Tuesday 29 December 2009
Monday 28 December 2009
Christmas Day Part 3
Virus accepted a cup of tea, reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out something that looked like a cross between a digital thermometer and a drinking straw. He sucked the end for a moment, stirred his tea until the device went "beep!", glanced at the display, nodded, and then began to drink his tea through a hole in the end of his device. I tried not to stare.
"Call me ViRus," he said at last. "That's how it works. Vincent Russell, yah? Like, you're Mary Dunwich, so that makes you, like, MaD."
"I think I must be!" I muttered. "But please call me Mary, er, ViRus. Humour your great-grandma."
He rolled his eyes again. I noticed the way the glowing green irises rotated clockwise a quarter turn.
"Are you going to look at your present now?" asked James, who had been fidgeting with impatience. "It took ages! We had to recalibrate the machine for a Bendy. We had to do all sorts of sums. Good job ViRus has a quantum computer or it would have taken years!"
I looked at the bag. What could it contain? I could imagine a lot of things. What could it contain that could possibly be worse than what I could imagine?
Whatever we Dunwiches may be, we aren't cowards. I put down my cup of tea and advanced towards the bag.
I was rather proud that I managed not to scream. Inside the bag was what had to be either a dead three year-old or an extremely convincing dummy. It (he) was naked, with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on its (his?) round little face.
"Wh.....at is it?" I managed at last.
James looked affronted. "It's a Bendy!" he said. "A completely organic bioclone. No synthetic parts at all. All carbon-based, silicon-free. That's why they call them Bendys."
I looked again at the Bendy. It did, indeed, bear more than a passing resemblance to James. It could almost be a replica of him at three years old.
"You cloned yourself and made a three year-old?" I asked. "Why in the name of C'thul'hu would you do that?"
"Nappies," answered James. "This way we get one already potty-trained. And it's easy enough to keep them in the tank until they're any age you want. It just meant I had to go back for him a couple of years later."
"Can I start him up?" asked Minnie, jigging up and down with excitement. "Please, please, please?"
I nodded. I didn't think I could take much more excitement.
Minnie rummaged in the bag, pulled out what looked like a tin key, inserted it in the dummy's belly button, and rotated clockwise a quarter turn. Then she pulled the key out and beamed with self-satisfaction.
The Bendy's eyes opened. So did his mouth. He started to scream.
"Yah, they do that!" said ViRus, indifferently. "It's always a bit of a shock, taking the first breath."
What I don't know about bioclones could fill the British Library. Crying children I understand. I scooped the little boy up in my arms and rocked him, holding him close to me and making shooshing noises.
"He's our baby brother!" announced Minnie with pride. "I always wanted a little brother. You said we couldn't have one. So James made one for us. He's your Christmas present from us!"
"I was going to clone Dodgson," confessed James. "I thought a second dodo would make a brilliant Christmas present. I could have made a girl and you could have bred them. But it's illegal to clone animals where ViRus comes from. We had to clone me instead."
ViRus continued: "Bendies were all the rage a couple of years ago," he said. "Everyone wanted one. Sili-clones are sooo Eighties. And no-one gives birth any more. That went out in the mid twenty-first century. Practically mediaeval."
"I don't think we can keep him," I said. The screams had subsided into sobs, the sobs into sniffs. After another a minute he had stopped crying altogether. He wiped his nose on my shoulder.
"It's a lovely thought, children, and Virus, but what would we do with another child? We can't afford him. We don't have room for him. I don't think it's even legal to clone your own children yet. We could get into trouble."
ViRus nodded cheerfully. "Fair enough!" he said. "I can take him back with me. Bendies are fully recyclable."
I looked down and saw a pair of blue eyes gazing up at me.
"Recyclable?" I asked.
"Yah! They re-use the bits," answered ViRus, picking up a mince pie and examining it carefully.
"No-one recycles a Dunwich!" I said, hugging the bioclone a little tighter. The bioclone grimaced, burped and started to pick his nose.
ViRus shrugged. "Well, he comes with a three year guarantee," he said, prizing the top off his pie to examine the filling. If you change your mind, you can always return him. He's fully ....."
"Recyclable! I get it!" I snapped back. The bioclone grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. I remembered James doing exactly the same eyebrow-waggle at his age. I felt my eyes starting to fill with a nostalgic tear.
When Charlie came in with a crash and a muffled "Damn those wellies!" I was still holding the bioclone. Charlie looked at me, then at the little boy, then at ViRus. Then he looked at me again.
"Have you biochecked your great-grandad, ViRus?" I asked brightly. "Charlie, this is your great-grandson!" Charlie grinned, grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "And this is your youngest son, Bendy. Er.... Ben D. Ben. Er. He's a clone of James. You can tell them apart though. Ben's got blue eyes!" I was starting to gabble. I stopped and took a deep, calming breath.
"Well, I'll be jiggery-pokered!" said Charlie.
"Call me ViRus," he said at last. "That's how it works. Vincent Russell, yah? Like, you're Mary Dunwich, so that makes you, like, MaD."
"I think I must be!" I muttered. "But please call me Mary, er, ViRus. Humour your great-grandma."
He rolled his eyes again. I noticed the way the glowing green irises rotated clockwise a quarter turn.
"Are you going to look at your present now?" asked James, who had been fidgeting with impatience. "It took ages! We had to recalibrate the machine for a Bendy. We had to do all sorts of sums. Good job ViRus has a quantum computer or it would have taken years!"
I looked at the bag. What could it contain? I could imagine a lot of things. What could it contain that could possibly be worse than what I could imagine?
Whatever we Dunwiches may be, we aren't cowards. I put down my cup of tea and advanced towards the bag.
I was rather proud that I managed not to scream. Inside the bag was what had to be either a dead three year-old or an extremely convincing dummy. It (he) was naked, with eyes closed and a peaceful expression on its (his?) round little face.
"Wh.....at is it?" I managed at last.
James looked affronted. "It's a Bendy!" he said. "A completely organic bioclone. No synthetic parts at all. All carbon-based, silicon-free. That's why they call them Bendys."
I looked again at the Bendy. It did, indeed, bear more than a passing resemblance to James. It could almost be a replica of him at three years old.
"You cloned yourself and made a three year-old?" I asked. "Why in the name of C'thul'hu would you do that?"
"Nappies," answered James. "This way we get one already potty-trained. And it's easy enough to keep them in the tank until they're any age you want. It just meant I had to go back for him a couple of years later."
"Can I start him up?" asked Minnie, jigging up and down with excitement. "Please, please, please?"
I nodded. I didn't think I could take much more excitement.
Minnie rummaged in the bag, pulled out what looked like a tin key, inserted it in the dummy's belly button, and rotated clockwise a quarter turn. Then she pulled the key out and beamed with self-satisfaction.
The Bendy's eyes opened. So did his mouth. He started to scream.
"Yah, they do that!" said ViRus, indifferently. "It's always a bit of a shock, taking the first breath."
What I don't know about bioclones could fill the British Library. Crying children I understand. I scooped the little boy up in my arms and rocked him, holding him close to me and making shooshing noises.
"He's our baby brother!" announced Minnie with pride. "I always wanted a little brother. You said we couldn't have one. So James made one for us. He's your Christmas present from us!"
"I was going to clone Dodgson," confessed James. "I thought a second dodo would make a brilliant Christmas present. I could have made a girl and you could have bred them. But it's illegal to clone animals where ViRus comes from. We had to clone me instead."
ViRus continued: "Bendies were all the rage a couple of years ago," he said. "Everyone wanted one. Sili-clones are sooo Eighties. And no-one gives birth any more. That went out in the mid twenty-first century. Practically mediaeval."
"I don't think we can keep him," I said. The screams had subsided into sobs, the sobs into sniffs. After another a minute he had stopped crying altogether. He wiped his nose on my shoulder.
"It's a lovely thought, children, and Virus, but what would we do with another child? We can't afford him. We don't have room for him. I don't think it's even legal to clone your own children yet. We could get into trouble."
ViRus nodded cheerfully. "Fair enough!" he said. "I can take him back with me. Bendies are fully recyclable."
I looked down and saw a pair of blue eyes gazing up at me.
"Recyclable?" I asked.
"Yah! They re-use the bits," answered ViRus, picking up a mince pie and examining it carefully.
"No-one recycles a Dunwich!" I said, hugging the bioclone a little tighter. The bioclone grimaced, burped and started to pick his nose.
ViRus shrugged. "Well, he comes with a three year guarantee," he said, prizing the top off his pie to examine the filling. If you change your mind, you can always return him. He's fully ....."
"Recyclable! I get it!" I snapped back. The bioclone grinned at me and waggled his eyebrows. I remembered James doing exactly the same eyebrow-waggle at his age. I felt my eyes starting to fill with a nostalgic tear.
When Charlie came in with a crash and a muffled "Damn those wellies!" I was still holding the bioclone. Charlie looked at me, then at the little boy, then at ViRus. Then he looked at me again.
"Have you biochecked your great-grandad, ViRus?" I asked brightly. "Charlie, this is your great-grandson!" Charlie grinned, grasped the outstretched hand and shook it. "And this is your youngest son, Bendy. Er.... Ben D. Ben. Er. He's a clone of James. You can tell them apart though. Ben's got blue eyes!" I was starting to gabble. I stopped and took a deep, calming breath.
"Well, I'll be jiggery-pokered!" said Charlie.
Christmas Day Part 2
I was woken by a crash and a colourful expression from the kitchen. I assumed at first it was Charlie, tripping over the pile of children's wellies by the back door. Imagine my surprise, therefore, to see a tall, slim man wearing leather drainpipe trousers, a purple shirt and mirrored sunglasses staggering through the door carrying what looked like a cross between a guitar case and a body bag.
I glanced at Minnie. She was busy headbanging with her eyes fixed on her drum kit and so hadn't noticed a thing. No clues there as to how to respond to this intruder.
I looked at the man more closely. Purple, black and white stripey hair. Diamond nose stud. Age....difficult to tell. I felt I should know who he was. There was a tantalising sense of familiarity about him.
"Hey, Great-Grandma!" he said. "Biocheck!"
He extended his left hand. I looked at it dubiously. The fingertips were a matt, metallic blue.
"How do you do?" replied my mouth on autopilot. My right hand extended by its own volition towards my unexpected visitor.
The man rolled his eyes. "Biocheck, Great-aunt Minnie!" he yelled. Minnie nodded, extended her left hand, and they performed a well-practised finger dance together. I inferred that James has already taken her to visit her family in the twenty-second century.
"You must be Virus," I said, suddenly feeling old.
James appeared from behind his grandson. "Virus helped me bring your present in," he said, nodding towards the guitar case / body bag.
"How lovely!" I said. "Would you like a cup of tea, Virus? I'll just put the kettle on." I disappeared into the kitchen, locked the door and sat down on the pile of wellies to regain my composure.
When I had recovered enough to set a tray with teapot, cups, milk and a large plate of mince pies, I found Virus, sitting in my armchair, chatting aimiably with Minnie. I noticed that he had taken his shoes and socks off, and placed them neatly by his chair. I also noticed that he had taken his sunglasses off. His eyes glowed green in the gloom of the darkening sitting room.
"Tea, Virus?" I asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. "Er. Vincent. Vincent Russell Dunwich. Mr Dunwich?" How was I supposed to address him, I wondered. He's my great-grandson, is over seventy years old, yet he looks my age, dresses like a teenager and talks like nothing I have ever heard even in my most cheese-inspired dreams.
[To be continued]
I glanced at Minnie. She was busy headbanging with her eyes fixed on her drum kit and so hadn't noticed a thing. No clues there as to how to respond to this intruder.
I looked at the man more closely. Purple, black and white stripey hair. Diamond nose stud. Age....difficult to tell. I felt I should know who he was. There was a tantalising sense of familiarity about him.
"Hey, Great-Grandma!" he said. "Biocheck!"
He extended his left hand. I looked at it dubiously. The fingertips were a matt, metallic blue.
"How do you do?" replied my mouth on autopilot. My right hand extended by its own volition towards my unexpected visitor.
The man rolled his eyes. "Biocheck, Great-aunt Minnie!" he yelled. Minnie nodded, extended her left hand, and they performed a well-practised finger dance together. I inferred that James has already taken her to visit her family in the twenty-second century.
"You must be Virus," I said, suddenly feeling old.
James appeared from behind his grandson. "Virus helped me bring your present in," he said, nodding towards the guitar case / body bag.
"How lovely!" I said. "Would you like a cup of tea, Virus? I'll just put the kettle on." I disappeared into the kitchen, locked the door and sat down on the pile of wellies to regain my composure.
When I had recovered enough to set a tray with teapot, cups, milk and a large plate of mince pies, I found Virus, sitting in my armchair, chatting aimiably with Minnie. I noticed that he had taken his shoes and socks off, and placed them neatly by his chair. I also noticed that he had taken his sunglasses off. His eyes glowed green in the gloom of the darkening sitting room.
"Tea, Virus?" I asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. "Er. Vincent. Vincent Russell Dunwich. Mr Dunwich?" How was I supposed to address him, I wondered. He's my great-grandson, is over seventy years old, yet he looks my age, dresses like a teenager and talks like nothing I have ever heard even in my most cheese-inspired dreams.
[To be continued]
Saturday 26 December 2009
Christmas Day Part 1
Well, THAT was a Christmas that we won't forget in a hurry!
The children had set up a trip-wire to catch Father Christmas. Charlie used some very expressive language when he fell over it, which fortunately failed to wake the children.
On Christmas morning we were woken at 7:00 am to the strains of Slade’s "Merry Christmas" played at top volume through a loudspeaker system that James had rigged up. As it happens I am an early riser by nature. Charlie isn’t, so the children learned a few more colourful expressions. I got up and made the breakfast.
After breakfast we all sat down and opened our presents around the tree. James had a new webcam, which he was very pleased with and he spent much of the morning installing it on his computer. It appears to be compatible with both Skype and Ouija for Windows.
Minnie had an electronic drum kit. I noted with satisfaction that it has both a volume control and an earphone socket. She can be loud without disturbing the neighbours.
Charlie got a variable speed jiggery-poker. This is apparently a very useful bit of kit when one is building a dalek. You need it for getting the eyestalks aligned properly or something. He tried to explain but I made an excuse and went to prod the Brussels Sprouts.
I got a new hard-drive (I had filled up the old one with all audio books from librivox.org) and a Geek’s Kitchen Apron. It has twenty-seven pockets for different utensils, and a built-in jam thermometer, timer and calorie counter. James claims that Steven Hawking has one. I doubt that, but I’m prepared to believe that Professor Hawking’s mother has one.
Harry the Geek came round, played with all the children’s presents, ate Christmas lunch with us and then disappeared with Charlie to discuss eyestalks and try out the jiggery-poker. James, who had been watching the snow with gloom all week, observed with delight that it had melted, and disappeared in the direction of his workshop. Minnie settled down to bang and crash silently along with "Queen’s Greatest Hits".
I settled down on the sofa to listen to some LingQ Japanese lessons.
(Continued tomorrow)
Friday 25 December 2009
Thursday 17 December 2009
The Dunwich Family Christmas Letter
The Dunwich Digest: or What We Did in 2009
by Charlie Dunwich
2009 was a great year for the Dunwich family. No-one was arrested, sectioned or served with an ASBO which was quite an achievement for us!
New Year was a sad event, marked as it was by Grandpa's passing. He is still in regular contact with us, however, and seems to be enjoying his "retirement" from the world. We hear that he has enrolled on a degree course with the Open University! Nice to hear they have changed their policies on admitting post-living students.
Mary is keeping herself busy with all her LingQ activities. As well as studying German and Russian, she tells me she has started on Japanese, Celtic and Whale. One of these is probably a joke but I'm not sure which.
She also keeps busy chatting with all her students over the internet. She seems to get a lot of fun out of helping people learn English, and either she is a good tutor or people enjoy her tall stories, because they keep coming back for more.
James turned 12 this year and is now enjoying "Big School". Apart from a detention which he got for walking in circles round a dustbin (this contravenes Health and Safety regulations, we were told), he has been working hard and keeping out of trouble. He has also been keeping busy in his spare time this year, although since he built himself a working space-time machine "time" has become a very flexible concept for us. I don't suppose he tells us about a quarter of the places he visits and the people he meets! We do know that he met Alexander Graham Bell in Boston in 1876, as he recorded the first words uttered into a telephone, and gave them to Mary for a ringtone. He's as thoughtful as ever.
James has also made several trips into the twenty-second century this autumn, and has met his grandson. "Virus" (short for Vincent Rufus 812372-MD-@#Y Dunwich) is a very interesting character and he and James are like twin souls. James has learned a lot about Britain in the twenty-second century, which is sure to come in useful in his school work this year! Virus is helping him with his science project, but James refuses to give us any details because it's a "surprise". If James' former science projects are anything to go by, it won't be home-made bath salts!
Minnie turned eight this year. She has been doing very well at school and received only one suspension and a formal written warning, due to her home-made gunpowder. Fortunately she didn't get the mixture right and it didn't explode so much as hiss and fizzle and make a very nasty smell in the music room. As Minnie is one of the school's keenest guitar students, she was most affected by the fumes and ended up being sick in the school piano. That should teach her to weigh ingredients out more carefully!
I have been very productive this year too. I have continued my work on Badger Protection in the County (I've been shortlisted for the national "Badger Minder" Award, which is quite a feather in my cap!) In my spare time I have been making a Dalek. My friend and colleague Harry the Geek, who has made good progress with his mental health issues since was sectioned early in the year, has been very helpful. Harry is an electronics genius, and I am getting the hang of moulding plaster, fibre glass and (where necessary) cheese, so the work is coming along very well. We hope to have it finished in time for the Dusty Mouldings Summer Festival.
Finally, no Christmas letter would be complete without a word about our pets. Dodgson is very well. He is very fit, thanks to the regular walks the children take him on! I was worried that the sight of a dodo on a lead might cause comment in the neighbourhood, but Mary has managed to convince the neighbours that he in a Madagascan Racing Turkey. Besides, the children mostly exercise him in the grounds of the local psychiatric hospital, where the residents are used to such sights.
For his birthday James was given a hamster. Bytes is a Syrian cream female and very tame. I haven't seen her for a while, I believe she is living free range under James' bed. He assures me he cleans her out regularly every week, straight after cleaning out the dodo pen.
Hoping you and your family are all well, sane and happy,
Wishing you all the very best for 2010,
Charlie, Mary, James, Minnie, Dodgson and Bytes (wherever she is).
Tuesday 15 December 2009
A new addition to the family
It was one o'clock sharp when my son and his girlfriend came arrived at the back door. As I was busy scolding Charlie for showing up covered in plaster dust, I didn't pay much attention to James and Kate until I had sat down and started to eat. James and Kate tucked into their pizzas like kids who haven't eaten a square meal in hours.
"Didn't you have your picnic?" I asked.
"That was HOURS ago," answered James through a mouthful of Seven Cheeses Hot 'n Greasy.
I looked more closely at the pair. They looked tired, flushed and smug. Ah, first love, I thought. Then I looked more closely. They weren't so much flushed as....
"Sunburn?" I wondered aloud. "And your hair....it's not wet! That's odd...."
"It was summer where we went," answered James, helping himself to potato salad.
"Where did you go?" I asked, wondering if I would like the answer.
"2130," answered James after a hurried consultation with Kate.
"21:30?" I asked, glancing at the kitchen clock.
"No, the YEAR 2130," replied James with patronising calm. "It turns out the Dunwiches are still living in Dusty Mouldings. We met my grandson."
I gaped. Charlie helped himself to the tomato salad.
"He's really nice!" contributed Kate, handing me her mobile phone. I stared, bewildered, at the picture of a man. He could have been in his early forties and led an exciting youth, or in his fifties and taking good care of himself. It was hard to tell, especially with the wrap-around sunglasses, the purple, black and white striped spiky hair and the diamond nose-stud.
"Virus!" said Kate.
"Really?" I asked, still staring. James rolled his eyes. Kate smirked.
"That's his NAME," replied James in a still more patronising tone. I sighed and handed the mobile to Charlie.
It takes a lot to surprise my husband. He didn't even pause in his chewing as he studied his great-grandson's image.
"How old is he?" asked Charlie, while my brain tried to reboot.
James shrugged.
"74," answered Kate.
"He looks good on it!" said Charlie.
"He's had most of his organs replaced," said Kate with the authority of one who is top of her year in science. "Eyes, heart, liver, spleen and fingertips. He said he should live to about 300 if he avoids celery and hamsters."
"Is that your family tree project sorted out?" asked Charlie. James nodded. "And the science project too!" ha replied smugly. "Virus is going to help us with it. He's got some really cool tools. We spent all evening in his workshop."
Kate yawned. I glanced at her watch. It said "10:00".
"Why don't you two have an afternoon nap?" I suggested, my brain finally coming back online. "Kate can crash out on Minnie's bed. You'll never make it through to bedtime otherwise. Oh, and there's some aftersun cream in the bathroom cupboard. I should put some on on that sunburn if I were you."
James and Kate nodded, both yawning now, stood up rather unsteadily and made their way upstairs.
I looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at me, shrugged, and went to fetch the ice cream.
"Didn't you have your picnic?" I asked.
"That was HOURS ago," answered James through a mouthful of Seven Cheeses Hot 'n Greasy.
I looked more closely at the pair. They looked tired, flushed and smug. Ah, first love, I thought. Then I looked more closely. They weren't so much flushed as....
"Sunburn?" I wondered aloud. "And your hair....it's not wet! That's odd...."
"It was summer where we went," answered James, helping himself to potato salad.
"Where did you go?" I asked, wondering if I would like the answer.
"2130," answered James after a hurried consultation with Kate.
"21:30?" I asked, glancing at the kitchen clock.
"No, the YEAR 2130," replied James with patronising calm. "It turns out the Dunwiches are still living in Dusty Mouldings. We met my grandson."
I gaped. Charlie helped himself to the tomato salad.
"He's really nice!" contributed Kate, handing me her mobile phone. I stared, bewildered, at the picture of a man. He could have been in his early forties and led an exciting youth, or in his fifties and taking good care of himself. It was hard to tell, especially with the wrap-around sunglasses, the purple, black and white striped spiky hair and the diamond nose-stud.
"Virus!" said Kate.
"Really?" I asked, still staring. James rolled his eyes. Kate smirked.
"That's his NAME," replied James in a still more patronising tone. I sighed and handed the mobile to Charlie.
It takes a lot to surprise my husband. He didn't even pause in his chewing as he studied his great-grandson's image.
"How old is he?" asked Charlie, while my brain tried to reboot.
James shrugged.
"74," answered Kate.
"He looks good on it!" said Charlie.
"He's had most of his organs replaced," said Kate with the authority of one who is top of her year in science. "Eyes, heart, liver, spleen and fingertips. He said he should live to about 300 if he avoids celery and hamsters."
"Is that your family tree project sorted out?" asked Charlie. James nodded. "And the science project too!" ha replied smugly. "Virus is going to help us with it. He's got some really cool tools. We spent all evening in his workshop."
Kate yawned. I glanced at her watch. It said "10:00".
"Why don't you two have an afternoon nap?" I suggested, my brain finally coming back online. "Kate can crash out on Minnie's bed. You'll never make it through to bedtime otherwise. Oh, and there's some aftersun cream in the bathroom cupboard. I should put some on on that sunburn if I were you."
James and Kate nodded, both yawning now, stood up rather unsteadily and made their way upstairs.
I looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at me, shrugged, and went to fetch the ice cream.
Sunday 13 December 2009
Learning kanji
As both the regular readers of this blog will be aware, I have been learning Japanese and finding it hard. After much careful analysis, I have reached the conclusion that it is hard to learn because it is written all funny.
Specifically, beginners' lessons are written very funny indeed, in romaji (i.e. in latin characters). That makes the words moderately easy to pronounce but hard to look up in the dictionary, because their are so many homophones that you are bound to choose the wrong meaning half the time. Lessons written in kana are easier to pronounce but you still have the homophone problem, and you have the additional problem that Japanese people don't put spaces in between words.
But we aren't MEANT to read Japanese in kana, anymore than we are meant to read knitting patterns. Japanese people use about 2,000 kanji, which are sort of pictorial clues to what the word means. Pepper your writing with kanji, and it becomes easy to read, understand and look up in dictionaries. It doesn't matter anymore that there are not spaces between words, because the hiragana that's left in acts as a skeleton to show you where the words start and end. You just need to learn how to recognise, pronounce and translate 2,000 assorted squiggles. Not my idea of fun, but if other language obsessives can do it, so can I.
The advice I have had from other Japanese learners is: buy a book, make some flashcards, download a trainer program. I'm not going to do any of those. I use LingQ, you see. It's not that I love LingQ and can't bear to be unfaithful to it (I'm sure LingQ is broadminded enough to understand if I visit other websites from time to time), it's just that other websites have a nasty habit of not being fully compatible with LingQ. And this is irritating, because I really do love LingQ.
So this is what I'm doing. I have found a list of the most common kanji at http://nihongo.isc.chubu.ac.jp/wwkanji2k/frequencyTable.html. I am importing them, ten at a time, into LingQ using the "add a list of terms" function on the vocabulary page. Then I edit each new lingQ, adding the most common pronunciation (and, if I feel like it, a mnemonic) as the hint, the most common meaning as the meaning, and tagging as "kanji". It's a slow job, admittedly. If only we could import a data file then it would save editing 2,000 individual LingQs. Still, I wouldn't call it difficult. I can do it while watching Basil Brush, drinking a cup of tea and avoiding doing the washing up. I spend a lot of time avoiding the washing up.
Now I can do my own kanji flashcard drills, and LingQ keeps track of what I'm learning and what I've learned. I can drill English -> Japanese or Japanese -> English, shuffle the cards, use the pronunciation as a hint to the meaning or not. It's as good as any online kanji drill I've found and it also has the nice bonus that the kanji I'm learning will show up in yellow in the lessons I study, while the kanji I've learned will show up with an underline. If I want to be reminded of the meaning I can do a mouseover on the kanji in the lesson.
Now I'm just wondering, why do other people make learning kanji so hard?
Specifically, beginners' lessons are written very funny indeed, in romaji (i.e. in latin characters). That makes the words moderately easy to pronounce but hard to look up in the dictionary, because their are so many homophones that you are bound to choose the wrong meaning half the time. Lessons written in kana are easier to pronounce but you still have the homophone problem, and you have the additional problem that Japanese people don't put spaces in between words.
But we aren't MEANT to read Japanese in kana, anymore than we are meant to read knitting patterns. Japanese people use about 2,000 kanji, which are sort of pictorial clues to what the word means. Pepper your writing with kanji, and it becomes easy to read, understand and look up in dictionaries. It doesn't matter anymore that there are not spaces between words, because the hiragana that's left in acts as a skeleton to show you where the words start and end. You just need to learn how to recognise, pronounce and translate 2,000 assorted squiggles. Not my idea of fun, but if other language obsessives can do it, so can I.
The advice I have had from other Japanese learners is: buy a book, make some flashcards, download a trainer program. I'm not going to do any of those. I use LingQ, you see. It's not that I love LingQ and can't bear to be unfaithful to it (I'm sure LingQ is broadminded enough to understand if I visit other websites from time to time), it's just that other websites have a nasty habit of not being fully compatible with LingQ. And this is irritating, because I really do love LingQ.
So this is what I'm doing. I have found a list of the most common kanji at http://nihongo.isc.chubu.ac.jp/wwkanji2k/frequencyTable.html. I am importing them, ten at a time, into LingQ using the "add a list of terms" function on the vocabulary page. Then I edit each new lingQ, adding the most common pronunciation (and, if I feel like it, a mnemonic) as the hint, the most common meaning as the meaning, and tagging as "kanji". It's a slow job, admittedly. If only we could import a data file then it would save editing 2,000 individual LingQs. Still, I wouldn't call it difficult. I can do it while watching Basil Brush, drinking a cup of tea and avoiding doing the washing up. I spend a lot of time avoiding the washing up.
Now I can do my own kanji flashcard drills, and LingQ keeps track of what I'm learning and what I've learned. I can drill English -> Japanese or Japanese -> English, shuffle the cards, use the pronunciation as a hint to the meaning or not. It's as good as any online kanji drill I've found and it also has the nice bonus that the kanji I'm learning will show up in yellow in the lessons I study, while the kanji I've learned will show up with an underline. If I want to be reminded of the meaning I can do a mouseover on the kanji in the lesson.
Now I'm just wondering, why do other people make learning kanji so hard?
Friday 11 December 2009
Easy conversations (Japanese): Where are you from?
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Hanna
Kyou wa tenki ga ii desu ne.
きょう は てんき が いい です ね。
今日 は 天気 が いいです ね。
Sachiko
Chotto samui desu kedo, yoku hareteite, ii o-tenki desu ne.
ちょっと さむい です けど、よく はれていて、いい おてんき です ね。
ちょっと 寒い です けど、よく 晴れていて、いい お天気 ですね。
Amerika no fuyu mo samui desu ka？
アメリカ の ふゆ も さむい です か？
アメリカ の 冬 も 寒い です か？
Hanna
Ee, samui desu.
えぇ、さむい です。
えぇ、寒い です。
Soreni, yoku ame ga furimasu.
それに、よく あめ が ふります。
それに、よく 雨 が 降ります。
Sachiko
Hanna-san no shusshin wa amerika no dochira desu ka？
Hanna さん の しゅっしん は アメリカ の どちら です か？
Hannaさん の 出身 は アメリカ の どちら です か？
Hanna
Watashi wa Washinton-shuu no Takoma shusshin desu.
わたし は ワシントン しゅう の タコマ しゅっしん です。
私 は ワシントン 州 の タコマ 出身 です。
Sachiko
Washinton-shuu wa higashi-kaigan desu ka？
ワシントン しゅう は ひがしかいがん です か？
ワシントン 州 は 東海岸 です か？
Hanna
Iie, nishi-kaigan desu.
いいえ、にしかいがん です。
いいえ、西海岸 です。
Nishi-kaigan no kita no hou ni arimasu.
にしかいがん の きた の ほう に あります。
西海岸 の 北 の ほう に あります。
Sachiko
Takoma wa doko ni arimasu ka？
タコマ は どこ に あります か？
タコマ は どこ に ありますか？
Hanna
Takoma wa Shiatoru no minami ni arimasu.
タコマ は シアトル の みなみ に あります。
タコマ は シアトル の 南 に あります。
Shiatoru kara kuruma de 40-pun kurai desu.
シアトル から くるま で 40ぷん くらい です。
シアトル から 車 で 40分 くらい です。
Reading Japanese:
I've tried taking one of the lessons from the "Easy conversation" collection in the LingQ Japanese library, putting the romaji, hiragana and kanji versions together and adding some formatting. I've found this, although time-consuming, really takes the strain out of reading the lesson.
Get to know each other » |
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Hanna
Sachiko-san wa kono daigaku no gakusei desu ka？
さちこ さん は この だいがく の がくせい です か？
さちこ さん は この 大学 の 学生 です か？
Sachiko
Hai, sou desu.
はい、そう です。
はい、そう です。
Hanna-san wa？
Hannaさん は？
Hannaさん は？
Hanna
Watashi mo desu.
わたし も です。
私も です。
1-nen-kan, kono daigaku de Nihongo no benkyou o shimasu.
1ねんかん、この だいがく で にほんご の べんきょう を します。
1年間、この 大学 で 日本語 の 勉強 を します。
Sachiko
Sou desu ka.
そう ですか。
そう ですか。
Nihon no koto de wakaranai koto ga attara nandemo kiite kudasai ne.
にほんの こと で わ からない こと が あったら なんでも きいてくださいね。
日本 の こと で わからない こと が あったら 何でも 聞いてくださいね。
Hanna
Doumo arigatou gozaimasu.
どうも ありがとう ございます。
どうも ありがとう ございます。
Sachiko-san wa nan-nen-sei desu ka？
さちこ さん は なんねんせい です か？
さちこ さん は 何年生 です か？
Sachiko
Watashi wa 3-nen-sei desu.
わたし は 3ねんせい です。
わたし は 3年生 です。
Hanna
Jaa, issho desu ne.
じゃぁ、いっしょ ですね。
じゃぁ、一緒 ですね。
Watashi mo 3-nen-sei desu.
わたし も 3ねんせい です。
私 も 3年生 です。
Thursday 10 December 2009
Why is Japanese so hard?
Japanese is God's way of telling me I don't know everything.
I've been struggling to learn it all year, and still haven't got through "Who is She?" A lesser woman would have given up. A greater woman would, admittedly, have made more headway. Six months of study and I can only just read the words "I don't speak Japanese".
Why has it been so hard? I can only suggest the following reasons:
1) I have little free time and many distractions
2) It is written all funny
3) The grammar is odd
4) I have been taught all my life that the Japanese are very strange indeed, impossible to understand and that it is safer not to try.
I have discovered that number 4, at least, is wrong. The Japanese are no stranger than the English, WHO ARE NOT STRANGE AT ALL (I'm glad we've cleared that up).
It IS written all funny and that alone nearly scuppered me. I would have liked to have spent the first 6 months just studying romaji, but I didn't have enough beginner texts and couldn't find a good dictionary keyed on romaji. I had to start with unspaced hiragana, which did my head in. I couldn't work out where one word stopped and another word started, so I couldn't even look words up sensibly. The funny thing about Japanese is, if you take a random two or three syllables out of a sentence and look them up, you get a definition like "The Prime Minister's favourite earwig". Probably this is also true for English. I must try it some time.
Anyway, LingQ has now included a function to add spaces to hiragana. It's not perfect, but it's a whole lot better. Also the "mouse over to see hints" function helps a lot. You don't have to be able to read a text any more, just run your mouse over it until you find a definition you like the look of, and then you can save it as a LingQ. You can flashcard and learn LingQs before you learn to read hiragana, and it's not a bad way of learning to read hiragana.
The grammar IS very different from English. There isn't a lot anyone can do about that, except to stop trying to understand the meaning of sentences when they first encounter them. And that, in my opinion, is the problem with the beginner story "Who is She?" Namely, it has a plot. This implies that you should understand it. Personally I would have done a lot better with beginner material equivalent to baby talk, like this (but in Japanese, obviously):
Hello Mr Cat!
cat
a cat
This is a cat.
Is this a cat?
Yes it is a cat!
It is my cat.
Hello Mr. cat!
That has 9 unique words, which is enough for a flashcard session for a beginner in an unknown script. There is little difficulty in working out where one word finishes and the next starts, or which is the verb. It only needs to be combined with a picture of a cat and the general meaning is instantly clear.
I know that there are some LingQers who would be patronised by such "baby content", but no-one is forcing them to study "Hello Mr. Cat!"
A regular topic of conversation on the LingQ forum is "why doesn't LingQ attract professional linguists and scare off Joe Average?" I suggest that it's because we expect Joe Average to be Joe "I'm not going to be put off by not being able to decipher a single word of lesson 1".
Enough ranting. I'm off to look the word "cat" up in Japanese. Six months and I still haven't learned it. Tchah!
I've been struggling to learn it all year, and still haven't got through "Who is She?" A lesser woman would have given up. A greater woman would, admittedly, have made more headway. Six months of study and I can only just read the words "I don't speak Japanese".
Why has it been so hard? I can only suggest the following reasons:
1) I have little free time and many distractions
2) It is written all funny
3) The grammar is odd
4) I have been taught all my life that the Japanese are very strange indeed, impossible to understand and that it is safer not to try.
I have discovered that number 4, at least, is wrong. The Japanese are no stranger than the English, WHO ARE NOT STRANGE AT ALL (I'm glad we've cleared that up).
It IS written all funny and that alone nearly scuppered me. I would have liked to have spent the first 6 months just studying romaji, but I didn't have enough beginner texts and couldn't find a good dictionary keyed on romaji. I had to start with unspaced hiragana, which did my head in. I couldn't work out where one word stopped and another word started, so I couldn't even look words up sensibly. The funny thing about Japanese is, if you take a random two or three syllables out of a sentence and look them up, you get a definition like "The Prime Minister's favourite earwig". Probably this is also true for English. I must try it some time.
Anyway, LingQ has now included a function to add spaces to hiragana. It's not perfect, but it's a whole lot better. Also the "mouse over to see hints" function helps a lot. You don't have to be able to read a text any more, just run your mouse over it until you find a definition you like the look of, and then you can save it as a LingQ. You can flashcard and learn LingQs before you learn to read hiragana, and it's not a bad way of learning to read hiragana.
The grammar IS very different from English. There isn't a lot anyone can do about that, except to stop trying to understand the meaning of sentences when they first encounter them. And that, in my opinion, is the problem with the beginner story "Who is She?" Namely, it has a plot. This implies that you should understand it. Personally I would have done a lot better with beginner material equivalent to baby talk, like this (but in Japanese, obviously):
Hello Mr Cat!
cat
a cat
This is a cat.
Is this a cat?
Yes it is a cat!
It is my cat.
Hello Mr. cat!
That has 9 unique words, which is enough for a flashcard session for a beginner in an unknown script. There is little difficulty in working out where one word finishes and the next starts, or which is the verb. It only needs to be combined with a picture of a cat and the general meaning is instantly clear.
I know that there are some LingQers who would be patronised by such "baby content", but no-one is forcing them to study "Hello Mr. Cat!"
A regular topic of conversation on the LingQ forum is "why doesn't LingQ attract professional linguists and scare off Joe Average?" I suggest that it's because we expect Joe Average to be Joe "I'm not going to be put off by not being able to decipher a single word of lesson 1".
Enough ranting. I'm off to look the word "cat" up in Japanese. Six months and I still haven't learned it. Tchah!
Monday 7 December 2009
James plans a picnic
As both the regular readers of my blog should already know, my daughter is a Hedgehog Rampant. The Hedgehogs Rampant are the youngest section of the Knights Hospitalier, an ancient order of warrior healers who in mediaeval times sliced up their enemies and bandaged up their allies. The uniform is a tunic of knitted chain mail and a shirt with a cross on it. Accessories include a wooden sword and a first aid kit.
Minnie's latest badge was for Helping an Elderly person. I am not very pleased about this one. To earn it Minnie spent two afternoons in Grandad's shed, making illegal and suicidally dangerous fireworks with him. Grandad always likes to slip a few fireworks in the Boys Brigade guy before it goes on the bonfire. He says the guy should be given the chance to fight back. I suppose the ability to make gunpowder is a skill that Minnie could find useful later in life. She certainly will have a headstart in chemistry lessons when she gets to Big School.
On Sunday morning I sewing her badge onto her Hedgehogs' Rampant uniform while listening to LingQ lessons. Suddenly the doorbell played a startling rendition of "Jake the Peg".
It turned out to be Kate, James' girlfriend. She had brought with her a bottle of ginger beer and an enormous bag of crisps. James appeared with a sandwich box.
"We're going on a picnic," James announced, blushing beneath his freckles.
"But I'm making you pizzas for lunch!" I wailed.
"Oh, we'll be back by then!" he reassured me.
I looked at Kate and noticed that she was dripping wet. I looked out of the window.
"In that rain?" I asked. "Are you mad? Let me rephrase that. Are YOU mad, Kate?" James and Kate shrugged in unison.
"We're taking Dodgson for a walk," James said, as though that was a good enough reason for a picnic in freezing rain. "I've got his lead and his coat!" He waved a brown dog lead and a little tartan coat at me.
"If that dodo catches a cold, YOU can nurse him!" I scolded. "And if Kate catches a cold, YOU can explain it to her parents."
James nodded absent-mindedly, wriggled his feet into his trainers and led Kate out of the back door. Later I realised he hadn't taken his jacket. If he catches cold, I shall make Minnie nurse him. That'll teach him a lesson, and maybe earn her another badge at the same time.
Minnie's latest badge was for Helping an Elderly person. I am not very pleased about this one. To earn it Minnie spent two afternoons in Grandad's shed, making illegal and suicidally dangerous fireworks with him. Grandad always likes to slip a few fireworks in the Boys Brigade guy before it goes on the bonfire. He says the guy should be given the chance to fight back. I suppose the ability to make gunpowder is a skill that Minnie could find useful later in life. She certainly will have a headstart in chemistry lessons when she gets to Big School.
On Sunday morning I sewing her badge onto her Hedgehogs' Rampant uniform while listening to LingQ lessons. Suddenly the doorbell played a startling rendition of "Jake the Peg".
It turned out to be Kate, James' girlfriend. She had brought with her a bottle of ginger beer and an enormous bag of crisps. James appeared with a sandwich box.
"We're going on a picnic," James announced, blushing beneath his freckles.
"But I'm making you pizzas for lunch!" I wailed.
"Oh, we'll be back by then!" he reassured me.
I looked at Kate and noticed that she was dripping wet. I looked out of the window.
"In that rain?" I asked. "Are you mad? Let me rephrase that. Are YOU mad, Kate?" James and Kate shrugged in unison.
"We're taking Dodgson for a walk," James said, as though that was a good enough reason for a picnic in freezing rain. "I've got his lead and his coat!" He waved a brown dog lead and a little tartan coat at me.
"If that dodo catches a cold, YOU can nurse him!" I scolded. "And if Kate catches a cold, YOU can explain it to her parents."
James nodded absent-mindedly, wriggled his feet into his trainers and led Kate out of the back door. Later I realised he hadn't taken his jacket. If he catches cold, I shall make Minnie nurse him. That'll teach him a lesson, and maybe earn her another badge at the same time.
Friday 4 December 2009
Family matters
James has a girlfriend! He has been keeping very quiet about this. I only found out because his friend Stanley told his little sister, who told mum, who told me. I decided that this was something I ought to know about, and as I haven't seen James much lately I set an ambush (using a signed photograph of David Tennant for bait) and interrogated him about her.
It turns out that he has been "going steady" with Kate from his science class, for four weeks now. Kate is Cool. Kate has ginger hair and freckles. Kate has three older brothers. Kate has "got" Facebook. Kate's favourite subject is biology. Kate knows six different ways to disable an opponent (seven if the opponent is male). Clearly, James is very taken with Kate.
Kate is, apparently, also very taken with James. As the strangest boy in school James has a certain cult status, and the girls are apparently fighting over him. He takes her out with him on walkies with Dodgson in the grounds of the psychiatric hospital. Kate thinks that James is Cool because he owns the twenty-first century's only dodo. Presumably he has told her about his space-time travel module. I really hope he hasn't told her that he has got OuiJa, and an address book full post-living etherbuddies. I don't want him to frighten her off. It makes such a nice change to see him hanging out people his own age - and living ones at that.
I also asked him how his homework was going. He said he was working on his family tree. I made him show it to me. On a piece of A4 paper he had drawn a diagram showing himself, his little sister and his parents.
"Is that it?" I asked. James shrugged. "What about your grandparents?"
"Okay," he conceded. "I suppose I could add them in too."
"What about your great-grandparents?" I continued. "What about great-aunt Fanny?"
"Great-aunt who?" asked James.
I tried to think of a way to describe my aunt that didn't sound callous or cynical. I didn't manage it.
"Never mind," I answered at last. "You won't remember her, and she's not a direct relative. I should leave her out if I were you. And I don't, I really don't want you OuiJa'ing her. Stick to the Dunwich side of the family. Your father's family are all dotty, but they're rather sweet."
At least the Dunwiches haven't done anything that would look disturbing in a school project, I thought to myself. I want so badly to keep my children's hearts wrapped up warm and snug and kept well away from the cold spot that still lurks inside me. Sometimes family memories are best left unshared.
It turns out that he has been "going steady" with Kate from his science class, for four weeks now. Kate is Cool. Kate has ginger hair and freckles. Kate has three older brothers. Kate has "got" Facebook. Kate's favourite subject is biology. Kate knows six different ways to disable an opponent (seven if the opponent is male). Clearly, James is very taken with Kate.
Kate is, apparently, also very taken with James. As the strangest boy in school James has a certain cult status, and the girls are apparently fighting over him. He takes her out with him on walkies with Dodgson in the grounds of the psychiatric hospital. Kate thinks that James is Cool because he owns the twenty-first century's only dodo. Presumably he has told her about his space-time travel module. I really hope he hasn't told her that he has got OuiJa, and an address book full post-living etherbuddies. I don't want him to frighten her off. It makes such a nice change to see him hanging out people his own age - and living ones at that.
I also asked him how his homework was going. He said he was working on his family tree. I made him show it to me. On a piece of A4 paper he had drawn a diagram showing himself, his little sister and his parents.
"Is that it?" I asked. James shrugged. "What about your grandparents?"
"Okay," he conceded. "I suppose I could add them in too."
"What about your great-grandparents?" I continued. "What about great-aunt Fanny?"
"Great-aunt who?" asked James.
I tried to think of a way to describe my aunt that didn't sound callous or cynical. I didn't manage it.
"Never mind," I answered at last. "You won't remember her, and she's not a direct relative. I should leave her out if I were you. And I don't, I really don't want you OuiJa'ing her. Stick to the Dunwich side of the family. Your father's family are all dotty, but they're rather sweet."
At least the Dunwiches haven't done anything that would look disturbing in a school project, I thought to myself. I want so badly to keep my children's hearts wrapped up warm and snug and kept well away from the cold spot that still lurks inside me. Sometimes family memories are best left unshared.
Thursday 3 December 2009
Study Opportunities for the Post-living Learner
It is time for me to take an interest in James' homework. Last week's Parents' Evening had been humiliating even by my standards. Under pressure from James' form teacher (who is no fool, unfortunately for me) I had been forced to admit that I had no idea if James had started any of his project work yet. Mr Al Khali had suggested very politely that, in the interests of Health and Safety, James might need adult supervision. As there is no appeal against Health and Safety regulation, I went on a hunt for James.
I found him lying under his bed reading “This Was Your Life: biographies of 1,000 really interesting Dead People”.
"Have you started your project work yet?" I asked him.
"Mmmph," he answered. "I've picked a famous historical person to research."
He handed me the book. I looked at the open page.
"Francis Harry Compton Crick," I read. "1916 - 2004. Co-discoverer of the structure of the DNA molecule."
"He found the Secret of Life," replied James smugly.
"Men say a lot of daft things in the pub," I countered. I looked more closely at the pencil notes in the margin. I read a OuiJa for Windows user name. Oh dear.
"I hope you haven't been bothering Doctor Crick," I said sternly.
"He's really nice!" answered James defensively. "He's answered all my questions and told me a lot of things I didn't know. I think he gets a bit bored Over There."
"Well, show a bit of respect," I fretted. "Just because he's d... er, retired, it doesn't mean his time isn't valuable. He may be very busy." Doing what, I didn't know and didn't like to think about. I've never been very comfortable with the idea of death, and the fact that my son has provided me with compelling evidence of an Afterlife hasn't made me feel a lot better about it.
James nodded absent-mindedly. "Grandpa says hello!" he added as an afterthought.
My stomach lurched. I'd had an uncomfortable relationship with my father when he was alive. I wasn't sure how to handle post-mortem communications from him.
"H-how's he doing?" I managed finally. "Is he keeping busy?" I've heard the worst part of life after death is dealing with all the unaccustomed leisure time.
"He's taking a course in Philosophy," James answered.
"How?" I wondered.
"Distance Learning with the Open University," my son replied.
Blimey, the O.U. are getting really inclusive these days. I suppose even adacemics have to move with the times and embrace the Information Era.
"How's he paying for it?" I asked. As far as I knew, there was no provision in his will for post-mortem expenditure. Once you are buried, you tradionally stopped incurring expenses. That's why they cancel your credit cards when you die.
"Dunno," shruggged James. The world of finances, beyond saving up for his next Doctor Who figure or piece of modelling cheese, are still a mystery to James.
I shrugged back, and said "yeah, whatever!" for good measure (I like to think I can communicate with the young) and went to put the kettle on.
I found him lying under his bed reading “This Was Your Life: biographies of 1,000 really interesting Dead People”.
"Have you started your project work yet?" I asked him.
"Mmmph," he answered. "I've picked a famous historical person to research."
He handed me the book. I looked at the open page.
"Francis Harry Compton Crick," I read. "1916 - 2004. Co-discoverer of the structure of the DNA molecule."
"He found the Secret of Life," replied James smugly.
"Men say a lot of daft things in the pub," I countered. I looked more closely at the pencil notes in the margin. I read a OuiJa for Windows user name. Oh dear.
"I hope you haven't been bothering Doctor Crick," I said sternly.
"He's really nice!" answered James defensively. "He's answered all my questions and told me a lot of things I didn't know. I think he gets a bit bored Over There."
"Well, show a bit of respect," I fretted. "Just because he's d... er, retired, it doesn't mean his time isn't valuable. He may be very busy." Doing what, I didn't know and didn't like to think about. I've never been very comfortable with the idea of death, and the fact that my son has provided me with compelling evidence of an Afterlife hasn't made me feel a lot better about it.
James nodded absent-mindedly. "Grandpa says hello!" he added as an afterthought.
My stomach lurched. I'd had an uncomfortable relationship with my father when he was alive. I wasn't sure how to handle post-mortem communications from him.
"H-how's he doing?" I managed finally. "Is he keeping busy?" I've heard the worst part of life after death is dealing with all the unaccustomed leisure time.
"He's taking a course in Philosophy," James answered.
"How?" I wondered.
"Distance Learning with the Open University," my son replied.
Blimey, the O.U. are getting really inclusive these days. I suppose even adacemics have to move with the times and embrace the Information Era.
"How's he paying for it?" I asked. As far as I knew, there was no provision in his will for post-mortem expenditure. Once you are buried, you tradionally stopped incurring expenses. That's why they cancel your credit cards when you die.
"Dunno," shruggged James. The world of finances, beyond saving up for his next Doctor Who figure or piece of modelling cheese, are still a mystery to James.
I shrugged back, and said "yeah, whatever!" for good measure (I like to think I can communicate with the young) and went to put the kettle on.
Tuesday 1 December 2009
Yet More Slogans for LingQ
LingQ: for language nuts!
LingQ: it's not for softies!
A LingQ account is for life, not just til your next holiday in Majorca!
LingQ: because there is life beyond GCSE French!
LingQ: it's like a university course you can study in your pyjamas.
LingQ: for people who seriously love learning languages.
LingQ: for people who are serious about language learning
LingQ: serious about language learning.
LingQ: natural language learning
LingQ: We Love Languages, or
LingQ: We Live Languages
LingQ: Language Learning is Child's Play!
LingQ: Passionate about Languages
LingQ: Love Learning Languages Natuarally
LingQ: Love Learning Languages on-Line
Take a look at this Video Podcast for British English Learners: Luke's English Podcast
LingQ: it's not for softies!
A LingQ account is for life, not just til your next holiday in Majorca!
LingQ: because there is life beyond GCSE French!
LingQ: it's like a university course you can study in your pyjamas.
LingQ: for people who seriously love learning languages.
LingQ: for people who are serious about language learning
LingQ: serious about language learning.
LingQ: natural language learning
LingQ: We Love Languages, or
LingQ: We Live Languages
LingQ: Language Learning is Child's Play!
LingQ: Passionate about Languages
LingQ: Love Learning Languages Natuarally
LingQ: Love Learning Languages on-Line
Take a look at this Video Podcast for British English Learners: Luke's English Podcast
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