Until I set foot on the Normandy sands, I was a chap of calm and sanguine disposition whose worst anxieties were on the order of seeing a traffic cop in the rearview mirror; now, in a single tick of a clock, I became a marionette on a string, ducking and weaving in an effort to get away from the invisible bits of metal I could hear buzzing like bees above my head and past my ears.
I mean a chap came in,... said 'why haven't I had aspirin before?'.
"I thought the end of the world was nigh the other day when I saw a chap removing his diamond earrings on being called up from the bench.
Do you know anyone else like him?" And I said, "A chap called Ridley Scott".
Up in the mountains I met a chap called Father Andreas, a bear of a man and the local priest.
You do think 'Shit, if our plane had landed half an hour earlier, that could have been my bag sitting there.' I saw a chap with a bloodied arm, and someone with a rag on his head, but nothing catastrophic.
These are all the opinions of experienced teachers and shouldn't be taken lightly, but neither should less polarised views like those of this teacher: "It varies from family to family really … I have a chap in my class, his mum reads with him every night and does all the work that is sent home …[others] don't have the resources at home and obviously literacy skills to do so".
I asked a chap who works in PR for Nintendo over here when it's out, and he didn't know.
And he asked me if I had any problems, and I told him I lived with a chap, and with my heart condition, could I make love?
(Stanley, 78) I've got a chap across the road here who I see once a morning when he comes to work and probably in the afternoon.
