Sian: The Educational Hussy

You find me in something of a distracted mood today. Strider is hanging around in the background complaining about Eastenders but I’m not allowed to tell her to naff off because she has just handed me a cup of tea.

The second reason I’m distracted is, of course, the Six Nations Rugby tournament which kicked off this weekend with victories for Ireland over France, England over Italy and, I am very proud to say, Wales over Scotland. If you’ve never seen a Rugby match I urge you to watch one at once. Name me any other sport in the world in which you can hear a commentator say “That’ll be a yellow card… when he wakes up of course.”

The third reason for my distraction is a certain amount of lingual confusion. You see, recently I have been trying to improve my Welsh in the hope of becoming a fully paid up member of the Taffia.

I don’t speak much Welsh. I can count, enquire after your health and follow a Rugby commentary but that is about my limit. Now that I have broadband I have been studying it via the marvellous BBC website.
Along with the usual vocabulary lists and a man name Dewi explaining grammar to you, there are a number of short films concerning the life of a woman named Sian. I am already hooked.

Her day begins normally enough. She gets up, puts the kettle on and glares at her children until they wish her “Bore Da.” Then the doorbell rings. Rather excitingly, it is Danny, the new postman. He has a package but first he must check she is not some stranger cunningly pretending to live in a house other than her own in order to intercept it.
“Sian Davies dych chi?” He asks.
“Ie.” She replies, looking confused. She’s already told him she’s feeling tired so maybe she isn’t quite sure of her name.
He seems unwilling to take her word for it but swiftly hands the package over once her geeky, bespectacled son appears at the door. He is holding a triangular piece of toast which, I assume, passes for a deadly weapon in Swansea.
Sian takes the package inside. The label has been printed by a computer. If I were Sian I would find this highly suspicious and examine the brown paper for grease stains, loose wires or the smell of almonds. Instead she blithely opens it to find a single red rose.

Our story continues with Sian drinking “coffi” in a deserted bar. She is wearing a very low cut dress with the rose stuck in the cleavage, even though it is only three in the afternoon. Presumably her children are off experimenting with intravenous drugs in a doorway somewhere.
A swarthy young man enters the bar. At first I assume he has got lost on his way to a wedding as he has a rose in his lapel, but it turns out he is there to meet Sian. He introduces himself as Ed. Sian waggles her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Later that evening, Ed presents himself at the leisure centre. It turns out his name isn’t Ed after all. His name is actually Edward. Now we know why Danny the new postman was so eager for Sian to confirm her identity earlier.
Edward tells the woman at reception he is there for “y cwrs Karate”. The woman checks her list.
The tension builds.
Edward is not on the list. The woman licks her lips nervously and asks Edward for his name again.
“Edward Morgan dw i,” He tells her.
She checks the list again. He is still not on it.
Edward takes a poster from his pocket and brandishes it in a wimpy non-threatening manner. He reads it aloud for the benefit of everybody.
Just when it seems as though disaster will occur, the woman realises she is looking at the Tae Kwon Do list! Oh how they laugh together. She wouldn’t be laughing so much if this wasn’t Edward’s first lesson; instead she’d be lying on the floor in a pool of her own unhelpfulness. She should watch herself.
She apologises and directs him to Room Three, pointing vaguely in what I expect will turn out to be the wrong direction.

So endeth lesson one. Next time: Exchanging information!

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