Blog powered by Typepad

« "The real test of a political system is what happens when conditions worsen" | Main | So, it's farewell then, Lisbeth Salander »

Monday, 19 April 2010


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

The nearest I ever got to such praise was bargaining in a Paris flea market. When I turned to my beloved to speak in English, the stallholder struck her brow and yelled in anguish "Vous etes touristes!" My old French teacher would have loved it. He always said I had spontaneously developed a convincing Marseille accent. As for acting, we rehearsed a school play for two terms and were then refused permission to stage it because it was too close to the exams. Buggering bastards, we said in our sophisticated thespian way.

Hissy fits all round, eh, 'DM'? What was the play and what was your role, but more important than that - were you any good, darling?

I often got a surprised "Ti ne Russkii?", but only if I'd kept my mouth shut for a while. As soon as I opened it the cat was out of the bag, but hitherto the leather jacket, bootneck haircut, and concentration-camp frame led everyone to believe I was Russian. And I wasn't even acting!

You really ought to write a book on your Russian experiences, Tim, I think it would be a good read.

The comments to this entry are closed.