The French Girls are here. But through some unfortunate bureaucratic cock up they are both aged about 12 and not 18 as we were led to believe. So thanks for all the offers of spy cam kits, backhanded payments to come and stay at my place, and generous inducements to pass on the negatives, but it has all come to naught! Basically because I don’t want to spend the next six years on Rule 42 in the Isle of Wight prison checking out if anyone’s behind me when I drop the soap in the showers. I’m no pervert!
Once again I have opened my house to the world. This time to two very young French girls from Poitier (which is where the great black actor Sidney Poitier came from or so I believe) in France. They are tres timid and float around my house like ghosts, whispering to each other, in the way 12 year old girls whisper to each other all over the world. I strain my ears and edge closer to them to try and overhear to see if they are saying nasty things about us, but to no avail, plus they whisper in French which is unfair as I can’t understand it.
Once again our French guests have challenged my stereotype of the French being soap dodgers. They were hardly in the house for half an hour when they asked if they could have a shower. Of course this could mean that a shower is a luxury that they do not have access to at home. I mean, I have seen some of these French houses on those ‘Buy a House in France’ TV programmes and some of them are no better than barns – I kid you not!
They eat like Edith Piaf and treat the place like un ‘otel, refusing the generous portions of Fish and Chips last night on the grounds that the first one was allergic (say with French accent) to poisson and the other just wrinkled her nose in the same way she will when she’s 22 and someone’s just asked her for a blowjob! I though the French were great gastronomes and yet they don’t like Fish and Chips! They ended up with sausages of which they each only ate one of the two they were given. Tonight its Pizza and Smiley Potato Faces, they don’t seem to want to eat vegetables – we’ll see what they’re like with traditional Italian food. (I’ve already mentioned in an earlier related blog about the problems of finding traditional French food locally)
Whenever I have spent a holiday in France I seem to get along quite well with the language and have few problems communicating with the locals, we get fed, buy beer, ask the way to le plage and so on. So why is it that whenever I try to speak French to these two girls they look at me with alarmed faces as if I am saying something that terrifies them. Maybe I am who knows? But generally its ‘Have you got le picnic’, ‘ Time pour le manger’ ‘le plume du ma tante’ , ferme le fentre’, ‘ouvre la porte’ and so on.
We seem to be getting on alright though, last night they took photographs of my wife and myself, ostensibly to show to their mama e papa but now I’m worried that they might be passing them on to Interpol when they get back and the next time we try to enter France we’ll be arrested on some sort of trumped up foreign charge that is usually reserved for football fans and Germans. Then we’ll be thrown into some dank French Gaol and made to eat Onion Soup – heavy on the garlic!
Although they profess not to be able to parley anglais, even un petit pur, when they were in the back of the car yesterday they were singing along to something on the radio, in English. So I think that I might have discovered something here. A universal language, like Esperanto, but something, unlike Esperanto, that works. Yes, song lyrics. We could communicate through the medium of contemporary song lyrics as they seem to know these in English (the universal language I might point out). What do you think?
At this point I was going to post the lyrics of the Maurice Chevalier song ‘Thank Heavens For Little Girls’, but on reflection I refer you to the last sentence of the first paragraph!
Once again I have opened my house to the world. This time to two very young French girls from Poitier (which is where the great black actor Sidney Poitier came from or so I believe) in France. They are tres timid and float around my house like ghosts, whispering to each other, in the way 12 year old girls whisper to each other all over the world. I strain my ears and edge closer to them to try and overhear to see if they are saying nasty things about us, but to no avail, plus they whisper in French which is unfair as I can’t understand it.
Once again our French guests have challenged my stereotype of the French being soap dodgers. They were hardly in the house for half an hour when they asked if they could have a shower. Of course this could mean that a shower is a luxury that they do not have access to at home. I mean, I have seen some of these French houses on those ‘Buy a House in France’ TV programmes and some of them are no better than barns – I kid you not!
They eat like Edith Piaf and treat the place like un ‘otel, refusing the generous portions of Fish and Chips last night on the grounds that the first one was allergic (say with French accent) to poisson and the other just wrinkled her nose in the same way she will when she’s 22 and someone’s just asked her for a blowjob! I though the French were great gastronomes and yet they don’t like Fish and Chips! They ended up with sausages of which they each only ate one of the two they were given. Tonight its Pizza and Smiley Potato Faces, they don’t seem to want to eat vegetables – we’ll see what they’re like with traditional Italian food. (I’ve already mentioned in an earlier related blog about the problems of finding traditional French food locally)
Whenever I have spent a holiday in France I seem to get along quite well with the language and have few problems communicating with the locals, we get fed, buy beer, ask the way to le plage and so on. So why is it that whenever I try to speak French to these two girls they look at me with alarmed faces as if I am saying something that terrifies them. Maybe I am who knows? But generally its ‘Have you got le picnic’, ‘ Time pour le manger’ ‘le plume du ma tante’ , ferme le fentre’, ‘ouvre la porte’ and so on.
We seem to be getting on alright though, last night they took photographs of my wife and myself, ostensibly to show to their mama e papa but now I’m worried that they might be passing them on to Interpol when they get back and the next time we try to enter France we’ll be arrested on some sort of trumped up foreign charge that is usually reserved for football fans and Germans. Then we’ll be thrown into some dank French Gaol and made to eat Onion Soup – heavy on the garlic!
Although they profess not to be able to parley anglais, even un petit pur, when they were in the back of the car yesterday they were singing along to something on the radio, in English. So I think that I might have discovered something here. A universal language, like Esperanto, but something, unlike Esperanto, that works. Yes, song lyrics. We could communicate through the medium of contemporary song lyrics as they seem to know these in English (the universal language I might point out). What do you think?
At this point I was going to post the lyrics of the Maurice Chevalier song ‘Thank Heavens For Little Girls’, but on reflection I refer you to the last sentence of the first paragraph!
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2 comments:
You know I said I was coming to visit you? suddenly I find I'm very busy right now and can't make it. Sorry perhaps next time...
I knew someone who could speak Esperanto, as far as I could tell you just added an "o" to the end of each noun, and the rest sounded a bit Welsh cum Spanish.
Allergic to Cod and Chips!?, thats hell on earth.
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