access anywhere. Such as local Courthouses or underground tunnels beneath one of the main streets. Even local businesses jump on the bandwagon and are keen to show their wares.
Across the country around September time, the doors of old buildings are flung open for around two days and members of the public can go and explore them. The great thing is that every area has their own weekend so for the whole month, you can visit old buildings in surrounding areas and see inside some of these amazing structures.
Of course some of these places offer us great examples of Victorian kitsch. Famous and popular in their day but now presenting us with laughter, head scratching and incredulity. For example, there are a number of Victorian swimming pools, grand in their appearance with colourful marble and with roman pillars at the entrance. There are others which offer us a glimpse of history, into a time long forgotten, reminding us how we used to live. Forgotten metro stations, underground streets for example.
As always on Doors Open weekend, I scour the Internet searching for the places I want to visit. It feels a bit like that euphoria you get when you buy a lottery ticket. “This time you are going to win for sure” you tell yourself, but yet somewhere inside you know that your expectations aren’t going to be met.
The list of places for Doors Open Day looked something like this:
The Old Church – Hmm – I did that last year
The Abbey – Eh, no, I got married there, that was enough
The Courthouse – Exciting last year but not this year
The Cemetery – Seriously? No. Besides, I was there last week
The Observatory – yeah, yeah, a possibility
The Library – really, there’s no way. I was there for its opening
The University – there’s no way
The old Prison – Um… why does that sound exciting to me?
So finally I decided upon another local Church that no one ever goes to. In fact attendance is so low that it will be closing its doors permanently in the near future. It was only a short walking distance away.
As I approached the main door, a woman stepped forward wearing a navy coloured business suit and pearls:
“Feel free to walk around” she said in a way that sounded almost menacing… “don’t forget to check out our refurbished Victorian toilet suite” she beamed.
I had completely forgotten, British people are immensely proud of toilets, toilet humour and things associated with the body.
“Um… thanks ok” I responded, trying not to show how bizarre the whole thing sounded….
“Would you like a…(pause, stare) magazine?” she continued.
“Eh yes…. (pause, stare) I’ll take one” I smiled and walked a few steps away. I never understood why Churches always seem to be full of people with fake upper class English accents. Our class system died years ago, yet there are many people here who would love to keep that going. I put my best Received Pronunciation on rerun – just to make her feel comfortable. She’d certainly met her match, if she was trying to play a game of accents with me.
“How lovely” I responded.
Attending Church in the UK can be a little bit creepy and she reminded me of all the reasons why I like spending Sunday mornings at home cooking or talking to people on Skype. Her attempt at smiling seemed terribly out of date with red lipstick stuck to the front of her teeth – clearly this Church wasn’t accustomed to visitors.
By the time she had another victim, the woman who walked in after me, I had moved on:
“I love your bracelet” I heard from a distance.
“Oh this little trinket…?” she commented as she revealed a chunk of gold twisted around her wrist.
I was half expecting two security guards, employed solely to guard the bracelet to emerge from the darkened corners because that chunk of gold looked expensive. This Guide clearly didn’t come from my side of town.
I toured the Church – it was nice and had all the charm of a prison, it even had bars on the windows. Then of course I followed the signs to their top attraction – the Victorian toilet which had its own security guard, to remind us that it’s “for display only” (in other words don’t try to use it). I didn’t quite know what to say about it. I mean it really was a toilet made of marble.
“It was put in, in 1897” she murmured…
“Great, yes…” I replied, slotting into politeness and small talk mode.
She must have been at least age 70 with a hair style which I hadn’t see since Prince Andrew’s marriage to Sarah Ferguson in the 1980s. Hence the term “Fergie Bow” – a type of hairstyle tied back in a piece of linen cloth. Just as Princess Catherine is called “Kate”, Diana was called “Di”. Sarah is “Fergie”.
“Oh well, I have to dash…..” – “it’s been lovely” I chirped… backing away towards the door.
I was grateful for the experience but the British eccentricity was overpowering and so was the general discomfort of mixing with others. It was greatly reassuring to sense they felt the same way.
As these old buildings find other uses and are converted into gyms, bars, nightclubs and even Ikea shops. I wonder how much longer the sense of the sacred will be preserved and whether these Doors Open Days will be a thing of the past. Until then they remain stark reminders, of the British Empire, complete with war memorials, roll books, gold and silver. Keeping alive the very thing the rest of us are trying to forget. Yet very soon Religion here will be a thing of the past.
Our state sponsored Christian Churches like the Church of England along with the Military and Parliament represent something eccentrically and uniquely British. Three sides of the same triangle. It’s hard to imagine a trinity with one part missing. A country with only Military and Parliament sounds more like some kind of South American Dictatorship. Change is coming but what that looks like, nobody knows.
What’s coming next? That’s the key question.
Weekly Lesson Audio – Return to Education. Weekly Lessons: Previous weekly lesson | Weekly Lessons archive | Next weekly lesson
Weekly Lesson: The Return to Education. For study until 8th of September 2024 Subject : The Return to Education Audio : On usual social media platforms Deciding to go back to study at University sounded enthralling.
For study until 8th of September 2024
Subject: The Return to Education
Audio: On usual social media platforms
Deciding to go back to study at University sounded enthralling. It brought back memories of Education when I was younger. Being part of something, a time when we all knew for sure we were loved and affirmed by forming deeper friendships.
As I work in the Education sector, I am very aware of the changing face of teaching but this was going to be interesting. To be on the other side of the classroom for a change, not the one in front of the class. It came as a bit of a shock to find that “Campus life” was simply online. Opening a new tab on my browser is hardly the same as bursting through the University doors wearing too much aftershave and white socks in 1987.
My first day arrived and I was feeling intrepid. It was something of a relief to find an Internet room full of middle-aged cynical bitter looking faces staring at me. I was expecting teenagers. Arriving into an Internet video chat is like changing a TV channel, you give it a few seconds to gauge what it’s like before you feel altogether settled and you are immediately hit with feelings but you don’t quite know what they are yet.
I am no stranger to Internet chats, but this was one of the few times I was in a room full of native speakers – that was a bit of a game changer. The balance of power felt different – these people had years of experience of judging others and there was no language barrier to protect me from that. I felt like I was being X-rayed and anxiously awaiting the results. For the first time in a long time, I was vulnerable in an online learning environment.
The song “Forever Young” by Alphaville played in my mind. Jeez, they were more cynical than I was – this was not about having fun, for them, they were more concerned about funding. Their online background scenery was interesting, some people lying in bed, others sitting on the sofa, some empty chairs and a few with cameras turned off. Was this really the new definition of diversity at University?
I’d forgotten how much American Psychology had crept in over the years. The Tutors had been told to tell us one exciting fact about their personal lives. I really didn’t care who had driven a tank through a desert or who makes kitsch medieval tapestries when they aren’t out walking dogs. My mind drifted, Forever Young played in my head again as I remembered the first day of University the first time round. I was studying Theology and Philosophy back then, we should in theory have been very well behaved kids with such a serious subject but we weren’t, we were crazy maladjusted kids with a tutor who looked like a relic from the Dark ages. Riding brightly coloured cars, wearing crazy hats and listening to Elton John defined us, we were teenagers.
I was quickly brought down to earth again with a thump when another student asked me the question:
“Tell us something about yourself Joseph?”
“I’m an avid traveller” I quipped looking around the screen to see who was listening. Most of them were busy surfing the web – I doubt the answer even registered with them “and happily married” I quickly added. That last comment got the attention of a few people and clearly raised a few eyebrows.
“Great”, she cackled voraciously.
“My first husband was like you…. Not the happily married bit, I mean…. He travelled” while she took another puff of the cigarette and then stubbed it out in the ashtray, blowing smoke in the air…..
“What about you Sonia?” she said in a loud gritty voice moving her head around the screen to her next victim.
“Oh by the way, are all of our lectures on Fridays? I have the grandchildren the rest of the week” she chortled.
No one else seemed to care except for one woman who kept sending me private messages to help her find stuff on the Uni. website while asking questions about MS Teams. I’d forgotten how my role in group situations is always the “helper”. There to bring a bit of calm to panicking hysterical women.
“We can meet after class” I quipped – “just like last time”. We had previously met online at the intro. sessions a few days before…. Suzanne was an interesting person, she carried an immense sense of tragedy and didn’t have a clue about computers. Just like the kind of women who always seem to find special places in my English classes by booking lots of packages and then self-predicting that they will never pass exams. Then there were the others who kept asking me about times of lectures. I’m not sure what bit of “its all online – there are no lectures” that they couldn’t understand. Yes, I grappled with that as well, we just had to like it or lump it – we read, write and then submit things.
Like it or lump it – this was indeed University for older people, fun meant going for blood tests and Covid vaccines.
Like it or lump it was always the preferred idiom in my family growing up and it simply means “take it or leave it”. It is one of those phrases that you can hear everywhere, especially when there is little choice in a decision which has to be made. My mother used to say – “you are having potatoes for dinner like it or lump it… you don’t want them? Fine, you can lump it then”. (in other words, starve).
The one curious thing was how the tutors kept pleading with us to attend lectures:
“I know we are all busy but can we please try to get to lectures? You will struggle if you don’t…”
That was repeated many times and I remembered the countless times I waited for students who weren’t going to appear online for English classes. I don’t plead anymore, I’m kind of past that stage.
My mind drifted again and I remembered how middle aged teachers feel like parents sometimes but not with this crowd. Walking sticks, crutches and doctors appointments meant that I wasn’t about to find myself cruising through the streets in brightly coloured cars this time, this was post middle age – cruising up to the local Doctor’s surgery is as good as it gets. For some people here the best years of their lives had quickly become the last years of their lives. I was one of the youngest and as such expected to be the IT expert of the room.
I was no longer the English teacher around here, I was the baby.
Weekly Lesson Audio: A Visit to the New Library. Weekly Lessons: Previous weekly lesson | Weekly Lessons archive | Next weekly lesson