I'm getting confused between my Bosnian (minimal), my Russian (terrible) and my Chinese (was once functional in that I could buy a portion of prawn egg fried rice and take a bus across Taipei but has now deteriorated to the level of the first two). My French is in a completely separate brain compartment – the rusty but can actually construct complete sentences if I put my mind to it section – but all the other bits of languages I once knew have morphed into a weird amalgamation of bits of phrases that are useful when talking to 5 years olds (things like "cat", "well done" and "2 beers please").
My brain just doesn't seem to be set up to deal with languages that well, despite supposedly having a degree in them. And my English is a bit dodgy too, come to think of it. I may give up trying to communicate with the outside world and instead express everything through the medium of gruntage.
Just been for drinks and Thai curry at The Railway with Thomas, Helen and Helen's friend Jenny. Followed by Helen's gorgeous "the secular equivalent of heaven" chocolate brownie and icecream, after which I waddled back to Clapham South for some sleep. Now roll on Friday and the weekend…