Well here I am again en France. The deed is done, our land is sold and a pact has now been made with the devil. Having complained for years in a rather English way about the lack of style and green awareness of the French lotissements we find ourselves strapped for cash and needing to do repairs to the old and rambling Bergerie we call home. Now we are faced with two houses of dubious design being built right before our very eyes. We can’t complain any longer, we have accepted the money. We must now shut up and get on with it. It came as some surprise to realise that actually we’re still very fond of the old place, despite the fact that the electricity goes off at the drop of a hat. It even goes off when there’s nothing on at all and all the plugs are removed from the wall. We received an offer for the place a few weeks ago and had come round to thinking we should sell up. We come back down and hey presto, no we’re not selling we are staying, which is why at 6.30am the alarm has been going off calling us not to prayer but to French conversation with a German teacher. We are trying to make the effort, it’s only taken eight years.
Ships Log - Day Two
I’m feeling decidedly ropey this morning. My internal clock went off at 3am as usual and I found myself sitting bolt upright in bed trying to remember anything that I learnt in French yesterday. It’s impossible. At this time in the morning the only word I can recall is canoë which sounds nice, but is not the most useful word to add to my small list. It won’t get me fed in a restaurant, bumped up to first class or rescued in my moment of crisis. The other word I can instantly remember is cocquelicot, the word for poppy. Well that’s it, no need for extra lessons. I’m fluent.
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