Well after the first unsuccessful lecture that everyone was thrown out of (even though i accidentally missed it anyway), I am afraid to say that the rest of the week went just as badly. That afternoon, all eleven of us arrived at a second year French-English translation class. Had we not opened our big mouths and told the stupid woman we were Erasmus students, we would have been absolutely fine, and would have quietly got on with our translations. But no. We all had to encourage poor Becks to go and tell the teacher 'what we were' (Erasmus students) and from her reaction you'd think it was some kind of disease! *Cue the look of terror and the immediate banishment from the class.* Eleven keen foreign students we were no more.
We then had the choice to try the next two version lessons or to go to the pub. No prizes for guessing where I went... to the pub. A few three euro pints of beer later it seemed a good idea to play a game of Guess Who with slobbery rizla on our foreheads. Never has such a strict version of said game been seen before! With whisky forfeits, double negatives, Alan Titchmarsh, Noddy, Nick Griffin, Gary Glitter and someone I can’t even pronounce in the mix, it was Matt who lost, not being able to get Dumbo, even knowing it was a cartoon elephant. Bless him!
After a tactical pasta box (take-away pasta is such a good shout), we all parted ways and I was left on the tram with a hysterical Lou giggling about God knows what to God knows who.
A much better end to such a ridiculous day.
No comments:
Post a Comment