This is a city of gimps. Yesterday i walked for a couple of hours round the university, hunting places to post my ads – i passed three women on crutches and another couple of limpers, and someone with a strange gait – the latter will probably develop a proper limp within a few months, and the limpers will graduate onto crutches; the women on crutches will, i guess, take to wheelchairs.

Today i bought a (cheap) radio. i am memorising about 100 German words a day, and spending another hour a day on grammar, but i can’t pronounce the damn Bosche – hence, a radio. Perhaps it will help. Being in the country seems to help a great deal; the words stick easily in my memory, they seem familiar, already-known, as if just being here has opened a door in my mind. It’s also much easier to strike up a conversation with the Bosche than the spaghetti-benders. i spent three months in Italy without really improving my Italian, unable to get into a conversation; the Italians don’t seem to want to talk to anyone they don’t already know; the Bosche seem much more curious, friendly, less likely to rob you blind and leave you in a ditch sans a kidney. Though perhaps i should exempt my ex-employer from this glowing account. If i thought it strange to be headhunted, it seems stranger to sack me so quickly, even taking my quirks and outrages into account. i am unrancorous, though i wouldn’t recommend the school to other teachers, and i would vigorously dissuade anyone from trying to learn the idiocy that is “Business English” (an attempt to learn English and business at the same time).

i feel untroubled by my situation. i am supposed to be here at the moment; that is why the school hired me. i am not supposed to have a permanent job; that is why i was fired. Why i am meant to be here, i know not, perhaps it is my fate to become a gimp, or a raven.

Today i found a 1 Euro coin on the pavement; into my wallet it duly went. Riches.

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