I was on a well-structured path, which, in tiny increments, would lead me from the present tense to the future perfect and the subjunctive, eventually rendering the gobbledegook of the final chapters intelligible.

At 13 I spent two weeks with a family in Paris, and for the first few days was stupefied. Then from a welter of meaningless sound, the words separated into ones recognisable from the textbook.

After another few days I was imitating them and by the end of the fortnight I was flying. I opened my mouth and it was as if another person spoke. I started to dream in French.

It was magic.

I lived in France for a while, then Italy and Spain. With the template of one Romance language firmly established, the others came easy. Except Portuguese.

On paper, it is simple, but spoken it sounds like a cross between Russian and Chinese.

Houses, 'as casas', is said 'ush kahzush.

'Where are the toilets? is a useful phrase anywhere. Written, it is 'onde sao as casas de banho?' Spoken it is 'ond sowng ush kahzush duh bahnyoo'. Clutching my Collins Portuguese phrasebook, I would hover on pavements mouthing sentences before entering a cafe and asking for a beer, 'serveyjuh' or a whisky, 'oooeeshk'. In the Algarve I was answered in English, but I didn't care. I'd spoken the language and been understood. It's always a buzz.

For holiday purposes a night school language class probably won't get you very far. You won't have enough chance to hear and repeat the phrases you'll actually need.

Rather than be bogged down in verb formations, it's better to have off pat a few useful terms, such as 'I would like, ' 'where is? , 'is there/are there?', 'how much is?' 'yes', 'no', 'hello', 'goodbye', 'thank you'.

In France, you may not always get an ecstatic response. Like the English, they can be chauvinistic about their language, but in Portugal and Italy your attempts will meet with over-the-top approbation, which will spur you on to greater things.

In May I'll be spending a week on the Greek island of Skyros, and didn't see how I could get even a rudimentary grasp of the language in time. Then I came across the languages section of the BBC website, bbc. co. uk. Amazing! Short videos and slide shows cutting right to the chase, plus little quizzes to check how you're doing. It even breaks down the Greek alphabet into digestible chunks. I'm only on lesson three, but I can already respond to chat-up lines, should the need arise.

In October I'll be staying at the School of St Jude in Tanzania (www. schoolofstjude. tz) and in preparation have stepped into the whole new world of Swahili, courtesy of the ILAC centre in Dublin. The language lab there is used mostly by foreign students learning English, but is also a great resource for holidaymakers, with videos and tapes in most languages. The advantage here is that you can listen back to yourself. You have to book a place in advance, but the courses are free.

Thanks to missionaries who transcribed the language in the 19th century, Swahili is spoken as it is written, and, unlike many African languages, there are no tones or clicks to negotiate. Where French has two noun classes, however . . . masculine and feminine . . . and German has three, including neuter, Swahili has 11. This is a bit daunting, especially as everything else in the sentence changes . . . verbs, prepositions, adjectives . . .

according to which class the noun is. And it's all different again in the plural . . . so we're talking 22 possible variations of each sentence component.

But the language sounds wonderful:

'Unataka chakula?' Do you want food?

'Tunataka machungwa', we want oranges.

And of course, 'hakuna matata', no worries.

Once you've got the logic of it, verbs snap together like jigsaws. Once again, I'm hooked.

As well as offering short language courses, the BBC website allows you to listen to news broadcasts in various languages. I'm up to lesson 40 in the Swahili course, but can barely pick out any recognisable words on the Swahili news.

Nevertheless, I think it's worth plodding on.

Tanzania, I'm sure, will open up to me once I can ask for mangoes ('maembe') in the market ('sokoni'). And who knows what will happen in Skyros now that I can flirt in Greek?