Gosh, it's really dark at half past six in the evening now, isn't it?!
I have three thoughts in mind, none of which are quite big enough in themselves to merit a separate post.
1/
Re the last post - I've changed my mind about democracy and the BBC. I don't think people like Nick Griffin should be allowed to speak on Question Time. The whole thing descended into a shouting match and was no use whatsoever in terms of scrutiny. There were a lot of angry voices in the crowd from a variety of ethnic and religious backgrounds all wanting to know - and quite justifiably so - how an educated man from their country could possibly logically come out with the kind of statements that Nick Griffin has about race, the Holocaust, Islam.
But that's not what Question Time is for. There's something incredibly distasteful about an angry mob baying for blood, even crazy, racist, extremist blood. That's not what democratic scrutiny is all about. It's as though we need someone to shout at, and finally we've found the socially-acceptable solution.
Apart from anything else, it was a gift to the other participants on the panel (Jack Straw, Conservative MP Baroness Warsi, Lib Dem Chris Huhne and Bonnie Greer) who couldn't help but sound like the voice of reason in comparison with their extreme-right colleague.
In fact, all but the final question were BNP-centred, meaning the other panellists effectively escaped scrutiny. Nice work, BBC.
This is why Question Time is not the best platform for this type of speaker.
2/ (since when did I become a political blogger anyway?!)
A couple of long-awaited payments finally came through this week and my thoughts turned to the fripperies of the high street (I'm not a fashion blogger either).
Autumn is the only time I like to buy clothes. Reflecting the falling leaves, the shops are full of russets, chestnuts, ochre - all colours that I can actually carry off with relative lack of failure (the only Real Colours I can wear are red and green, and I refuse to resemble a poinsettia).
It's not only the warm autumnal colours that make me want to buy; textures are great in autumn: chunky knits, velvety cords, cosy woolly tights and leggings (yes I do translate fashion blurb). All the things that make you want to curl up on the sofa in front of the fire (failing that, the television) with a big cup of tea and some Marmite on toast.
It's all so much more civilised than summer (acid colours, not enough coverage, too many wispy synthetics), winter (no desire to buy next season's spring clothes when the outside world is full of sludge and slurry) and spring (too early to even be thinking about a bikini wax).
So yes, receiving two relatively weighty payments mid-autumn is dangerous for me. Think saving for taxes, saving for taxes.
3/
Panic! What was the third thing?!
Oh yes.
I don't care if I never have a boyfriend again, if I never pass that accreditation test, if I never finish my touchingly humorous yet handsomely-crafted novel about the life of a brave, intelligent young language professional swimming against the tide during two years living and working in post-accession Poland...
What I want is to be able to play Whatever I Like on the piano, like this guy:
(or like Jamie Cullum, who was also on Friday Night with Jonathan Ross).
I have started practising. I'm working from a full photocopy (generously provided by a family friend, from my parents' church choir, who is well-versed in the techniques of trad jazz) of Lee Sims Piano Method (Jazz) - A Complete instructor in the new American style of "orchestral effect" piano playing and modern harmony
As far as I can tell, this involves turning everything into ragtime.
Great, I can manage that.
Currently, I'm having enormous fun adding inappropriate stride bass arrangements to just about anything really.
My favourites so far are Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen, not GF Handel) and I Need A Hero.
Any other suggestions are welcome (please send chords).
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Freedom of speech
Interesting times. Tonight, Nick Griffin of the BNP is a guest on BBC1's Question Time, and - since I have the lovely lovely BBC at home - I'm staying up to watch. I'm getting out the beer and popcorn.
OK, no popcorn.
Now, for non-Brits, the BNP tends to swing to the right somewhat, with rather less-than-friendly policies on immigrants and an inconvenient habit of denying the Holocaust.
This is all very exciting. There have been protests all day. They even broke into the BBC. There are previews on the BBC news as we speak and people are even booing him on. Excellent.
Protesters have complained that it's equivalent to putting Hitler on TV.
Now hang on a minute.
The very fact that people are breaking into the BBC, the fact that there is so much protest, so much news coverage, surely shows that this is absolutely nothing of the sort. We are well aware of what the BNP represents, we have a vague idea of Nick Griffin's policies (well... at least regarding immigration) and we are treating him with the necessary caution. Yes, Britain has been racked by recession, but that doesn't mean we're looking for an extremist to beat us into an economically-successful future. We're letting a known extremist speak on the television, but we know what we're letting ourselves in for. People, the press, public figures are talking about it: the debate is open, and a jolly good thing too.
Let's not forget that we are talking about an elected party: the BNP - however wrong or right this may be - do have seats in the European Parliament (*shudders*). As such, we need a platform to interrogate them. Question Time is not for the faint-hearted: excerpts are flashing past on the news at the moment and let me tell you it's no picnic. He's not in an enviable position.
And quite right too: politicians should be held to account. I'm curious: I want to know whether what I've heard about the BNP is correct - and what their other policies might be.
So I'm glad this guy is going to be on the TV tonight. I know it's much easier to trot out that tired old Voltaire line than actually to look at free speech and decide where to draw a line before the truly unacceptable but nonetheless I stick by it.
Apart from anything else, it should be good entertainment value.
As an aside, the one thing that concerns me is that ordinary middle-class, Daily Express-reading Brits like my parents may listen and say - you know what, his other policies are actually pretty reasonable...
... and that I think is where the danger lies.
OK, no popcorn.
Now, for non-Brits, the BNP tends to swing to the right somewhat, with rather less-than-friendly policies on immigrants and an inconvenient habit of denying the Holocaust.
This is all very exciting. There have been protests all day. They even broke into the BBC. There are previews on the BBC news as we speak and people are even booing him on. Excellent.
Protesters have complained that it's equivalent to putting Hitler on TV.
Now hang on a minute.
The very fact that people are breaking into the BBC, the fact that there is so much protest, so much news coverage, surely shows that this is absolutely nothing of the sort. We are well aware of what the BNP represents, we have a vague idea of Nick Griffin's policies (well... at least regarding immigration) and we are treating him with the necessary caution. Yes, Britain has been racked by recession, but that doesn't mean we're looking for an extremist to beat us into an economically-successful future. We're letting a known extremist speak on the television, but we know what we're letting ourselves in for. People, the press, public figures are talking about it: the debate is open, and a jolly good thing too.
Let's not forget that we are talking about an elected party: the BNP - however wrong or right this may be - do have seats in the European Parliament (*shudders*). As such, we need a platform to interrogate them. Question Time is not for the faint-hearted: excerpts are flashing past on the news at the moment and let me tell you it's no picnic. He's not in an enviable position.
And quite right too: politicians should be held to account. I'm curious: I want to know whether what I've heard about the BNP is correct - and what their other policies might be.
So I'm glad this guy is going to be on the TV tonight. I know it's much easier to trot out that tired old Voltaire line than actually to look at free speech and decide where to draw a line before the truly unacceptable but nonetheless I stick by it.
Apart from anything else, it should be good entertainment value.
As an aside, the one thing that concerns me is that ordinary middle-class, Daily Express-reading Brits like my parents may listen and say - you know what, his other policies are actually pretty reasonable...
... and that I think is where the danger lies.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
New pizzeria in the neighbourhood
Following huge losses in the recent European Parliament elections, many major players in the European left-wing have had to find new employment:
'Lekka Pizza Rewolucyjna'... no wonder I only got a 3+ in my Polish history exam!
A little bad punning my friend?
... 'Dla CHE go nie?!'
'Lekka Pizza Rewolucyjna'... no wonder I only got a 3+ in my Polish history exam!
A little bad punning my friend?... 'Dla CHE go nie?!'
Monday, 8 June 2009
Regrets
Or 'Why I wish I had voted in the European Parliamentary Elections'.
I opened the browser to write another 'how to flirt with a feminist' post, but then I started reading the news (dutifully comparing vocab across the board, aren't I good?) and realised that I would rather express my reactions to the election results: the flirting post will keep another day.
Yes you heard right, ultra-feminist blogger Pinolona did not go to the ballot boxes to exercise her democratic rights (Emily Pankhurst, suffragettes, hunger strikes, guilt, guilt, guilt). She wasted her opportunity and here's why:
1/ To be able to vote in Poland I would have had to have registered before April 27. I discovered this in early May, when people started talking about Euro-elections.
2/ I could have voted in the UK, had I registered before May 27, by:
a) postal vote - going to the post office in Kraków and queuing takes an average of an hour/an hour and a half out of my working day, and please bear in mind that this already includes a four-hour block of classes in either the morning or the afternoon. An extra hour or so lost in the afternoon means an extra hour or so at work in the evening. Combine this with the scanty reliability of Poczta Polska and my vote was unlikely to have made its way to South Eastern ballot boxes by Sunday.
b) proxy vote - not sure about this one: ideally I tell my proxy how I want them to vote for me and they tick the appropriate box. In reality, my proxy probably has his or her own theories about choosing the democratic representative of my best interests, and I'd rather make the decision myself...
Now - don't touch that remote! - I actually think the European Union is by and large a Good Thing. So I'm annoyed that I missed my chance to take part.
Why am I so convinced it's a Good Thing?
Firstly, here in Kraków I've had the chance to meet plenty of students and young professionals from outside the old U of E: Americans, Japanese, Ukrainians, Australians, and I've heard their woes over visas. I don't want to have to trek to Warsaw and have my lungs x-rayed and my criminal record checked every time my visa expires. I'd rather not have to make a trip to Slovakia (lovely location though it is) every three months simply to get a new tourist visa.
As a student I got to work in France for a year through the British Council and I spent a brilliant five months in Italy living off a generous Erasmus grant and... um... studying (in between drinking pinot noir and slurping up linguine). I'm also aware that if I had been an 'EU student' rather than a mere 'English' student I would have paid the same tuition fees at St Andrews as the Scottish students (i.e. significantly less). What's not to love?!
In my adult life, I've never worked in the UK other than on a temporary basis during and immediately after my studies. Why should I go back there? It's wet and grey, and apparently full of BNP voters. No thanks.
Then there's the roaming issue - ok, it's expensive, but thanks to MEPs fretting over their mobile bills, it's not as bad as it might be. My only major bugbear is that Polish pay-as-you-go deals haven't quite got it right yet. It'd be nice, for example, not to have to switch off my data package when I switch on roaming, Mr Simplus GSM, are you listening?
And what about the euro, always a controversial subject? I'm divided over this one: on the one hand, given that Europe is still split into 27 very different economies, I suspect that it's better for each unit to be able to devalue and trade their own currencies as they see fit. On the other hand, most of the companies I work for pay in euros, my bank account is in pounds (since I haven't been resident in the euro-zone since early 2007) and I spend in zlots. Where's the sense in that?
Was there more? Oh yes. Charlemagne's column in this week's Economist notes that what the European Parliament does 'comes under the heading of important but boring'. I would be inclined to agree with that. The language professional who goes by Pinolona's real name regularly translates communications relating to the minutiae of European technical regulations. This is definitely not the stuff of action thrillers, and indeed many people complain in the UK that EU regulations are over-fussy. I'm not one of them. If I'm going to live in Poland, France or Italy, I want to know that the milk I buy in the supermarket is pasteurised to the same specifications as it would be in the UK. I'd like to be certain that the structural bearings in my apartment block are certified to the same standard in all four countries.
There's a market economy aspect too: if Poland comes up with an intellectual property stamp that has to be displayed on all goods sold in this country, well then as a foreign content supplier I'd want to know how to get hold of that stamp. Moreover, should one Member State decide that all products sold within its borders should display a national standard only available in that country, manufacturers from other states should be able to say 'look - hang on, how do we get hold of this standard, and aren't you effectively discriminating against the free movement of goods and services?!'
Not to mention the internet: should I decide to indulge in a little online poker, I need to know that as a consumer my rights are protected regardless of where the site's server may be located.
I digress, and no-one is listening any more.
But still, I look at the British results showing UKIP in second place and two new BNP members, and I wish to goodness I'd got my act together.
I opened the browser to write another 'how to flirt with a feminist' post, but then I started reading the news (dutifully comparing vocab across the board, aren't I good?) and realised that I would rather express my reactions to the election results: the flirting post will keep another day.
Yes you heard right, ultra-feminist blogger Pinolona did not go to the ballot boxes to exercise her democratic rights (Emily Pankhurst, suffragettes, hunger strikes, guilt, guilt, guilt). She wasted her opportunity and here's why:
1/ To be able to vote in Poland I would have had to have registered before April 27. I discovered this in early May, when people started talking about Euro-elections.
2/ I could have voted in the UK, had I registered before May 27, by:
a) postal vote - going to the post office in Kraków and queuing takes an average of an hour/an hour and a half out of my working day, and please bear in mind that this already includes a four-hour block of classes in either the morning or the afternoon. An extra hour or so lost in the afternoon means an extra hour or so at work in the evening. Combine this with the scanty reliability of Poczta Polska and my vote was unlikely to have made its way to South Eastern ballot boxes by Sunday.
b) proxy vote - not sure about this one: ideally I tell my proxy how I want them to vote for me and they tick the appropriate box. In reality, my proxy probably has his or her own theories about choosing the democratic representative of my best interests, and I'd rather make the decision myself...
Now - don't touch that remote! - I actually think the European Union is by and large a Good Thing. So I'm annoyed that I missed my chance to take part.
Why am I so convinced it's a Good Thing?
Firstly, here in Kraków I've had the chance to meet plenty of students and young professionals from outside the old U of E: Americans, Japanese, Ukrainians, Australians, and I've heard their woes over visas. I don't want to have to trek to Warsaw and have my lungs x-rayed and my criminal record checked every time my visa expires. I'd rather not have to make a trip to Slovakia (lovely location though it is) every three months simply to get a new tourist visa.
As a student I got to work in France for a year through the British Council and I spent a brilliant five months in Italy living off a generous Erasmus grant and... um... studying (in between drinking pinot noir and slurping up linguine). I'm also aware that if I had been an 'EU student' rather than a mere 'English' student I would have paid the same tuition fees at St Andrews as the Scottish students (i.e. significantly less). What's not to love?!
In my adult life, I've never worked in the UK other than on a temporary basis during and immediately after my studies. Why should I go back there? It's wet and grey, and apparently full of BNP voters. No thanks.
Then there's the roaming issue - ok, it's expensive, but thanks to MEPs fretting over their mobile bills, it's not as bad as it might be. My only major bugbear is that Polish pay-as-you-go deals haven't quite got it right yet. It'd be nice, for example, not to have to switch off my data package when I switch on roaming, Mr Simplus GSM, are you listening?
And what about the euro, always a controversial subject? I'm divided over this one: on the one hand, given that Europe is still split into 27 very different economies, I suspect that it's better for each unit to be able to devalue and trade their own currencies as they see fit. On the other hand, most of the companies I work for pay in euros, my bank account is in pounds (since I haven't been resident in the euro-zone since early 2007) and I spend in zlots. Where's the sense in that?
Was there more? Oh yes. Charlemagne's column in this week's Economist notes that what the European Parliament does 'comes under the heading of important but boring'. I would be inclined to agree with that. The language professional who goes by Pinolona's real name regularly translates communications relating to the minutiae of European technical regulations. This is definitely not the stuff of action thrillers, and indeed many people complain in the UK that EU regulations are over-fussy. I'm not one of them. If I'm going to live in Poland, France or Italy, I want to know that the milk I buy in the supermarket is pasteurised to the same specifications as it would be in the UK. I'd like to be certain that the structural bearings in my apartment block are certified to the same standard in all four countries.
There's a market economy aspect too: if Poland comes up with an intellectual property stamp that has to be displayed on all goods sold in this country, well then as a foreign content supplier I'd want to know how to get hold of that stamp. Moreover, should one Member State decide that all products sold within its borders should display a national standard only available in that country, manufacturers from other states should be able to say 'look - hang on, how do we get hold of this standard, and aren't you effectively discriminating against the free movement of goods and services?!'
Not to mention the internet: should I decide to indulge in a little online poker, I need to know that as a consumer my rights are protected regardless of where the site's server may be located.
I digress, and no-one is listening any more.
But still, I look at the British results showing UKIP in second place and two new BNP members, and I wish to goodness I'd got my act together.
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
An die Freude
(Warning! This post may include political content!)
Last night I switched on the tv and was confronted with the careful tones of Lech Kaczyński (but I had to check the info feed at the bottom of the screen) holding forth against the Lisbon Treaty, against a backdrop of two gay men signing their wedding vows.
Forgive my misinterpretation of his perspective (= treaty >> charter of human rights >> gay marriage >> The Fall of Polish Society): I don't speak heem very good the Polish yet.
'Joyful, Joyful, we adore Thee' is a staple of the Oregon Catholic Hymnal (stay with me). There are several different versions of this particular rejoicing hymn, for each season of the year, and they all fit the same tune (Beethoven's Ode to Joy).
Sitting in the organ loft playing through the hymns for this weekend, I reflected on how many Centre-Right Catholic Poles in our congregation would unwittingly be singing the European Union anthem this Easter Sunday...
Last night I switched on the tv and was confronted with the careful tones of Lech Kaczyński (but I had to check the info feed at the bottom of the screen) holding forth against the Lisbon Treaty, against a backdrop of two gay men signing their wedding vows.
Forgive my misinterpretation of his perspective (= treaty >> charter of human rights >> gay marriage >> The Fall of Polish Society): I don't speak heem very good the Polish yet.
'Joyful, Joyful, we adore Thee' is a staple of the Oregon Catholic Hymnal (stay with me). There are several different versions of this particular rejoicing hymn, for each season of the year, and they all fit the same tune (Beethoven's Ode to Joy).
Sitting in the organ loft playing through the hymns for this weekend, I reflected on how many Centre-Right Catholic Poles in our congregation would unwittingly be singing the European Union anthem this Easter Sunday...
Thursday, 18 October 2007
O polityce
This was going to be a post about a disorder that is becoming increasingly common in Poland, known as 'dis-ortografia', whereby people are unable to tell whether a word ends in -ą or -om, for example. (Note that this couldn't exist in English because we do not have a phonemic orthographic system: where graphemes- letters- correspond to phonemes- groups of sounds which have the same meaning).
In other words it is a cheeky excuse for not knowing how to spell.
Dis-ortografic students get extra time in exams.
Anyway, I've changed my mind. The elections are coming up, and Poles are worrying about where to hide Granny's ID (so she can't vote Law and Justice- the current government), rather than how to conjugate it. Perhaps it's time to get my nose out of the dictionary and into the Gazeta Wyborcza.*
N.B. perhaps Conservative constituency parties in the UK might employ the ID-hiding method for the next leadership elections...
I have realised, after reading Justyna's latest post, that if I am going to try and speak authentic Polish, I'm going to have to learn how to talk about politics. I feel (momentarily) ashamed of my Anglo-Saxon - but mostly Anglo- reticence. Whatever happened to the teenager who stood up in school assembly to argue with the deputy head about uniform rules?**
But where to start?! Maybe I can practice on the Bad Obwarżanki Lady:
B.O.L.: Prosze?
me, conversationally: Dzien dobry Pani, poprosze butelkę wody mineralnej... i... co Pani myśle o korupcji na priwatizacji szpitalów?***
In all honesty, thus far Polish politics have not been a concern quite simply because my sole motivation in coming here was to get some experience in the profession and learn another EU language so that when I'm older I will get paid more and my kids will go to better schools.
But it turns out that I actually quite like Poland: I like the Bad Obwarżanki Lady, I like Car Guy, my flatmates, the Sacristan at St Giles and so on. And Polish grammar, to my warped little linguistic mind, looks like this:
It's chaos, but it's pretty...
If, like me, you are a total language-nut, try these to be getting on with:
http://www.languagehat.com/
http://romanika.blogspot.com/2004/03/linguist-or-philologist.html
http://david-crystal.blogspot.com/
http://redemptionblues.blogspot.com/2006/07/how-to-be-interpreter.html
Don't worry, I'll find some more...
*It has been observed that this blog contains Too Much Polish. The author resolves to moderate her self-indulgence in this respect. After all, she is not surprised to learn that not everyone finds the locative case as absorbing as she does. In fact, two floors up from her office lives an American TEFL teacher. He has lived in Poland for eight years and quite sensibly avoids the Polish language at all costs. Notably, he observed how irritating it was, on his latest trip home to the States, to Understand Everything. 'Like being able to read people's minds'. What a burden it is to be able to communicate. Thank goodness secondary schools in the UK have very sensibly put an end to this 'compulsory modern languages at GCSE-level' nonsense. After all, around 90% of all Poles under the age of 30 are able to communicate, at least on a basic level, in English. How fortunate, given that the average British adult, having studied either French, German or Spanish for at least two years, can get no further than 'Garçon!; 'Weissbier' or 'Donde esta la playa?'
Well, luckily Poland isn't a major player in Europe. Only 38.6 million inhabitants. And only an estimated 750,000 Poles living in the UK: a mere 1.24% of the population.
Good news for us inarticulate Brits, right?
**uuh... she got expelled... (and then moved to Poland and became a translator- let this be A Lesson To You, O rebellious youth of today).
*** This is supposed to say: 'Good morning. A bottle of water please. By the way- what do you think of corruption in the privatisation of hospitals?' But it probably says something entirely different. No-one said this blog was going to be easy. Take a tough pill.
In other words it is a cheeky excuse for not knowing how to spell.
Dis-ortografic students get extra time in exams.
Anyway, I've changed my mind. The elections are coming up, and Poles are worrying about where to hide Granny's ID (so she can't vote Law and Justice- the current government), rather than how to conjugate it. Perhaps it's time to get my nose out of the dictionary and into the Gazeta Wyborcza.*
N.B. perhaps Conservative constituency parties in the UK might employ the ID-hiding method for the next leadership elections...
I have realised, after reading Justyna's latest post, that if I am going to try and speak authentic Polish, I'm going to have to learn how to talk about politics. I feel (momentarily) ashamed of my Anglo-Saxon - but mostly Anglo- reticence. Whatever happened to the teenager who stood up in school assembly to argue with the deputy head about uniform rules?**
But where to start?! Maybe I can practice on the Bad Obwarżanki Lady:
B.O.L.: Prosze?
me, conversationally: Dzien dobry Pani, poprosze butelkę wody mineralnej... i... co Pani myśle o korupcji na priwatizacji szpitalów?***
In all honesty, thus far Polish politics have not been a concern quite simply because my sole motivation in coming here was to get some experience in the profession and learn another EU language so that when I'm older I will get paid more and my kids will go to better schools.
But it turns out that I actually quite like Poland: I like the Bad Obwarżanki Lady, I like Car Guy, my flatmates, the Sacristan at St Giles and so on. And Polish grammar, to my warped little linguistic mind, looks like this:
It's chaos, but it's pretty...
If, like me, you are a total language-nut, try these to be getting on with:
http://www.languagehat.com/
http://romanika.blogspot.com/2004/03/linguist-or-philologist.html
http://david-crystal.blogspot.com/
http://redemptionblues.blogspot.com/2006/07/how-to-be-interpreter.html
Don't worry, I'll find some more...
*It has been observed that this blog contains Too Much Polish. The author resolves to moderate her self-indulgence in this respect. After all, she is not surprised to learn that not everyone finds the locative case as absorbing as she does. In fact, two floors up from her office lives an American TEFL teacher. He has lived in Poland for eight years and quite sensibly avoids the Polish language at all costs. Notably, he observed how irritating it was, on his latest trip home to the States, to Understand Everything. 'Like being able to read people's minds'. What a burden it is to be able to communicate. Thank goodness secondary schools in the UK have very sensibly put an end to this 'compulsory modern languages at GCSE-level' nonsense. After all, around 90% of all Poles under the age of 30 are able to communicate, at least on a basic level, in English. How fortunate, given that the average British adult, having studied either French, German or Spanish for at least two years, can get no further than 'Garçon!; 'Weissbier' or 'Donde esta la playa?'
Well, luckily Poland isn't a major player in Europe. Only 38.6 million inhabitants. And only an estimated 750,000 Poles living in the UK: a mere 1.24% of the population.
Good news for us inarticulate Brits, right?
**uuh... she got expelled... (and then moved to Poland and became a translator- let this be A Lesson To You, O rebellious youth of today).
*** This is supposed to say: 'Good morning. A bottle of water please. By the way- what do you think of corruption in the privatisation of hospitals?' But it probably says something entirely different. No-one said this blog was going to be easy. Take a tough pill.
Monday, 15 October 2007
Rugby
Now I don't normally follow sport all that closely, but I do love rugby because just occasionally it provides me with an opportunity to Gloat Over The French, as is only right and proper.
Imagine my delight when, tuning into the Today programme on Wednesday morning, I found myself listening to the wailing and tooth-gnashing of several New Zealanders, who hadn't even considered that NZ might be knocked out early, stuck in Paris with unwanted tickets for the World Cup semi-final.
That was Wednesday: by Saturday night, the Polish 'Golden Autumn' ('Blue Autumn' possibly more appropriate given my general hue after an hour and a half of rollerblading along the Wisla in shorts) and a rather breathless start to the school term had conspired to make me forget all about the plight of the Kiwis* and the England-France match.
It was only once I was sitting on the bed with mascara still wet, trying to keep still so as not to make the hairdryer cut out (the circuitry in our flat is ever-so-slightly sketchy, which adds a fun, surprise element to basic everyday tasks such as vacuuming, computing and having the light on) and waiting for the doorbell to ring, that I realised the Battle must already be underway. Johnny Wilkinson could be running rings around the French and I'd never know!
Polish radio was out of the question- I can barely grasp the weather forecast (probably just as well- the prospect of winter is starting to give me the serious jitters and it's possible that if I had actually known that it would be minus one on Monday morning, I'd have been on the next WizzAir to Bari before you could say 'Ambre Solaire').
I tried the Radio Five live site.
- 'Streaming in progress...
The doorbell rang.
- Results? It's terrible, Kazakhstan are beating Poland... Rugby? No, in the football, what rugby?
The Poles seem singularly lacking in concern for oval-shaped sports and the Importance of Beating the French.
As a last-ditch attempt, I sent a desperate Skype message home, but to no avail. It was Saturday evening, around Silent Witness time. I didn't stand a chance.
An hour and a half later (punctuated by two stops for provisions- both shops had the radio tuned stubbornly to the Poland-Kazakhstan match- and a long, chilly walk in the suburbs) I found myself seriously out of my depth as the youngest person at a Very Grown-up Party. Unfortunately my Polish is still not up to phrases like: 'So... what keeps you busy these days?' or 'Aren't interest rates just murder?' (or even: 'Nightmare trying to find a babysitter'- although this is unlikely to be a problem in Poland, thanks to the babcia army).
- You must have some vodka- then you'll be able to speak Polish; urged the hostess.
I have already tried this method on several occasions and as yet have no consistent set of results (although that may be more due to the unreliable memory of the researcher- me- the next morning).
I managed to muddle through a couple of questions about working in Dublin, and then took refuge in English, and, unexpectedly, Italian.
By the time I finally learnt the results of the rugby (around midnight, by bullying one of the grown-ups into looking it up on his rather swish palm-top device), I no longer cared that I was juvenile in appearance, professionally rather scruffy and distinctly deficient on the communications side of things.
Whooping and dancing seemed to be the most appropriate course of action.
ps: There will be an election here soon. From eavesdropping on Polish friends I've learnt that Donald Tusk is Our Man. Please accept my apologies for the lack of pertinent political content in this blog. Although I managed to scrape through a Government and Politics A-Level (which largely involved memorising mysterious phrases such as 'single transferable vote', plus a rather thrilling paper on Marxist Feminism), back in my jolly school days, please do not expect any intelligent comment from me. At least not until I've got the hang of the basics (crossing the road, listening to the breakfast news, telling the shop assistant I'm Just Looking and so on).
*(A Singularly Comforting proper noun because it is totally uninflectable in Polish: biedny Kiwi; idę na rugby z Kiwi; oglądam sport z Kiwi; lubie Kiwi; nie lubie Kiwi; myślę o Kiwi; i tak dalej ad infinitum...)
Imagine my delight when, tuning into the Today programme on Wednesday morning, I found myself listening to the wailing and tooth-gnashing of several New Zealanders, who hadn't even considered that NZ might be knocked out early, stuck in Paris with unwanted tickets for the World Cup semi-final.
That was Wednesday: by Saturday night, the Polish 'Golden Autumn' ('Blue Autumn' possibly more appropriate given my general hue after an hour and a half of rollerblading along the Wisla in shorts) and a rather breathless start to the school term had conspired to make me forget all about the plight of the Kiwis* and the England-France match.
It was only once I was sitting on the bed with mascara still wet, trying to keep still so as not to make the hairdryer cut out (the circuitry in our flat is ever-so-slightly sketchy, which adds a fun, surprise element to basic everyday tasks such as vacuuming, computing and having the light on) and waiting for the doorbell to ring, that I realised the Battle must already be underway. Johnny Wilkinson could be running rings around the French and I'd never know!
Polish radio was out of the question- I can barely grasp the weather forecast (probably just as well- the prospect of winter is starting to give me the serious jitters and it's possible that if I had actually known that it would be minus one on Monday morning, I'd have been on the next WizzAir to Bari before you could say 'Ambre Solaire').
I tried the Radio Five live site.
- 'Streaming in progress...
The doorbell rang.
- Results? It's terrible, Kazakhstan are beating Poland... Rugby? No, in the football, what rugby?
The Poles seem singularly lacking in concern for oval-shaped sports and the Importance of Beating the French.
As a last-ditch attempt, I sent a desperate Skype message home, but to no avail. It was Saturday evening, around Silent Witness time. I didn't stand a chance.
An hour and a half later (punctuated by two stops for provisions- both shops had the radio tuned stubbornly to the Poland-Kazakhstan match- and a long, chilly walk in the suburbs) I found myself seriously out of my depth as the youngest person at a Very Grown-up Party. Unfortunately my Polish is still not up to phrases like: 'So... what keeps you busy these days?' or 'Aren't interest rates just murder?' (or even: 'Nightmare trying to find a babysitter'- although this is unlikely to be a problem in Poland, thanks to the babcia army).
- You must have some vodka- then you'll be able to speak Polish; urged the hostess.
I have already tried this method on several occasions and as yet have no consistent set of results (although that may be more due to the unreliable memory of the researcher- me- the next morning).
I managed to muddle through a couple of questions about working in Dublin, and then took refuge in English, and, unexpectedly, Italian.
By the time I finally learnt the results of the rugby (around midnight, by bullying one of the grown-ups into looking it up on his rather swish palm-top device), I no longer cared that I was juvenile in appearance, professionally rather scruffy and distinctly deficient on the communications side of things.
Whooping and dancing seemed to be the most appropriate course of action.
ps: There will be an election here soon. From eavesdropping on Polish friends I've learnt that Donald Tusk is Our Man. Please accept my apologies for the lack of pertinent political content in this blog. Although I managed to scrape through a Government and Politics A-Level (which largely involved memorising mysterious phrases such as 'single transferable vote', plus a rather thrilling paper on Marxist Feminism), back in my jolly school days, please do not expect any intelligent comment from me. At least not until I've got the hang of the basics (crossing the road, listening to the breakfast news, telling the shop assistant I'm Just Looking and so on).
*(A Singularly Comforting proper noun because it is totally uninflectable in Polish: biedny Kiwi; idę na rugby z Kiwi; oglądam sport z Kiwi; lubie Kiwi; nie lubie Kiwi; myślę o Kiwi; i tak dalej ad infinitum...)
Thursday, 10 May 2007
faux pas
Following an hour and a half of extra Polish classes this week, I have now become acquainted with the Instrumental Case (and consequently am one up in grammar terms on the BF, who only knows Latin. Yes!!). The instrumental is where you change the ending of an adjective which describes who or what something is (just bear with me, it'll lighten up in a minute), e.g. 'he is an English student'.
Our teacher played a little game with us, suggesting a name (e.g. 'Michael Jackson') so we could identify the nationality and profession. Now, I am dreadful with names, and was doing appallingly in comparison with my classmate. Of course, I'm not a competitive person, now that I've left school and nobody is writing report cards for me any more, but I Hate It when other people (especially male people) score better than me.
After various French actresses, German politicians and American dentists, the teacher pronounced 'Lech Kaczynski'. Eager to score some points by knowing a Polish person, I leapt in without looking:
-jest polskim aktorem... ?
She gave me a strange look:
-no. This is the Polish president.
-...
I have made a step forward in my quest to practice social Polish: the other night my flatmates had some friends round to watch a popular Polish series about a lawyer called Magda. During the commercial break an advert was shown, where a man is sitting on the sofa next to his somewhat wrinkly canine companion. The guy goes out of the room, eats a Polo mint or something and comes back, with such fresh breath that the dog, in delight, leaps up and kisses him full on the mouth.
The perfect opportunity to slip in a casual 'what a charming dog!'.
I am now going to start hanging around televisions, waiting for the right moment...
Our teacher played a little game with us, suggesting a name (e.g. 'Michael Jackson') so we could identify the nationality and profession. Now, I am dreadful with names, and was doing appallingly in comparison with my classmate. Of course, I'm not a competitive person, now that I've left school and nobody is writing report cards for me any more, but I Hate It when other people (especially male people) score better than me.
After various French actresses, German politicians and American dentists, the teacher pronounced 'Lech Kaczynski'. Eager to score some points by knowing a Polish person, I leapt in without looking:
-jest polskim aktorem... ?
She gave me a strange look:
-no. This is the Polish president.
-...
I have made a step forward in my quest to practice social Polish: the other night my flatmates had some friends round to watch a popular Polish series about a lawyer called Magda. During the commercial break an advert was shown, where a man is sitting on the sofa next to his somewhat wrinkly canine companion. The guy goes out of the room, eats a Polo mint or something and comes back, with such fresh breath that the dog, in delight, leaps up and kisses him full on the mouth.
The perfect opportunity to slip in a casual 'what a charming dog!'.
I am now going to start hanging around televisions, waiting for the right moment...
Friday, 23 March 2007
politics (ooh la la!)
In the comic operetta 'Iolanthe', WS Gilbert claims that we are all of us 'either a little liberal, or else a little conservative'- definitively one or the other from birth.
I think he would have had a problem with current French split-personality politics.
Last night, for example, my two flatmates got into a heated debate over the state of France today, and the Sarkozy/Royal conundrum.
In all honesty I haven't heard such committed Thatcherism since I last nibbled on a scone at the Sevenoaks constituency Conservative summer tea.
On unemployment: the poor guy who travels 3 hours every morning on the RER to earn the minimum wage shouldn't be worse off than the guy living it up on benefits.
On disaffected youth in the banlieues: why can't they just get off their behinds and make the effort and get a job?
On immigration: well of course if you let just anyone in...
On the SNCF strike: just wait till privatization and see how they like that!
On the forthcoming Presidential elections:
-I'd never vote right-wing!
-Absolutely not! We've always been Socialists!
I think he would have had a problem with current French split-personality politics.
Last night, for example, my two flatmates got into a heated debate over the state of France today, and the Sarkozy/Royal conundrum.
In all honesty I haven't heard such committed Thatcherism since I last nibbled on a scone at the Sevenoaks constituency Conservative summer tea.
On unemployment: the poor guy who travels 3 hours every morning on the RER to earn the minimum wage shouldn't be worse off than the guy living it up on benefits.
On disaffected youth in the banlieues: why can't they just get off their behinds and make the effort and get a job?
On immigration: well of course if you let just anyone in...
On the SNCF strike: just wait till privatization and see how they like that!
On the forthcoming Presidential elections:
-I'd never vote right-wing!
-Absolutely not! We've always been Socialists!
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