In July I really wanted to do it; in August I couldn't wait to get started; in September I got cold feet.

Learning Spanish, that's what we're talking about - learning Spanish at evening class, to be more precise.

Serious self-improvement has the greatest allure when the sun is shining and you're feeling positive and game for anything - well, almost anything.

"Let's show them you can teach an old dog new tricks," you tell your reflection in the mirror. "With a bit of effort there's still time to make something of yourself, to boost your self-confidence.

"What you need is a challenge, an interest to stop the old grey matter shrinking.

"Why not go back to school and learn something stimulating and exciting, something like a new language... Spanish for instance? Yes, that's exactly what you need."

Not just yet, though. No action is called for while the summer sun is shining and there are better ways to waste your time than swotting up past participles.

But now it's September and summer suns have shone and gone. It's time to take those self-improvement plans out of storage and put them into action.

"Learning Spanish? What a good idea," said a friend.

So I invited her to join me at evening class, giving her the spiel about the benefits of taking up stimulating new challenges in your senior years.

I was actually touting for company. In my experience of evening classes, limited though that may be, it's best to have a friend with you. Everybody else will have and if you're alone you'll feel like an outsider, the sad little kid nobody wants to sit next to or get to know.

It's also my advice to go with another greenhorn (and my friend's knowledge of Spanish was zilch, like mine). Evening classes always seem to attract a handful of experienced but obviously insecure people who deliberately join the beginners' courses and try to pass themselves off as novices in order to show off and look good.

"Don't know why you want to go back to school," said The Mother. "You always hated it when you were a child. You were always trying to get me to write notes excusing you from games and swimming."

My friend laughed. "That's all right," she said. "We're not planning on doing games or swimming - we're going to learn Spanish."

"Are you really?" said The Mother, looking in my direction. "You didn't tell me that. Are we going to have a holiday in Spain then?"

"Not quite," I replied, adding for her benefit: "Actually I was thinking about going to live there."

"Too hot for me," said the Mother.

"Quite," I murmured.

"Vanora was dreadful at languages when she was at school," The Mother said, pointedly ignoring me and turning to my friend.

"She was bottom of her class in French and she was so bad at Latin that after two terms the teacher wouldn't have her back."

"Really?" said my friend. "I was actually very good at languages - I think I have a talent for them. I was top of my class in French and German and I've always wanted to learn Spanish. I can't wait to get started."

I felt my feet begin to chill.

"Actually," I said. "It doesn't have to be Spanish. We could learn something else entirely."

"Such as what?" asked my friend.

"Macram?" I suggested.