I do a lot of my best reading in the bathtub. I might even do some writing there, too, but I won’t make any claims regarding the quality.
I cheated on my project and finished William Alexander’s Flirting with French at home*. My wife pointed this one out to me at the local book store as something that might be relevant to my interests. I’ve been messing around with the Duolingo app and learning a smidgen of French in the process. The book is about a man’s attempt to learn French in his fifties, so yes, it is very much the sort of thing I’m interested in.
My main takeaway?
I will not be learning French any time soon.
Alexander’s attempt to learn the language was considerably more intense than anything I’m willing to attempt and, I hope I’m not giving anything away here, he is not a fluent speaker by the end of the book. As I’ve never been especially good with languages, I can’t imagine I’d do any better. That’s ok, though. I’m just trying to sweep the cobwebs out of my brain, and trying to learn something you’ll never properly grasp is a heck of a way to keep the cobwebs at bay.