the boy with the sore shoulder blade sounds remarkably chirpy: ‘it hurts like hell when i touch it.’
his tone, his inflexion suggest that he’s found a fiver in his shorts.
he had to brake hard on his bike to avoid being run over by a car at a crossing, the car was going way too fast, he reckons.
the chap on the bike right behind him wasn’t so quick, so he crashed into him, supporting himself on the boy-in-front’s shoulder.
‘no worries, man, i told him; if you hadn’t done that you’d have been run over yourself by the car.’ what his voice suggests is: ‘hey good to meet you; sure, i’d be glad to have a beer any time.’
he’s now on his way to hand in his apologies for tonight’s training in person. there are, after all, three goal keepers now, and the weather is wet, so training will probably be taking place on the astro-turf. it’s important to him, this, so he does it in person. he doesn’t say it’s important to him, but the way he says that he’s going to hand in his apologies in person, and the way he says it three times suggest that it is. you don’t just phone in your absence, his voice is saying, you go in person, and make your apologies. because of the bad shoulder. the shoulder, though, his voice also says, will be all right, it’s nothing to worry about. at least the other chap didn’t get run over, that would have clearly been worse.
and he’s doing well with his marks, he’s got a five in art [six is the best], and nadia has an average 5.5 across the board now, so he told her ‘you see, you didn’t even know how good you are with your marks’.
it’s not clear whether nadia is his sister or girlfriend, what he says sounds more like the latter but his tone is more that of the former.
now he’d like a zopf please for a brunch he’s having on sunday. (a zopf is a plaited loaf of white bread that tends to taste a bit sweet and is very popular on sundays in switzerland, though not necessarily for a brunch.) it’s not entirely clear where he’s having his brunch, but he’d like his interlocutor to bake him one please, for sunday.
he signs off, with a chirp still about his whole being, but the choice of his words is both casual and strikingly grave: ‘ciao mother!’ i have a feeling she may just oblige...
his tone, his inflexion suggest that he’s found a fiver in his shorts.
he had to brake hard on his bike to avoid being run over by a car at a crossing, the car was going way too fast, he reckons.
the chap on the bike right behind him wasn’t so quick, so he crashed into him, supporting himself on the boy-in-front’s shoulder.
‘no worries, man, i told him; if you hadn’t done that you’d have been run over yourself by the car.’ what his voice suggests is: ‘hey good to meet you; sure, i’d be glad to have a beer any time.’
he’s now on his way to hand in his apologies for tonight’s training in person. there are, after all, three goal keepers now, and the weather is wet, so training will probably be taking place on the astro-turf. it’s important to him, this, so he does it in person. he doesn’t say it’s important to him, but the way he says that he’s going to hand in his apologies in person, and the way he says it three times suggest that it is. you don’t just phone in your absence, his voice is saying, you go in person, and make your apologies. because of the bad shoulder. the shoulder, though, his voice also says, will be all right, it’s nothing to worry about. at least the other chap didn’t get run over, that would have clearly been worse.
and he’s doing well with his marks, he’s got a five in art [six is the best], and nadia has an average 5.5 across the board now, so he told her ‘you see, you didn’t even know how good you are with your marks’.
it’s not clear whether nadia is his sister or girlfriend, what he says sounds more like the latter but his tone is more that of the former.
now he’d like a zopf please for a brunch he’s having on sunday. (a zopf is a plaited loaf of white bread that tends to taste a bit sweet and is very popular on sundays in switzerland, though not necessarily for a brunch.) it’s not entirely clear where he’s having his brunch, but he’d like his interlocutor to bake him one please, for sunday.
he signs off, with a chirp still about his whole being, but the choice of his words is both casual and strikingly grave: ‘ciao mother!’ i have a feeling she may just oblige...
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