The English Lesson

“How about an ice cream and an English conversation...” Barbara asked.

I hung up the phone, shut off my computer, and headed to La Noisette to meet Barbara and Marina.

This is not my Syrian friend Marina, but a gite-owning Catalan who has a new job with a Swiss company. The young woman, although she took seven years of English, is afraid that her English won’t be good enough to meet the daily requirements of the job.

Franck brought us pistachio, mango and peach wine ice cream served in Manhattan type cocktail glasses with twisted blue stems.

For the next hour we talked, correcting her where necessary, building her confidence when it became obvious she understood most of what we were saying. Being in the opposite position with French, we understood what she was going through. Unlike us she is still translating rather than thinking in the language. But there are times when we're tired both Barbara and I switch off from thinking into translating.

Chris, the owner of the house across from the end of our street joined us. He is on holiday from London where he designs stage sets. He has painted the front of the house with a mural of plants. He joined us and Marina now had three different accents to listen to.

Kay his wife came along, as did Hannah, a Danish woman fluent in English.

An hour and a half later, Marina’s eyes were glazing over from the concentration. Franck was clearing away our dishes. “C’est difficile,” Marina said.

“It’s difficult,” Barbara corrected.

“It’s difficult,” Marina said.