I am aware I have been swanking a bit recently, but this is too good an opportunity to miss. Bob has been awarded the Modern Language prize at school. Astonishing news and something of an irony. To explain why I needed to scour around for two little stories I have related before – years ago when he was still at prep school – and copy them below:
Bob, in the car on the way back from school, discussing with his friend Ed, ( David Cameron’s godson as it happens ) the mock Common Entrance geography exam they had taken that afternoon.
“Ed, what is the capital of Russia by the way?”
“Don’t know Bob, sorry”
“Oh well” said Bob, “ I wrote Roulette. Not sure it’s right but it’s the only Russian word I know.”
So there you have the limits of both his Russian, his French, not to mention his Geography. But there was also this “cracker” a couple of years earlier:
I received from Bob’s French teacher a complaint about the standard of a bit of homework he had submitted. I immediately replied to her that we would give him a kick up the derriere. Oh what a wit I am. Her subsequent email is a gem and explains her obvious frustration with Bob’s attitude and approach.
Dear Mr Sandison,
Thank you so much for this prompt reply.
As you know, we all really have Bob's best interest at heart and how best
to help him.
I perceive him to be a bright boy and capable of much better than his most
recent homework which was, incidentally, late also. It grieved me too to see
his French books lying around in the cold outside today.
You WILL be able to see Bob's homework (hard copy) since he has (should
have!) brought it back home tonight to re-do and add on. He has been
given all the requisite vocab. and pages in his text book to refer to, But
certainly not a French dictionary out of a cracker which he said he had been using!
Please do get in touch with me at any time.
Best wishes to all the family
Madame Grimal
You wait till I next see Mme Grimal! She’s not going to believe this. To be fair to her though Bob himself says he has no idea why he was awarded this distinction. Just the day before I had had a text from him telling me he had just taken his French oral GCSE test. At least he turned up for it. His sister Hen once missed a GCSE practical exam opting instead to go to play polo. How did it go I asked, ever the concerned parent. “It went really well thanks but towards the end I mucked up a little bit” was the ever so slightly worrying response. The harsh truth is that this is no Modern Languages genius we are talking about. Then it struck me maybe I was being too narrow minded in focussing on his French. Reach for your Urban Dictionary if you have trouble translating this alternative rendition he offered me regarding his achievement:
“ Its dope, just got hooked up with my institutes number 1 for spkn differen stuff “
On the theme of drumming up old memories, something had been bugging me all week. You may recall I was talking about Burma the other day. Well I wonder if you saw the Top Gear double header which concluded last Sunday. They were driving lorries across Myanmar before building a bridge over a river in Thailand. There were some funny moments though it dragged on a bit. Consequently, one particular anecdote related by Jeremy Clarkson struck a chord at the time, but by Monday morning I just couldn’t recall what it was…..that was until last night when looking for these stories of Bob’s modern language credentials I stumbled on THE JAM BOY story. That was it! Clarkson told the Jam Boy story. Would you believe it?!
As we took the first of what proved to be many glugs of Gavi di Gavi yesterday evening at dinner, the person sitting next to me leaned over conspiratorially and said “I was told to ask you about the Jam Boy.” It’s quite an opening line and I have to admit it somewhat took me aback. However I admit that it only took one more word, GOLF, to remind me of one of the more bizarre things I have seen.
I have banged on quite a bit recently about Thailand, but it is a whacky place. I had a tough old time when I lived there between 1996 and 1998. The SET index was in the process of falling 90% in US$ terms, so making the best of a bad situation, I got my golf handicap, briefly, down to 4 or 5. I had time on my hands it is fair to say. Consequently most lunchtimes would involve 9 holes at the Royal Bangkok Sports Club, a bowl of roast pork and noodles washed down with an ice cold glistening bottle of Singha Gold. So I got lots of practice, plus I had every conceivable prop to support me on the golf course. A round of golf was no lonely affair at the Sports Club, where Bangkok’s elite made sure every need was catered for. There was, naturally, the caddie carrying one’s bag, another loping along behind with a chair in the event of a hold up and prepared to give tired shoulders a massage on demand. Then there was a troop of klong boys who, on the very rare instance my ball ended up in the water, would dive into the brown muddy cess pits and miraculously, the appropriate amount of baht having changed hands, I would find my ball lying safely on the fairway. But we should not forget another, albeit rather forlorn figure, who trailed around the course with us on days when the skies were grey and overcast, at a respectful distance, wearing rubber wellington boots and holding a tall metal pole above him. He performed the role of a human lightening conductor. Marvellous. Is what is happening just now in Bangkok any surprise really?
So where does the Jam Boy come into this? Well, my dinner companion has yet to revert, having told me he would have a quiet chat with the gentleman who had told him to probe me about the Jam Boy because he clearly has a rather warped imagination. He claims, but I can assure you he had completely invented this, that I invariably had another companion on my jaunts round the Bangkok Sports Club golf course. A naked man, smeared with jam from head to toe, whose role in life was to attract flies and wasps away from the golfers??? I mean....where did that come from?!
So now we know!
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