I was a very poor student. I went and studied literature at King's College London but I ended up trapped in this awful sleeping pattern and spent half the days in bed. Still, I had a unique approach to exams and essay writing which allowed me to scrape through with a 2:1, but I think that's a different story.
At the end of the second year things were beyond salvaging though. I only turned up at some of the classes after the mid term break and the professors would wonder just who I was and, quite rightly, complain about me. I had missed deadlines, I'd failed to read the books that I should have read and I felt completely unprepared for examinations. I asked for a year out in which to complete my coursework and, at the end of which, to sit that year's exams.
I have always, especially in my younger days, been attracted to junk shops. There was a second hand furniture shop, which was only open for a year or two, at the beginning of The Holloway Road. It was a few doors down from the Wig And Gown pub where they used to hold pop pub quizzes I think, and in the basement of this shop there were always mountains of house clearance rubbish to sift through.
One winter morning, right at the outset of my year out, I took a look in there. There was a collection of Russian books, the collection, I was told, of a Junior Diplomat. They were all quite old and beautiful, the ones that attracted me the most were an impressive two volume world atlas from the turn of the Century. I returned the next day after having borrowed ten pounds to buy them but I was too late, they had been sold. But still, I left with a handful of novels, a couple of picture books of religious icons and a very old Russian Grammar for English speakers.
In summer I took the grammar to Springfield Park. The phrases that were used to illustrate rules and points were very odd and had a strange poetry, like the phrases spoken over the radio in Cocteau's film Orphée. I began to learn the alphabet. On the way home, by coincidence, I found a modern Russian language paperback for basic learners in the charity shop opposite my flat on Amhurst Parade. It was the very same book that a fellow pupil called Tim had brought with him to school one day. He was a ginger haired, big headed, supercilious, self righteous, religious, right wing boy with eczema. He now works for Microsoft and lives in California. In fact, I now remember that I sent him a pleasant message and a friend request a few years ago on Facebook both of which he ignored. Anyway, I asked if I might borrow this paperback Russian language book but he refused, snorting with derision saying in his reedy, slightly out of control way, 'You! You could never learn Russian!' So I bought the paperback. After a day or two I had the alphabet worked out (it's much easier to learn than I imagined it would be) and then I started learning the language proper.
I have been learning it ever since and now have a good grasp of the grammar, although I need to keep up practice to use the correct cases and genders when speaking. I do have a pretty wide vocabulary though. Unfortunately I left my copy of Pulkina's Grammar in a telephone box opposite Hackney Downs overground station. It had an impressive, futurist hardbound cover and I was disappointed that it's replacement, which I ordered from the Russian bookshop which was traded for only a few years from a shop on the corner of Denmark Street and Shaftsbury Avenue, had a very ugly, blue paper cover.
I have found that I really do love languages, which is odd because, as a child, I was never all that proficient. I've picked up a lot of French and German and have taught myself a little Japanese and Arabic, but I need to have more discipline and put in time every day. I had a private tutor for a few months last year, Anna. She left to live with her boyfriend in Nottingham but she recommended an old college friend of hers, Natalia, who has since finished her studies here and returned to Novosibirsk. I enjoyed my Russian lessons and I should probably look for a new tutor. I felt very proud to be told that I was the most advanced of their students :)
Incidentally, if you have read, or watched A Clockwork Orange you already know plenty of Russian with the slang used there.
At the end of the second year things were beyond salvaging though. I only turned up at some of the classes after the mid term break and the professors would wonder just who I was and, quite rightly, complain about me. I had missed deadlines, I'd failed to read the books that I should have read and I felt completely unprepared for examinations. I asked for a year out in which to complete my coursework and, at the end of which, to sit that year's exams.
I have always, especially in my younger days, been attracted to junk shops. There was a second hand furniture shop, which was only open for a year or two, at the beginning of The Holloway Road. It was a few doors down from the Wig And Gown pub where they used to hold pop pub quizzes I think, and in the basement of this shop there were always mountains of house clearance rubbish to sift through.
One winter morning, right at the outset of my year out, I took a look in there. There was a collection of Russian books, the collection, I was told, of a Junior Diplomat. They were all quite old and beautiful, the ones that attracted me the most were an impressive two volume world atlas from the turn of the Century. I returned the next day after having borrowed ten pounds to buy them but I was too late, they had been sold. But still, I left with a handful of novels, a couple of picture books of religious icons and a very old Russian Grammar for English speakers.
In summer I took the grammar to Springfield Park. The phrases that were used to illustrate rules and points were very odd and had a strange poetry, like the phrases spoken over the radio in Cocteau's film Orphée. I began to learn the alphabet. On the way home, by coincidence, I found a modern Russian language paperback for basic learners in the charity shop opposite my flat on Amhurst Parade. It was the very same book that a fellow pupil called Tim had brought with him to school one day. He was a ginger haired, big headed, supercilious, self righteous, religious, right wing boy with eczema. He now works for Microsoft and lives in California. In fact, I now remember that I sent him a pleasant message and a friend request a few years ago on Facebook both of which he ignored. Anyway, I asked if I might borrow this paperback Russian language book but he refused, snorting with derision saying in his reedy, slightly out of control way, 'You! You could never learn Russian!' So I bought the paperback. After a day or two I had the alphabet worked out (it's much easier to learn than I imagined it would be) and then I started learning the language proper.
I have been learning it ever since and now have a good grasp of the grammar, although I need to keep up practice to use the correct cases and genders when speaking. I do have a pretty wide vocabulary though. Unfortunately I left my copy of Pulkina's Grammar in a telephone box opposite Hackney Downs overground station. It had an impressive, futurist hardbound cover and I was disappointed that it's replacement, which I ordered from the Russian bookshop which was traded for only a few years from a shop on the corner of Denmark Street and Shaftsbury Avenue, had a very ugly, blue paper cover.
I have found that I really do love languages, which is odd because, as a child, I was never all that proficient. I've picked up a lot of French and German and have taught myself a little Japanese and Arabic, but I need to have more discipline and put in time every day. I had a private tutor for a few months last year, Anna. She left to live with her boyfriend in Nottingham but she recommended an old college friend of hers, Natalia, who has since finished her studies here and returned to Novosibirsk. I enjoyed my Russian lessons and I should probably look for a new tutor. I felt very proud to be told that I was the most advanced of their students :)
Incidentally, if you have read, or watched A Clockwork Orange you already know plenty of Russian with the slang used there.
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