Language barred

I am ashamed of my fellow teachers at just how impressed the Japanese are at my paltry and strangulated attempts at using their language. I have mustered `excuse me` and `thank you` a handful of times and the receptionists gasp. While they are often not a very sincere nation, their surprise is real.

The Russian was back at my Japanese lesson this week. She is called Vanya, I think, and was telling me how grateful she is that her daughter is not yet old enough to buy into Japanese consumer culture and demand and demand and demand, like her classmates already do. She is more than happy to make ill-fitting doll`s clothes and enjoy the time with her mother. Vanya knows it won`t last. We got hand-made Vietnamese spring rolls this week. A Vietnamese classmate brought in enough ingredients to feed a factory. The impoverished English teachers did their best to make up for the missing proles and polished off the lot. It was incredible - far better than the soggy condom of ditch litter I had in Watford a while back. Hoyosa-san is pleased with my `near-perfect` Japanese this lesson (she said it was actually perfect, but I think she was just trying to be encouraging). I can now say I am Mr Tanaka of Tokyo Electric.

One of the waspish receptionists at Shin-Shiraoka entertained me and the cover teacher with her plans to visit Paris for the December break. It is her third trip and her friend`s first. They are doing Paris, Versailles and other nearby areas in seven days by coach. I don`t know how her coiffure will stay coiffed in such conditions. Her husband thinks she is going to Guam and is has had to pack a dummy suitcase of beachwear to keep him off the expensive scent.

In the Sex Offender`s absence, I worked with Sean on Wednesday. He`s a very likeable Northerner (is that an oxymoron?!) who immediately announced his first five months were improving as he was suddenly getting lots of dates. When he announced `DATES`, I didn`t quite understand, which was niave of me. It`s why men come here. He did an intensive CELTA and also carries Michael Swan around with him like a green-arsed fly. Girls cried in the fourth week of his course.

I hate laminate flooring. My wooden floors drive up clouds of unpleasantness each and every day. No amount of dusting, hoovering or sweeping can keep up with the dust brought forth by the bare expanse. I am pining for something other than laminate, but is that just an invitation to asthma or should I worry about the amount of dust I produce?

I was unduly nervous for my second observation on Thursday and worked myself up into such a fretful lather I cocked it up more than I should have done (heard that one somewhere before...). My students also put the boot in by doing some of the exercises at home, how wonderfully keen, thereby sabotaging my carefully laid out lesson plan. Yukiko has had her house dismantled and it is in the process of being rebuilt else where (the Japanese are so literal, even when it comes to moving house) and so has no oven and I had no olive bread. I did get a fried apple pie, which was like a sweet spring roll. It was good, but my expectations needed managing.