“Oh, that is nice…”

Monday morning conversations with my grandmotherly Japanese conversation teacher:

– And how was your weekend, dear?

– Oh, you know… A lovely mountain Autumn hike, singing practice, bit of social drinking at the club, and on Sunday, cultural workshop on traditional Japanese crafts with my local exchange partner.

Why do I, in such occasions, hear myself speak in the voice of Malcolm McDowell.


  1. Oh, the voices never stopped. I just don’t listen to them as much as I used to.

    And about sounding like Malcolm McDowell… ahem… Thanks? Is that your way of commenting on my general state of sanity?

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