Padding into the kitchen at 10 BC (10 minutes Before Coffee) I find my young son, James, crying silently and uncontrollably with laughter behind a giant box of Golden Grahams. He’s peering over the top at Walter, who is popping Weetabix into his mouth — whole, dry and sideways. Unaware he is being observed, our visiting language student from Italy crunches vacantly like a wide-mouthed frog, crumbs cascading down his cardie.
My brain struggles to cope as I inadvertently pour un-boiled water over coffee granules. So this is why James has started getting up far too early for school; he’s setting his alarm to watch ‘our’ students eat breakfast. And who can blame him?
Our house in Bournemouth sees a stream of language students passing through, allowing us all to observe the cultural chasm, which, like me, yawns widest at breakfast. Like a cross between David Attenborough and Basil Fawlty, I am both fascinated and appalled.
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