I think the man with the bowling-alley shoes was Paulo.
Either way, I like Paulo. He's from Italy, and has the habit of adding "e" to the end of as many words as possible in a sentence - very much as if he is mimicking a grossly exaggerated version of the accent you would expect him to have when speaking German. But no, it appears to just be the way he really does speak it. Which is nice and it makes me smile. I wish that my accent would be as lovable as his.
When Paulo was asked whose was the Mercedes outside (not that there was a Mercedes outside, but it re-enforced some grammatical point or other), he suggested that it was probably Peter's, and then looked at me. I interpreted this to be the start of our banter. I later referred to him in my sentences out of respect. I hope that we will be able to build up a healthy collaborative relationship in which we can mention one another each time we have to invent sentences, since otherwise inventing sentences is a desperately difficult thing to do. There is something unsatisfying about being given free rein to say almost anything and settling for something so banal as "The dog was happy because the weather was nice last Thursday", even if such a sentence is grammatically correct. It feels like your opportunity to say something to the world - for those few seconds, 15 or so people are hanging on your every word. You've got to make them count. Or so I supposed.
Another Italian guy made his words count by throwing in the occasional comment on the human condition - which I thought was clever, and I wish I had done that. "When people are depressed, they often don't know the reason" was one of his, I think. I said something untruthful about Paulo saying he'd buy me a Mercedes. Upon reflection, I will feel terrible now if he does as some sort of desperate effort to save his honour because he doesn't want the others in the class to think he's a liar. Paulo said a particular relative of his (I forget which) had died. The teacher told him that was wonderful. It was at that point I lost faith that she was really listening properly.
3 comments:
So, a man with brightly coloured shoes, and a slightly odd way of speaking has taken a bit of a shine to you.
Are you comfortable with that?
I hope this doesn't affect your rapport with him, the seeds of paranoia which I'm trying to sow in your mind that is.
I've been keeping an eye on Paulo's shoes for the past 3 days, and each time they were brown and normal. Of course this is not conclusive, but perhaps I erred in my previous conclusion.
And yes - quite comfortable. I am thankful that I'm not so prone to paranoia, as you are (said to) be.
Are you still walking among those in Northern Ireland, by the way, and will you be in September?
That was a nice little touch, making it look like people say I'm paranoid.
I'm not paranoid, I know that everyone says I am but I'm not!
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