I've spent the last two days studying French at the University of Oxford. I'm exhausted, but jubilant. I've worked hard these last two days, putting myself in a class that was probably a touch above where I was when I started, but one where I could more or less keep up by the end. I've filled in the gaps in my grammar and tested my vocab and found it better than expected.
My new job considers 'a second UN language to at least intermediate level' a distinct advantage, and after this weekend, I'm confident that my French is indeed intermediate. I know it's dreadfully daggy to be so happy about studying, but I'm rather chuffed.
Now all I need is to get my mouth around some Italian...
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