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"Paul’s work on the international curriculum over 10 years ensured that Sefton was in the vanguard nationally in developing staff and student exchanges and study visits. His language skills were paramount in this as the department and Sefton schools expanded their links to include many countries in Europe and the world."
Bryn Marsh, Director, Children, Schools and Familes, Sefton Council, April 2005

FIFA World Cup Report – Spain v. Germany PDF
Saturday, 10 July 2010 00:00

from Carolyn Emmett, Montejaque's correspondent in South Africa

Spain v. Germany, July 7th at 8.30 p.m.

I was invited by my German girlfriend, Renate, to watch the match at her home on this action-packed Wednesday evening. We had dinner first, at 7:00 p.m., and then sat down in front of a wide-screen TV to watch the game at 8:30.  Interestingly enough, the dinner was Spanish – lamb cooked in manzanilla. I thought she’d at least have made an Eisbein mit Sauerkraut!

Imagine how I felt, being the only Spanish supporter at that evening: there was Renate and her husband, Peter (who is English, but who had now switched allegiance to his wife’s team); there was Reinhardt and Susanne (both German); there was Marietta (Hungarian, but cheering for the Germans); and there was Kinie (Dutch) ...  who was also supporting the Germans, as she was hoping for a Germany vs. Netherlands final, where she hoped her team could finally beat their ‘oppressors’!

I was the only person dressed in the red and yellow of the Spanish team. I had my trusty vuvuzela and my Spanish armbands, but I was reticent about screaming, cheering and leaping about when Spain had the ball  - 68% of the time, as it turned out.

The German supporters were a lot less reserved: they yelled at the TV, in both German and English, every time their team had possession. They groaned when the ball was lost to the expertise of the Spanish defence (and to their excellent mid-field play), and shouted ‘spread out!’ every time a German player had his toe anywhere near the ball. 

Imagine how loud I blew my vuvuzela, and how enthusiastically I cheered when Spain finally got the ball in the goal. (How many chances did they have? I was thinking the goal should be moved about half a metre to the right, to grab all those attempted shots).

I drove proudly away from Renate’s house, with my Spanish wing-mirror covers blazing and my Spanish window-flag fluttering smugly in the evening breeze.

© Carolyn Emmett


Paul Whitelock

Paul is a Joint Honours graduate in Spanish and German, a qualified teacher (PGCE) and has a Member of the Institute of Linguists (MIL) qualification.

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