Skip to main content

DO YOU HAVE A VALID POETIC LICENCE, SIR?

I' m delighted to report that an ex-colleague has been in touch regarding this blog. Delighted because it means at least one person outside my immediate family has actually read what I'm scribbling. She kindly pointed out a number of factual inaccuracies regarding A, star of the previous post, "From Russia With Gloves". Being lazy, rather than rewrite the story, I am happy to put the record straight as follows:

"...I would like to correct some of the stuff about that the girl who dyed her hair and went for the short skirts. She was actually from Azerbaijan and for me the funniest thing (oh no, not the funniest - there were so many moments) was when she came with her Dad - and looked all sweet and innocent - sitting in the chair with her knees together and her hands clasped - in an outfit that resembled Alice in Wonderland (hair band and all)... Dad sat there explaining about his daughter - I am not sure what he was really saying but obviously stuff about looking after her and protecting her in her innocence. Anyway the Dad left the country and within 2 days she had converted her wardrobe to all the voluptuous stuff, cut and dyed her hair in a Marilyn Monroe style, and started looking for a boyfriend.

"Also, do you remember that she never concentrated in class but spent the time pouting in her mirror touching up her make up? After several weeks or months of her becoming more and more extreme in her behaviour I then had reports of her wondering the streets and we became concerned that she was almost verging on prostitution, although she wouldn't have seen it that way... so I called her into my office and said to her : " 'A' I have heard reports of you meeting up with men, and I know that in fact you are not really looking for sex, but love, so you must be really careful. No, says 'A' - I like sex!"

So there you have it, truth battering fiction to a bloody pulp once again. Thanks for the input, JLH!

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

NO MORE A-CUSSIN'

In an effort to rid himself of the habit of using foul language at the slightest provocation , a Facebook chum recently asked for suggestions for harmless expressions he could use in front of his Gran and her bingo clique during moments of high stress, astonishment and/or extreme disappointment. I weighed in with, " Crikey! " and, " Great Scott! " Please feel free to add your suggestions, and help to make the world a tiny bit less like a trucker's stopover in Eindhoven .
12 comments
Read more

SCHOPENHAUER, BOHEMIANS AND FARCICAL TITS

" Schopenhauer, in his splendid essay called " On an Apparent Intention in the Fate of the Individual ," points out that when you reach an advanced age and look back over your lifetime, it can seem to have had a consistent order and plan, as though composed by some novelist. Events that, when they occurred, had seemed accidental and of little moment, turn out to have been indispensable factors in the composition of a consistent plot. " ( Quoted The Power of Myth , Joseph Campbell and Bill Moyers ) It is indeed a fascinating theory, though one not altogether backed up by my own floundering experience. When I look back on my life, I see less the consistent plot of a novel and more the outline of an episode of the BBC’s early-nineties soap opera fiasco, Eldorado . Most of my big life decisions have been made on a whim, guided by a desire to achieve the most pleasurable and pain-free result. Whilst my contemporaries were carefully choosing their higher education su...
15 comments
Read more

GREAT TEFL WASTERS I HAVE KNOWN - JASON

Continuing my occasional series on Great TEFL Wasters, allow me to cast my mind back to Jason, a typically chirpy Londoner I met whilst teaching in Italy. As with most London lads, he fancied himself as a bit of a player , with just fashionably long curly hair and a cocky patter that veritably flowed off the tongue. He was unique in that, during the whole time I knew him, I only ever heard him employ one adjective for a myriad of situations - the brilliantly versatile " unnatural ". When I once pointed out a rather fetching female to him in a nightclub, he whined, "Cor, strike me, that's unnatural, innit?" Another time, I invited him to stop in a bar for a coffee , to which he responded, "Coffee? Nah, I don't drink coffee, mate, it's unnatural, innit, coffee?" His profuse perspiration I'd noted on a not particularly hot day was explained away with, "Yeah, I've always sweated a lot, it's unnatural, innit?" And so it went...
4 comments
Read more