I watched him from the third floor park his Volvo and walk through the courtyard. A man in the shadows gazed in awe as The Gentle Giant strode by like a colossus, incongruous looking textbooks in hand, and pounded up the staircase to my door. The dogs greeted him enthusiastically and he lowered his mighty frame into one of my delicate antique bentwood chairs. He politely refused all offers of food or drink and only ever drank water.
He had bashfully inquired about learning a little English as he felt foolish at international weightlifting competitions where he couldn't even tell the time or count from one to ten. We started at the beginning and he proved to be an eager and industrious student.
The poor chairs would creak and groan under his weight, and often, on making a mistake The Gentle Giant would curse loudly and bang the mahogany table hard with his fist... everything on it jumping six inches into the air.
We met over the course of a long hot summer and I got to know that behind the fearsome exterior was an intelligent and gracious soul. He lives on his own and has a beautiful iguana and a less beautiful girlfriend who has none of the charm or humility that he is blessed with.
A grey autumn arrived all too soon and with it his enthusiasm waned. While still at a basic level, he chose to 'take a break' and has never returned. On seeing me in the pub he always lights up and makes a point of coming over to shake my hand warmly. He was in good spirits this week having just returned from a holiday abroad... "I spoke the English all time... no problem! This the easy language! I feel very good to this."
Only a few days ago I came across a souvenir from one of our early lessons. He had requested I write down a few sentences which he could learn and use at the pub on the odd occasion when he had to communicate to foreigners. On the plain A4 sheet were the words...private party tonight, we close at six, and... please leave!
