My work as an English teacher is interesting stuff, sometimes it’s good, sometimes bad but sometimes it is just plain embarrassing.
One of these times was when I was acting as tour guide/Teacher to a gentleman in a certain European capital, I was accompanying him round the sites and attractions of the city; I was paid to keep the conversation going using the varies stimulus we encountered.
This was all well and good the public gardens, or the windy streets of the mediaeval quarter, but one day it was suggested we go the museum of sculptures. All very interesting, yes, but there was a slight problem.
Not that the sculptures were not magnificent, solid white marble showing the power and strength of the human body, life sized and raised on platforms so that they struck impressive heights. The problem was that they were all completely naked.
As we entered the first room, we were greeted, at eye level a study of the male anatomy so detailed and intricate that it was hard to believe it was carved out of stone.
I was absolutely lost for words.
I was so embarrassed in my English way of the nakedness that I could not think of one thing to say.
I don’t think my student noticed my silent blushing. He seemed quite happy looking at the statues and commenting on the skilled craftsmanship.
We passed though rooms and rooms of these cold white corpses, even a women lying on her back, lags apart. I had to avert my gaze.
It was a relief when we finally arrived at a room full of heads. Thank goodness there is nothing explicit about a head. In this room I tried to make up for my earlier silence and talked enthusiastically about noises, ears, eyes and hair. Anything but reproductive organs.