I was in the village yesterday, and I picked up one of those night classes brochures.
You never know. They might be holding classes in something interesting like macrame or flower arranging.
There were the usual courses. The was Life Drawing, but Herself said no to that one. There was Pottery, Belly Dancing, Golf, Bridge and Cooking.
I pondered if there was any connection between Fencing, Woodwork and Nail Technician Certificate? I decided there wasn’t, though it would make a nice portfolio if I were going for a job as a carpenter.
There were a few strange ones, like Hair Extension Technician, Angel Meditation and Stott Pilates [that sounds like a Brazillian footballer].
There was one I mused over – Blogging for Beginners. I decided I wasn’t ready for that yet.
But what really struck me was the number of foreign language courses. They have. French, German, Italian, Japanese, Polish, Spanish and Russian. I can understand the likes of French and Spanish, as it’s handy to have the language when on holiday. But Russian and Polish?
Then it struck me.
What they are doing is teaching us foreign languages so we can go into our local shops and speak to the staff! More and more, I am encountering Manuel from Faulty Towers. I go into a shop and ask for pipe cleaners or something and all I get is “que?” or a blank stare.
I like immigrants. They add colour and diversity to a gene pool. But I do wish they’d learn the language. Particularly before getting a job that deals with the public. I mean to say, what is the point of shouting a few choice swear words at the chap in the call centre if he doesn’t understand what you are saying? I am dreading the day they employ a foreigner in the chemist. If ever you need to be able to communicate, then that’s it. I visualise the scene where I go in for Xanax and come out with Durex.
So now we need to learn their language rather than the other way around.
I have only one thing to say to that.
Póg mo thóin