Full English

Friday January 20th. Evening.

Did I mention today's pleasant but pointless meeting? Well, did I mention today's other pleasant but pointless meeting.

Here's the pitch: You're the owner of an english-themed bar in turkey. The front door is that of a phone box. The name is a refernce to a london-based fashion house that actually I've never heard of. Something Smith. You play sort-of english pop music, and serve more-or-less english style food and drink, to customers sitting at englishy looking chairs and tables. Englishy circa 1985, during an internationally transplanted Mardi Gras.

So, how about partitioning off part of your english bar, to make a classroom to teach...guess what language?

Here's the response from the owner - who is German, by the way: What an interesting idea. Though it would take a lot of building work. And I'm not sure about sound proofing. Or building permits. And I'm retiring soon, so it's not entirely my call. And did I mention I'm not exactly the owner as such, just a stand in for someone who can't be here, and he'd have to decide.

Ah well, there was a pleasant resteraunt on the way, situated right next to the ocean, and I got to ride there in the back seat, touching legs with the unfeasibly sexy Mustafa, who helped me grow my arabic. And no, that's not a euphemism.

Mustafa, who listened carefully to my advice to wait a year until deciding whether to get married. And promptly proposed to his very nice-sounding girlfriend the next day.

And after making me promise not to tell anyone about our conversation, and himself promising not to tell anyone Kapitano isn't entirely heterosexual...he went and told.

Was I that unreliable when I was 25? Probably, yes.

My beach has sand and pebbles. Their beach has great big wavebreaking stone blocks...and mountains with snow.

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