Tag Archives: Teaching

Dilemmas

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I seem to be picking up more teaching work.  It’s recommendations from people already having lessons.  I prefer the book writing corrections and the other correction work I do but such is life *sigh*.

So, the guy who works in the tobacconists below my flat is due to start on Thursday.  He wants to do the TOEFL test (and I’m really not sure he’s anywhere near that level but let’s see on Thursday).

I teach a colleague on Tuesday, after work.  She’s a sweet girl of about 20.  She is at a low level but she tries really hard and her pronunciation (once you correct her) is quite good, really.  I’m impressed.  According to another colleague, she really enjoys the lessons, which is good.

I go to teach her at her house.  She lives with her parents in what I first assumed was a very large detached house.  In fact, although it looks like that, it is two flats.  They have the ground floor and her sister (who is married with two kids) has the top floor.  Still, they make big flats.

Last night, as we were finishing the lesson, her sister arrived and sat down in the lounge (it’s an open plan ground floor) and was working on her laptop.  As I was packing up, my colleague’s nephew came in.  I said ‘Hello’ as I do.  He was a bit confused because it wasn’t Italian.  Then her sister asked me if I would teach her two kids and some other kid, English.

I said that I would think about it.  I would need to think of a price and what I could do.  I explained that, normally (in fact, always), I teach adults and I teach business English.  Teaching English to kids is a bit different.  There will be two six-year-old girls and the eleven-year-old boy.

Hmmm.  But, now, it leaves me with a bit of a dilemma.  What to do?  My colleague (MT) has obviously told her sister (family?) about the lessons and how much she is enjoying them and is probably saying I am a good teacher – hence the question.

But ……… I have never taught children.  Let’s be honest here, I don’t, generally, even like children!  Have you ever noticed blog posts detailing the joys of children on my blog?  No, I didn’t think so!  I would have to write brand new lessons – it would have to include games and stuff.  To keep them interested and occupied would be a task in it’s own right, let alone trying to actually teach them something of English!

On the other hand, it could be quite interesting.  I mean, teaching kids means more money, for certain.  I mean, for an hour I could charge more than for an adult student.  Also, they are not poor people.  Plus, I would end up with a load of lessons for kids.  How difficult could it all be?

Actually, it could be very, very difficult.  But I won’t actually know that until I try, will I?

So, what to do, what to do?

How old are you?; Inside a Lava Lamp; Cooking and DIY; Rufus; Oh, yes, and I win the lottery

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Miserable bloody weather that it was ….. and still is.

We get the day off on the 1st November. Some catholic thing about the day of the dead. To me, it’s a holiday. And, at a really stupid time of year! I mean, October/November? I ask you, why?

And so, from Saturday night, it rained. And rained. And rained. And rained. Well, you get the idea. It was grim with a capital ‘G’. After today it will be fine …….. until Saturday, when it’s forecast to …..piss down with rain!

Still, it meant, more or less, a weekend at home. We had been offered a trip to the Turin area and lunch at some restaurant. F didn’t really want to go. He doesn’t like the bad weather either, really. Anyway, the trip was to be Sunday when the forecast said it would rain all day (which it did, more or less), so F cancelled our ‘booking’. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Friday.

A (his Milanese friend who lives in London) called. We were going to go for for an aperitivo at Polpetta (see link at side). He was just waiting for her to call when she was on her way. He phones/texts me about 9 to say they are on their way and would pick me up (since I live 2 seconds from Polpetta). On our walk there it is decided that we shall skip the aperitivo and go straight for the Pizza at Liù, which is just across the road from Polpetta.

Whilst we are eating, I get a call from M. M is F’s colleague and the second one I ever met. She speaks English at about the same level as I did before I moved here – if not worse. She is sweet and loveable and we get on really well, in spite of the language which, after a few beers, is not a barrier. She drinks like a fish (or like a cow, as F would say). Before I answer, I say to F that it is strange, her calling me (they are almost best friends, after all). I answer.

“How old are you?”, she asks in a clearly drunken stupor. There is someone (I guess L, their other friend) in the background shouting stuff at her. I know what she means. “I’m very well, thanks”, I reply. She talks some more. I understand nothing. I pass the phone to F.

It seems they are at some bar and want us to join them. The husbands/partners are watching football. M rang me rather than F because she knows F too well and knew he might not answer the phone :-). C is there too as her husband, Ma, who is English, is with the men watching the football.

After our meal we walk up to the Atomic Bar. They are waiting outside. F had told me, on the way there, that when he and S got together, they used to go there a lot. There are a lot of English people that go there. I cannot beat the description on the link – ‘Like hanging out inside a lava lamp”! We have a couple of beers. Ma joins us after the football. The music is too loud and I cannot hear people well, who, in any event, are all talking in Italian. I stand no chance. Plus, I am tired. We leave sometime after midnight, just after it starts to liven up a bit. Rather than English, I would say it is frequented by a lot of students. I am old enough to be their grandfather – not that I care but the loud music and stuff, although good, doesn’t fit well with how tired I am. I am glad to go.

Saturday.

The man came to put the cupboards up in the bathroom. These were the cupboards I bought from IKEA a few weeks ago. I assembled the cupboards but wasn’t quite confident to put them up – although, before I had assembled them I was so confident in my head. I mean, how difficult could it possibly be?

Well, apparently, quite difficult. As I watched him heave them up and there being a lot of cazzoing, I thought that, actually, I had been somewhat crazy to even imagine that I could have done this myself …… on my own! And he even had all the right tools! He looked at my light but couldn’t fix it (so I called the electrician – who may be there on Friday) and looked at my shutters in the bedroom (one of them wouldn’t close) and did fix that, sort of. But the important thing is that it now closes and (almost) opens.

Then, as I had arranged with F, we went to buy my new cooker. I had gone two weeks previously and found the one that I quite liked. It’s all gas, which is my preference but wider and slightly deeper than the current one but, more importantly than anything else, does not just have High, Low and Off but rather gas marks! I can’t wait. I shall be able to cook things properly with much less guessing. Anyway, Saturday was the last day for the offer for free delivery and free fitting which, with gas, is a must. Not really a DIY thing at all, especially for me! Also, the nice thing was that they will deliver on Friday! So I can plan a meal.

Saturday night we went to A’s place. F2 was there too although they are still not really ‘together’. F talks so much. Afterwards I said that he didn’t have to do so much talking. He replied that if he didn’t there would be nobody talking. I think this is not true but I think it is also when he is a bit nervous. The food was great, as usual. It started to rain just after we got there. And almost hasn’t stopped since. We left quite early as I was still tired.

Sunday.

The clocks went back. It means an extra hour in bed. Well, it would mean an extra hour – unless you have small children or dogs. I have dogs. The dogs didn’t put their clocks back. Plus Rufus is ill. I know this will mean a diarrhea mess in the kitchen, even if we do get up quite early. He can’t help it, of course. It does mean exactly that. We take them for a walk after I clean up. It is only spitting but, even so, we bypass the dog walking area – it is too wet and muddy for that. F didn’t have a good night. I did – it just wasn’t long enough.

He wants me to do Crumble again. This time I will do apple and blackberry. He also wants Shepherd’s Pie (as he calls it for, really, it should be Cottage Pie). He also wants carrots the way that A did them last night. I also want to try the Roasted Tomato Soup that I made a few weeks ago.

He goes home and I go shopping. They don’t have fresh Thyme, so I get dried. I forget to get bread (which I realise when it is too late). I get everything else I need. The supermarket (Carrefour in Via Modena) closes just as I am getting the last couple of things – which explains why it is so quiet in there – but this makes it a million times better than going to Esselunga, where I would have had to fight to get round and then queue up for about half an hour at the tills. I even manage to get a bus as I get to Via Castel Morrone! I am very happy.

I start the cooking when I get back. I think the tomato soup will be too much, so one tomato is omitted. I put too much black pepper on them (as I find out later). The Apple And Blackberry Crumble is both easy and will be fine, even if I don’t know how to get cooking apples, so it may be a little too sweet. The Shepherd’s Pie will be huge. I have just the perfect glass dish for it.

I am doing the Blackberry and Apple Crumble, the soup has been done and the Shepherd’s Pie is in the oven when there is the sound of a small explosion and steam comes from the cooker! Shit, I think to myself. I open the door of the oven. There is a lot of steam and hissing and the flames of the gas fire are yellow and bigger than they should be. It takes me a moment or two to realise that the glass was obviously not oven-proof as I had thought and has split. Shepherd’s Pie filling is all over the bottom of the oven. I turn the oven off and carefully lift out the remains of the glass dish. I put it on the side and the gravy starts dribbling nicely down the ‘curtain’ and onto the floor. Hmmmph! I think about it for a moment. Luckily, the glass has cracked (and come off) only on two of the corners. I can rescue most of it. Of course, to be certain I don’t have any glass in the part I am going to rescue, I need to leave quite a lot behind. However, there will be enough for the two of us for a couple of days, even now. I try to clean a very hot oven. Not very well but enough (I hope) to allow me to continue. Ah, well, the cooker goes away on Friday so who cares?

I have moved my computer into the kitchen, on to the kitchen table, since I need the internet to see the recipes. It works much better than me having to traipse from the kitchen to the lounge and trying to remember the next couple of steps. Also, I can listen to music or watch a film or something whilst I am cooking.

The plan is to eat early. I feel like I have been on my feet all day by the time F arrives at about 7.30. We sit down at 8. The meal is great apart from, slightly too much black pepper in the soup. The Shepherd’s Pie is the best I have ever done. The Apple and Blackberry Crumble is fantastic with whipped cream. I am very pleased. So is F. I decide I’m going to try Swiss Steak (a winter favourite of mine) and hope that he will eat the meat. I think I may try it at the weekend with my new cooker.

We play cards a bit, watch some TV, I take the dogs out (in the rain – did I mention that it rained almost ALL weekend?) and we go to sleep.

Monday (we are on holiday).

I am woken by, what seems to be, Rufus’ last breath. He has, what can best be described as, a very bad cold. It seems he is struggling to breathe. It wakes me up. It is 2.30 a.m. The long drawing of breath so loud as to wake me in the first place. I get up to check he’s OK. He’s OK but this is the second time in the last few days that this has happened. I worry that it’s not just a cold. I think that, just now, there seems to be something wrong nearly every week. He is very, very thin at his back end. When you rub his back you can feel every bone as if they are speed humps in the road. I decide to get up and have a drink. I go to the kitchen where, now, the computer is. I clean up the mess from Rufus. I have a drink and look at the computer. I chat with someone who is online through Facebook. They tell me to go back to bed. I do. I awake again just before 9. It is still raining.

F gets up to take the dogs out on a short walk. Short because it is still raining. Meanwhile, I clean up the mess from Rufus. I wonder when this will end. F has suggested that we won’t go to Austria for Christmas and New Year whilst Rufus is like this. I mean, whilst Rufus is alive. F says that he hopes he isn’t here when Rufus dies. I don’t tell him that, in all probability, it will be my choice and that I will take him to the vet, so he won’t see it anyway. I know that he won’t come. That’s OK. I worry that, just a little, I feel that I almost ‘want’ Rufus to go or get so bad that he has to go – just so I can go to Austria for Christmas. It makes me feel very guilty. But then, last night (well at 2.30 a.m.), I think that, anyway, it won’t be long.

However, I remember feeling just as guilty before, with Ben, while we were waiting for him to go before we came to Italy. That made me feel guilty too. In the end, I did it at the right time and I know I will do the same again. I won’t do it just to be away for Christmas – it doesn’t stop me feeling guilty though.

F goes home after breakfast. I sit in the kitchen, in front of the computer for a bit. Then I decide to clean the oven. It makes me feel much better. At least, when they take it away on Friday, it won’t be so bad and they won’t think me such a scumbag for having a dirty cooker! Then I sit at the computer a bit as some washing is doing. Then I decide to put up the new coat hanger I bought at the same time as I bought the table and which has been sitting in the hallway …… waiting for me to put it up. I drill the holes to the right length, put in the rawl plugs and put it up. I am very pleased although I know that I will be unable to open the front door fully. I think that, maybe, this will be a problem for the delivery of the cooker but then, I think, I can always take the coat hanger off, if I really need to. I write some posts but don’t finish them. As usual.

F comes over and we have a second round of soup, Shepherd’s Pie and Apple and Blackberry Crumble. then we watch Cinema Paradisio. I have seen it for about 15 years. The last time was when V & I were doing Italian at night school and the teacher lent it to us. I knew I loved it but couldn’t remember it at all. It’s lovely but we have to have a break at 10.30 so I can take the dogs out. We get to bed just before midnight. I will be tired tomorrow, I think. F says that I need to sleep. It’s true. I have two English lessons after work as well tomorrow night. I sleep.

Tuesday.

The clocks going back have made no difference to the fact that is is pitch black when the alarm goes off at 6.40! Or maybe it’s because it’s still bloody raining! OK, so not raining so much, but, obviously, it’s also dark because of the black clouds. Rufus has not made a mess. Well, that’s one good thing. I end up being late for work. I forgot to tell you that I did win the Superenalotto….everntually. I got three numbers on Saturday night. That’s €16.24. This morning, I go to the tobacconist below my house and play again (even if I promised that I would stop when the jackpot was won, which it was on Saturday – exactly when I won €16.24 instead of €177,000,000). Mau is there as usual. He’s promising to ring me about English lessons too. He needs it for the TOEFL test.

I get to work. I must leave home earlier than I do at the moment. I do the lesson log for M-T, my student for tonight. I am annoyed at myself for not having done it last week but it doesn’t really matter.

As I write this, it is still raining. It is supposed to stop in a couple of hours. I will not finish teaching before 8.30 tonight. Maybe, I think, I will take the whole day off on Friday, when the cooker is delivered. Why not?

I am tired.

None of this makes sense

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It isn’t that early.  Maybe 9.30 a.m.  I am walking, with Rufus and Dino, through the offices.  On the left are the white, plasterboard walls, behind which are offices and meeting rooms.  On the right is the typical open plan office, separated from me by a half-height wall so that I can see the desks – although not so many people are in.

I get to the door at the end and open it and go through.  The room is large, wood-panelled with a brownish, nondescript carpet.  There are some desks and a leather sofa.  I let the dogs off the lead.  I notice a guy lying on the floor.  Probably in his 30s, casually dressed.

“Oh!”, I exclaim, “sorry about the dogs”.

“It’s OK”, he replies.

I’m here to do a job.  It’s not a permanent job but I’m being well paid.  I will be assisting the Managing Director.  This guy.  Who is he?  We sit and chat for a bit and then I get on with my job.  I decide that I need to get something from the car.  I have an English lesson to finish and the stuff is down there.  I leave the dogs with the guy.  He is lying on the floor, reading a book.

When I reach the street, the city is busy.  It is London, after all.  I find my car.  It’s an Audi estate or maybe a Ford.  I get in and find the papers I need.  I realise that, maybe, I should take Dino-clone upstairs as well.  For some reason I should never let Dino-clone and Dino meet.  After all he is Dino’s son (I had been watching Terminator Salvation previously).  But, stuff it.  What harm can there possibly be?

I take him up.

As I get back into the office the guy is where I left him.  Next to him one of the dogs has been sick.  And there is dog shit all over the floor.  I am amazed that he can just lie there and do nothing about it.  I start the clean up.  I clean most of the sick and then start on the shit.

The MD arrives through the door.  He, too, seems not to notice the dog shit everywhere.  He goes to his office which is in the corner of the room and up a couple of stairs.  There are two entrances.  Both doors are open.

I break off from my cleaning up of the dog shit and go to my computer which is in his room.

“Ah, good”, he says, “I need you to help me with this computer package in 10 minutes or so”.

“OK”, I reply, “no problem.  Whenever you want”.  But thinking to myself that, surely, he realises I have to clean up the dog shit first.  I step outside his office into the big room and continue.

A visitor comes.  A big guy, with a moustache, wearing a camel coat.  The MD invites him into his office.  The doors are not closed yet I can’t hear their conversation, which I am slightly puzzled about.  Me and the guy from the floor sit at a table in the ante-room.  He asks me why I’m here.

“I live in Milan, Italy”

“Oh”, he says, asking “where’s that?”

I think that he’s just an idiot.  I start to explain about the dogs.  I have to go back every weekend.  I take the dogs with me.

There’s a puzzling thing.  It’s OK taking them back to Milan but how did I get them here in the first place?  I think: Will I have to leave them here?  Will they have to stay in quarantine for six months?  No, that can’t be right.  No, I’m certain I can get them back to Milan.

Then I cannot understand how I got them here.  It just doesn’t make sense.

This ‘working it out’ wakes me up.  It’s 1.07 a.m.

I wonder why I’m having such strange dreams right now.  That doesn’t make sense either.

I am a sex god!

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Whoops! Of course, although the title may have got your attention (and, as a result I’ll probably get even more spam comments), I forgot to add a ‘y’!

Yes, the title should have read I am a sexy god ……… apparently. :-)

People have said, in the past, that I have a nice voice. I have been called upon to read things in groups, etc., as a result. When I did my certificate for TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language), the group asked me to read a poem out loud to the class. Well, to be precise, N asked me to read it but the others agreed. When we were at the Hay Festival, one time, I was asked to read the English translation for an Italian guy.

As an aside, that leads to a story that I used to give to my English classes about pronunciation. Italians find it so hard to pronounce our words correctly. In Italian, apart from the stress (which I find very difficult) and the single and double consonants (where I hear no difference but the Italians do), you pronounce the word according to the way it is spelt. In English, of course, this is not so. Take bough, cough, tough and hiccough as examples. And so, having never seen the text of this passage before, I came across a word, in English that I had never seen before. The word was gelid. If I had thought only in Italian, I would have pronounced it like jellied but I was in the UK and for me it could also have been with a hard ‘g’ as in gelding.

Since I had no way of being able to tell how to pronounce it and no time to look it up, I went with the hard g. When I came back to the audience, Flo, the wife of the man who started the festival, whispered to me how well I had read and said how glad she was that she wasn’t reading it because she would never have known how to pronounce the word and how on earth did I know? I explained that I didn’t. Looking it up afterwards, since I was already teaching English, I found, of course, that it should have been pronounced as jellied – but how does one really know in English?

But, back to the headline story.

I had to ring the garage about my car. The guy only speaks about two words of English and so I had to speak in my (bad) Italian. After I had finished, S, my colleague was laughing. She explained it like this:

‘I’m sorry that I laugh but it’s so strange to hear you speak in Italian. You don’t sound the same. When you speak English you speak very well (sic) – your voice is ….. umm …. sexy. When you speak in Italian it is different and it seems like a child’.

This is not the first time. Apparently I have a sexy voice :-)

OK, but why ‘god’ you may well ask?

Last night we went round to F’s place. I know he has lots of things to do so it is much easier for him and no real bother for me. Anyway, the dogs get their walk and so it’s fine.

It’s now a little chilly but because he had been working round the flat he was warm. Still, as he was closing the windows, the shoes which were out on the balcony, airing, needed to be moved.

‘Is it going to rain?’, he asked.

No, it was not, I assured him.

Yesterday, I was asked by two people in the office about the weather tonight and the weather at the weekend. I feel like a god! Actually, I use a site called Meteo Blue. It is a forecast so not always perfect, particularly more than a day or two in advance and it does change every few hours (if the forecast changes) but it is the most reliable weather forecast site I have found. You select your country and start typing your city – it will list all the possible options. I cannot say what it is like for other countries but for Italy it is pretty damned good.

And so, I am a god (apparently) who has a sexy voice. Not quite the same as being a sex god but you get my drift, yes? (as they say in Italy).

Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinalyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

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Hmm. Maybe it wasn’t what I thought. Or, at least, it wasn’t the whole thing.

You may remember this. Well, I have, in the last few moments, finally finished it. It’s not because I was being slow or particularly lazy (although without a deadline, as I have mentioned in the past, I am far to much ‘I’ll do it later’ which, invariably, leads to a massive rush in the last few days, hours, seconds, whatever). No, with this job I had some real difficulties and it has taken me far too long.

However, as with all things, you learn stuff on the way. And these are some of the things I have learnt:

1. It was a really good idea to buy the laptop – especially as it was one with windows rather than an apple. It has almost ‘saved my life’!
2. Word on an Apple Mac IS NOT the same as Microsoft Word. They are similar but not the same. Plus, if the version is in Italian it is too difficult.
3. It was very useful having a USB key – this has also ‘saved my life’.
4. It is important, when doing this kind of work, that the computers at home and at work are compatible – at least to a major degree.
5. Other people are not so bright either – they don’t know how to use functions in, for example, Word in exactly the same way that you don’t! Worse still, just like you, they use it and then stop using it randomly (the special function, that is). This is not really a problem until someone who doesn’t know where and when and how you used it comes to look at it.
6. Don’t have anything to do with computers or new technology!

Of course, it’s finished now. The final two things (one of which involved the special function) were done, this morning, at work. Actually, it’s not finished. In the physical book are loads of markers where questions have to be asked. The page numbers appear to be different (which will be a BIG problem as page numbers are referenced), one or two spelling, one or two bits of English (although checking the English is not really part of the job, as such). Still, I’ve phoned him and I go and see him tonight – when the job WILL be finished – except if he asks me to go through it again for the English!

But you have to know that on Sunday, I was there for hours, only to find that everything got mucked up (thanks Bill Gates for your product) and so I gave up about 9.30 p.m.

Then last night, I was rather pleased to find it wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been and I finished it about 8.30 p.m. to do the final two bits this morning.

Now I have to decide how much to charge, for it was a real pain in the ‘you know where’.

And, having finished it, I feel a great weight lifted off me. Maybe it wasn’t that customer after all – at least, not entirely!

Lesson One – Remembering How To Teach!

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I am almost prepared. I should have done more, of course. I have copies of things and, probably, much more material than I really need. But, as always, I worry.

It’s my first English lesson for nearly 4 years. To be honest, I’ve almost forgotten all the names of the different tenses of verbs. But I’ll cope, I’m sure. After all, we don’t use the names when we learn English, as kids – and the names of them aren’t really important.

It will be at my house. This suits me fine. No trudging halfway across town or anything.

Anyway, this is the first lesson. We need to try out some things. I do the error correction stuff first. This one is a bit ‘finger in the air’ stuff since it’s the first lesson but I do remember stuff from our chat the other day. Then it’s to my favourite bit – the pronunciation. It’s a bit like a game. I go through the pronunciation of the symbols we shall use throughout the lessons. Then the words she’s supposed to fit with them. Then she fits the words to the symbols. We go through and discuss any errors. It is, of course, better in a class.

Then there are various other exercises and I have some listening stuff for her to do. Well, one listening exercise, anyway. We shall do it together, this time. It’s the first time, after all.

I am a little nervous but not so much considering I have been away from it for a bit. In a way, I shall quite enjoy it.

An English Teaching job that wasn’t

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I had an uneasy feeling about this. I very nearly texted F with all the details – the address, the phone number, the name, etc.

It had been a strange phone call. All in Italian and, unfortunately it didn’t really make sense.

“I saw your advertisement in Easy Milano”.

“Do you have a computer?”, he asked. I replied that I did. “Because I need to have this program modified”, he continued. “Do you have a key?”, he asked. Hmmmm.

He sounded like he was mid-forties or fifties. I said that I didn’t really understand what he wanted but that I would come and see him and we could discuss it – just like we could discuss the price (which he wasn’t happy about). I thought that this was a man who wanted to have some computer program which either taught him English or was a test of English, altered to suit him or make it easier or something. It was probable that it couldn’t be done but, anyway, the price would be at least double.

In the morning, I thought that, perhaps, I should ‘forget’ my laptop and then phone to say I had forgotten it; or just not go; or make some other excuse. I felt that it would be a waste of time. He was, quite probably, a beginner. And he didn’t want to pay for anything.

Of course, my judgement was clouded because, although I didn’t know the particular area where he lived (I looked at it on Google Maps whilst he was on the telephone), it was very close to a place that FfI and I went to see a flat, when I was looking for flats, last year. This place we went to was an out-of-town council estate. I say estate and, of course, since this is Italy, there were no houses, just huge sets of blocks of flats. The flat we went to looked like it had been used as a drug den. I can’t tell you how happy we were to be leaving and getting back to the comfort and safety of Milan proper.

>So, this place was another couple of blocks down.

I had a vision of what would happen. He would certainly be paying for this.

I parked the car next to a car that looked as if it had been vandalised – the front windscreen smashed, the bonnet and front end looking like someone had rammed it. The small car park looks like the sort of thing that was built on the same sort of estates in the 50s and 60s, when no one who lived in ‘those sort of places’ could possibly have afforded a car! The car park had weeds growing – this is how it would look a few months after the whole of the human population had been wiped out – like you see in those sci-fi films.

I got out. I checked with a guy who had just parked his car, that I was on the right street. Yes, I was. The huge, ugly block of flats loomed ahead. Must be several hundred, maybe a thousand, flats in this complex.

Should I take my computer (in a briefcase) or not? Would I be mugged? No, I was being really stupid, I decided, even if there were signs everywhere I looked – one can read too much into things.

I go to the entrance to the block. the block is actually several blocks, all joined together, round a large garden with flowers and trees. I find his button. He answers. I am to go to the F Stairs. The first one on the left is A. As it is, F is nearly the furthest away. I pass all the flats, some with amazing displays of flowers, others with what looks like junk on their balconies. Overall, though, it wasn’t like that other block I had been to before, just up the road. This was not a crack-dealing estate and may, even, be privately owned flats.

Still, I wasn’t entirely happy about it all.

I got to entrance F. I had to buzz again. He let me in. I was to go to the top floor. The seventh.

As I entered the building, the usual smells of flats hit me. This, like any other block, smelled of the latest food cooked. I idly wondered if, in reality, the smell was so different from the ones in my block? It seemed so but maybe that was only my preconception, given where I was and what I was doing. It wasn’t pleasant, in any event.

I thought about the first flat I had ever lived in. When V and I got together. We lived in his council supplied one, near the heart of Birmingham. Just down the road from the red-light district. I remember getting in the lift sometimes (we lived on the 10th floor). It was like this, except that this lift (the one I was in now) didn’t smell of piss like the one in Birmingham often did. Still, it brought back some memories.

When I reached the top floor there were four possible doors to his flat. As I stepped out one was opened. I guess this would be the one, I thought.

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In front of me, holding the door open, was an elderly man. I don’t mean retired or anything. I mean O.L.D. He was, probably, in his eighties! He was hunched over and he shuffled, rather than walked.

My first thought was to laugh! This guy wanted to learn English? Why the hell would he need or want to do that?

It’s warm in, what looks like, a one room flat with a single window. There is a door. It could be a bedroom……. or, maybe, just a cupboard. It is very hot. I ask if it’s OK to take my coat off.

I ask him if he speaks any English. He does. It’s not brilliant and he doesn’t have that much vocabulary but it’s passable. He asks where I come from and I explain, as I do, that he won’t know where it is before telling him and then explaining where it is. He tells me he’s been to Bristol. Not that far away after all.

We sit at his table. In front, at the back and slightly to the left is a covered-up typewriter. To the right is a single desk lamp. Between them is a CD and a usb key. In front of those two things, closest to him, is a book; a red-bound book that looks as if it has been well used.

He points to the book. I suppose this is an ‘English’ exercise book although I have never seen one like it.

He opens the book and starts explaining that, as he points them out, these corrections are to be made to the text (or the layout or the spelling or whatever). When all the corrections are done, he would like it transferred to the usb key (to send to the publisher, probably).

As we go through the changes he requires, I ask questions. I suggest that I’ll do it at home – it will be easier. He is doubtful but, as we go through the changes he wants, he becomes more comfortable. I obviously know what needs to be done and can understand his notations and symbols and writing that he has done.

I make sure that I can read the CD and that it is a program I can change. I ask him how long it took him to write (for it is a HEAVY book – not a nice novel for bed-time reading). 38 years is the answer!

I assume he must be some sort of retired professor but it turns out he was a photographer. It took him 38 years because he needed to see and interview some of the people who are quoted in his book. There were some from China, Japan, Africa, etc. It took time for it all to be arranged. He wrote it in Italian and had it translated. The problem is that the translators are not from Milan and, for these few corrections, he wanted someone closer.

We have, in some sort of way, ‘got on’. We were both wary at the start, both unsure – me of his requirement, he of my competence. As he shuffled behind me as I was leaving, we were smiling; he reminded me of many of the people I have met at the festivals.

“Well”, as I pointed out to him, “this is much more interesting than just English teaching”, without adding that ‘and, I can do it at home!’

Back to the grind; a little lopsided

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Well, finally, I’m on my way! Yessssssss!

I met my first student yesterday. Very sweet and, I think, it will be a lot of fun. Then, I was telling FfI and it might be that she can put some work my way, which would be very cool.

And I did some things I have been putting off; tidying stuff in the house and sorting some things, so I feel like I really did something this weekend, which also makes me happy.

Now, tonight, I must start digging out the stuff I need to teach English and start doing the photocopies and stuff.

Saturday night, we went to a ‘new’ restaurant – Piero & Pia. We sat outside as it was warm but with a nice breeze. I had goose liver pate with some warm, sweet bread, followed by rack of lamb (and for once, here, in Italy, it was cooked right – pink) with roasted potatoes and then a thick, creamy rice pudding with a sprinkling of sultanas and a light dusting of coconut for sweet. It was all delicious. With wine and water it was something around €50 per head. Not outrageous but not cheap either!

The only problem was at the end. F insisted on paying for it all. It’s just that I really can’t afford it right now but I’m annoyed at myself for being in a position where we can’t go ‘dutch’. This is one of the reasons for going back to English teaching. It will just give me the spending money I need and, hopefully, will just give me that bit extra for our holidays. I know F can afford it (the occasional meal, etc.) but that’s not really the point.

Ah, well – soon it will be different :-)

Gotta be more positive!

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I guess that those of you that read my blog will know that I am full of doubt; always worried about something; always concerned if I have done/am doing the right thing.

Except that, I guess, to my friends and colleagues (Pietro?) I probably appear to be confident and self-assured – always seeming to be doing the right thing.

Well, the fact that, should you scratch the surface, I have all this uncertainty is not entirely true. There’s the times when, both externally and internally, I feel good – confident, strong, sure. These times are with F.  It doesn’t seem to matter what shit I think I’m going through – within moments of being with him; being in his presence, the ‘problems’ just seem to disappear. It’s as if when he is there, everything that concerns me just falls away from me.

Also I received a rather good email today. And I chatted with my first, potential, student (well, the first this time round) and we’re meeting next week.

Still, I wonder if it’s wrong that, when he’s around, worries and problems don’t seem to have importance? At least, this week I have been doing some things to fix some of them and this continued today, so that’s more positive anyway.

Ice treading

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We don’t talk about it.

And here, my reader, you may be wondering what it is that we aren’t talking about. Well there’s nothing specific – it’s just anything that is difficult. We don’t discuss. And it’s not one-sided either. We skirt around a subject and only talk about it when it is absolutely necessary. And, when we talk about it we use the minimum of words and don’t discuss the implications or anything deeper than a conversation with an acquaintance.

I don’t know why. Or why we both do this.

An example. One thing I must do is earn more money. For various reasons my income, so far this year, has been less than I had planned for or expenses have been greater than expected or completely unexpected or unplanned. As a result I need more.

Therefore I must get more work – part-time work. This means teaching English again. In one way I don’t really mind. I had been worried that my English was disappearing; changing into the Ital-English spoken here. Me saying ‘We are in three’ instead of ‘There are three of us’ as an example; struggling to find the correct word to describe something and knowing that I know the word – I just haven’t used it nor heard it for so long. If I teach English my English will return to its proper level quickly because I will be reading more newspapers, books, etc. This is a very good thing.

It will also give me the money I need. So all good. Well, yes but…..

It will change some things. I will have to work evenings and weekends – which I don’t mind in itself although I had tried to keep them free – free for relaxing, etc. This, in turn, will curb the amount of time we are together. It will mean that going to bed at near midnight most evenings will not be acceptable. It will mean a lot of work outside the time I am teaching. It will mean my life will be mostly about work

For the last two or three nights I have promised myself that I will explain this to F as it will mean so much change for us. I know he won’t have a problem with it but it is almost as if, by saying it, I am making such a big deal of it and making it into a huge problem since we don’t really talk of these things.

And so, I have yet to tell him anything. It bugs me because it seems, by holding out, when I do tell him it will be such a huge thing, even if, although it is important, it’s only a change in the time we are together and nothing more.

I steel myself, before we see each other at night, that I WILL mention it tonight. I will force myself to say something. Instead, I don’t. Either I forget because, on seeing him, being with him is the only thing or I remember but think that ‘now is not the right time…..later’.

It is stupid and irresponsible and makes no sense at all – even to me!

This is just an example. There are many more – even some from his side!

It’s almost as if we feel like we are treading on thin ice, even after quite a time together and even if it is not or, rather, should not be. And we are, after all, grown up enough to know how to react. Maybe it’s just that we don’t know how the other will react?