"Żywy!" quoth I wittily this morning when Polish Pretend Son appeared outside the kitchen. "Dzień dobry!"
"Dzień dobry," said PPS and disappeared in the direction of the bathroom.
That was my Polish conversation for the morning until I perceived that PPS had made himself some breakfast.
"Czy masz ochotę kaa---aa--wę?" I inquired.
"Tak, poproszę. Dziękuję," said PPS.
"Okay," I said, courage failing, and made the coffee.
And that is basically it, for I fell down badly (so to speak) after asking PPS what he wanted to do today, and then trying to tell him that I had a bad dream, which was pretty sad, as this morning I had just been reading about Harry Potter having a bad dream. Why I blocked out zły when I could remember gorzy is no doubt a question for linguists.
Alas, I did not take advantage of two parties and limitless booze to discover how much alcohol is best to help my ability to communicate in a second language. However, I was quite pleased during Saturday's party, in which all guests were Polish, to get a general sense of what the conversation was about, the guests being encouraged to keep on speaking Polish when I (but not B.A.) re-entered the dining-room. So that was very cheering and hope-inspiring.