We have lived in five different countries during our marriage. Apart from Brunei and Singapore where Malay and Chinese were quite beyond me, I have always managed to learn a bit of the spoken language; thus I had a decent amount of French, enough Dutch to hold a basic conversation, and a smattering of German. Welsh, however, was a bridge too far. I bought a 'Teach Yourself Welsh' book, as DH said his grandmother, who we were going to visit, spoke it when at home in Llanwrtydd Wells. (I gave up with the book before I started). She was ancient and confined to bed when I met her, and the only thing she said to me was "Do you go to chapel?" When I said "I'm afraid not" and continued to make conversation about my family and where I came from, she suddenly slumped, eyes closed, and I thought "oh my God, she's dead!" She wasn't, she was asleep, but it is the nearest I have got to actually thinking I'd bored someone to death
. While I am in full flow, we had another faux pas of sorts with the Welsh language while driving along the Pembrokeshire coast road. I was map reading, we didn't quite know where we were when DH said "I just passed a sign back there that said Tato newi; see if you can find it on the map." Of course, I couldn't. It means 'new potatoes'! We picked a bag up at the nearby farm, where they kindly gave us directions.