I was a fighter pilot in the French air force. One sunny afternoon I went for a wander through the grounds of a stately home in the south of England. An Arabic woman in army fatigues approached me and asked if I would be willing to help her practise her English. I was happy to oblige. We opened up my burgundy carry-on suitcase and I started etching lines into the plastic. Not only was I going to teach this woman English, but also a little maths, and something about Roman numerals.