Got a call from the language school this morning...

Got a call from the language school this morning asking me if I’d take a VIP next week for a month. Apparently, he’s a Euro MP (whatever that means) and the school wants him to have the full five-star treatment.

Almuth, the accommodation secretary, said, “We’d love you to have him as you’ve had so much experience of so many nationalities and types and you’re used to dealing with tricky customers.” She’s right, too: when you’ve lived under the same roof with foreigners as I have these last 33 years, there’s nothing, however bizarre, that can faze you. But here’s the hilarious part: she says to me, “There’s just one problem — he’s allergic to cats.”

“And I’ve got two,” I said.
“Yes, I know,” she said.
“Jeffrey and Ian,” I said.
“Yes, she said, and she hesitated. I could hear her repeatedly clicking the button on her retractable ballpoint pen. “The thing is,” she said, “I was wondering if you could possibly have the cats placed in a cattery for the duration of Mr… er, Malherbe’s stay. Naturally, the school would meet the costs of their accommodation…”

Now I’ve had some strange requests in my time as a hostmother but this was priceless! I happen to know that Almuth herself is of foreign extraction, so I was willing to make allowances.

“My dear,” I said, “I think you’ve misunderstood one of the basic principles of family life in this country. I’ve sometimes had occasions to get rid of students because the animals didn’t take to them, but the other way round… Well, it’s unthinkable. Now if you’d asked me to have Leslie placed in temporary residential care, there might have been some room for manoeuvre!”