by My parents flew in to the UK two days ago, and I’ve just spoken to my dad, who said he was coping surprisingly well with the jet lag. He was standing outside the library in St Ives. It was 7:20am so the library hadn’t opened yet, but he could get a wi-fi connection there. (English teacher note: It’s now become really common for Brits to say “he was stood outside…” in that situation. “He was sitting” has become “he was sat“.) Mum was back in the flat, and the first thing he did was take the once-in-a-few-months opportunity to talk about her misery-inducing stress levels. Then he talked about the ridiculous army stuff my brother has been forced to do by ridiculous army people, almost on the eve of his wedding. He’s had to travel through the night to Newcastle, at the other end of the country, for some stupid course. He and his fiancée are understandably angry.
Yeah, the wedding. People will be absent who I might have expected to be present, such as my dad’s sister. And people will be present who certainly should be absent, like my Auckland-based aunt and uncle, who were last in contact with my brother in 1997. I don’t think they should be within a thousand miles of Plymouth, and more importantly, neither does my brother. OK, they’re family, but so what? As my friend from Auckland said in our Skype conversation yesterday, they’re going to see and be seen, and to have a holiday. Maybe I’m just being curmudgeonly (now that’s a good word). It all promises to be a very happy occasion, obviously, even if I’m sure I’ll be breathing a sigh of relief when it’s all over.
At the weekend I bought a nondescript shirt and tie to go with the suit I picked up in Cambridge, and what I’d like to think are a nice pair of brown shoes, made right here in Romania. I bought the shirt in H&M at the mall. I remember way back when (early 2000s, when I actually bought clothes) that H&M had stuff that I liked. Now everything there is horribly drab and normal, often emblazoned with slogans with (for some reason) th vwls mssng.
I fly out on Thursday evening. I have no idea at this stage whether I’ll be able to get to Paddington in time for the last train to Plymouth, or whether I’ll be forced to stay the night in Luton and go down the following day. On Monday night I fly back to Timișoara with my aunt and uncle (69 and 76) who live near Geraldine and who I’ve always got on well with. I’m really excited that they’re coming over. I bet they never thought they’d go to Romania.
Not much news from my end. Just 27½ hours of teaching (it’s funny that I’m saying just, but it’s below my recent average). The “expansion” to my Space Race board game appears to be a hit. On Friday I had a Skype lesson with the guy who has moved to London. After our lesson, which involved an article on emotional support animals, we spoke in Romanian. He told me I was making mistakes and need to be using words like cărora. I know I’m all at sea there, and avoidance is how I try to get by. (Cărora is one of the many forms of “which”. Looking at an online dictionary, there appear to be exactly ten “whiches”.) He also noticed I now have a bike, and suggested I join a cycle club. My bike would seem comically cheap for that kind of thing, and besides, I can’t see myself in Lycra. Yes, I know I need to find a way of meeting new people, but a cycle club isn’t it.
I broke 500 in Scrabble for just the second time last night, with the aid of just one bingo. I also made JInX for 73 and two 50-point plays. I was extremely fortunate to draw nine of the ten power tiles. My rating now sits at exactly 1200. My two real handicaps are time management (I struggled recently in a 12-minute game and haven’t yet dared go lower) and knowledge of obscure words. Someone suggested learning definitions, even if they’re bogus, just to tie the words to something. (The word “bogus” came up in our Skype lesson.)
