I just heard from Phillip Parente — all good. I am to see him next on 20 July. On that date I am also scheduled to have my next Zolodex implant, with the usual provisos. On 20 July I will be seeing Phillip face to face; the appointment in the Epworth day oncology unit which is scheduled 30 minutes later. One day they some clever person will work out a way to deliver drug implants via the internet. Until then I have to schlep over there in person for one of the super oncology nurses to do the business.

I have had three Zoom meetings this week, two for the exercise class, one for German. The latter is something I have just resumed doing after a break of several years. However much I doubted that I would ever get back to Austria or Germany, I kept all my books, dictionaries, and the other language learning clutter. Without any concrete purpose to turn over the language engine again, though, things stayed in a state of equilibrium. One day a few weeks ago, though, I started going a bit stir crazy with the isolation, and realised that I needed a project. I had had a fair bit of Zoom experience by then, as well. This led to one of those rare lightbulb moments in which I wondered if I could use that platform for language learning. Not only could I do that: my former language school wasn’t doing classes any other way. So I made contact, explained my purpose, and had my first lesson with Jörg. Alles gut! 

I have fond memories of making my way into Melbourne when I was doing German face to face in 2015 and 2016. I would drive to Riversdale station and catch the train to Parliament. From there I would cross Spring Street and walk through East Melbourne, past the lowering bluestone bulk of St Patrick’s Cathedral. The language school was in an old terrace house on Victoria Street. I began in a small class, which would make its way up the narrow, creaky stairs. When I got back from the trip, the class was half way through its new term. The only way I could try to catch up was by seeing a teacher one on one. When I got the cancer diagnosis, language learning seemed like the least important thing to do.  

I’m glad I didn’t let it go, though. German now seems like a vast jigsaw puzzle, complex, but less impenetrable than it did the first time. With my dictionaries, web sites, index cards, and multi-coloured pens (handy for learning genders), I feel better prepared for this second campaign. The break has given me time to ponder the intricacies of this knotty language, and a couple of countries to relate it to. For the first time in my life, I am learning grammar. (It would have been get this under my belt at school, but besser spät als nie, as punctual Germans would say.)