We would all do well to mind our languages

Six years ago, in a bid to increase the nation's capacity to speak anything other than its mother tongue badly, the Government decided it would be a good idea to remove compulsory modern language GcSEs from the curriculum altogether.

No, I'm not sure of the logic either, and the net result is that entries for GcSE French in England have dropped from 315,071 in 2002 to 197,774 last year, to take one example. Thousands of British children will go on holiday this summer unable to ask for so much as a beer, let alone get a snog off a local.

Having reluctantly taken French and russian GcSEs only to find myself pursuing them all the way to degree level, the advantages of foreign-language teaching seem to me self-evident. I wish now I could have dropped science and added German and Spanish, for these are the only subjects you can use for your own pleasure, which give you a demonstrable skill and where revision can consist of having a chat over a beer.

But perhaps it's only with hindsight that the subjunctive can start to seem sexy. Notably, while children are content to remain monoglots, adults have never been keener to learn a foreign language, with evening classes and self-help guides more popular than ever.

This in mind, I have spent a week learning Italian on my way to work. I chose to follow the Michel Thomas method, invented by a former French resistance fighter who now grins from the front of an expensive set of cDs and promises fluency in various languages in eight hours.

The lessons consist of patient, brave Michel teaching two students according to a carefully structured system. You just listen in - no pens, no memorising - the idea being that when you understand something properly, it sticks in your mind.

It is remarkably effective, addictive even. Embarrassing, sometimes - I found myself, on the 106 the other day, going "VedrEMO! VedrEMO! You idiot!" when Michel's female student proved stubbornly slow to recall the future tense. But the fact that after little effort I am now capable of conversing and a week ago I could only order one or two varieties of pasta seems a minor miracle.

The tragedy of this is that as I am way beyond puberty, my ability to retain this information is far inferior to that of a 13-year-old. If you have bored kids this summer, take a hard line and put this on the car stereo. They will thank you for it later.