Клуб любителей английского языка

In my childhood my father worked as an interpreter. It was his job to meet English-speaking foreigners and accompany them about the city.

When I was a girl of about seven or eight, Dad once asked Mum and me to the circus where he was to take a young Englishman from Nottingham called Marc. By that time I’d only started to learn English at school.

At the circus Mum and I were sitting on Marc’s left. Before the performance began, Mum, who knew no English, wanted me to gain some English-speaking experience with Marc. And as I had absolutely no idea what to say to him, Mum suggested asking about fogs in Great Britain.

I had a very vague idea how to ask that. I thought,

‘The word seems to sound something like ‘frog’. If I just say the word to him, he will certainly understand what I mean.’

So I said, ‘Frog…’

Marc was wearing a green pullover. He looked at me in surprise and asked, ‘Me?’

I nodded my head happily – I had evidently been understood!

Dad, who was sitting on Marc’s right, realized there was something wrong. He had to listen to Mum’s story first, then to my story and only after that he was able to translate the whole misunderstanding to Marc.

The adults had a great laugh afterwards. And I felt thoroughly ashamed.