Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

French Letter The Trois

It turns out The Boy's a bit of savant when it comes to languages, and can speak almost fluent French which was a surprise to both of us. He did teach me the basics, nine words that would get me out of any scrape I was in. You say them and five minutes later the waiter comes back with two Kir Royales! It's magic!

I have never understood French as a language; as you can tell my grasp of the English language is more of a stranglehold. I finally Took Against it when my charming Geordie teacher (which will explain why my wobbly french accent is via Newcastle and I still say things like "Je voudrais, pet") said, when asked, that there was no way to predict the genders of words. You simply had to learn it.

Well sod that, I thought at my tender coming-of-age. I can't absorb all that and the latest incoming technology as predicted by Dame Maggie Philbin on 'Tomorrow's World'. Something had to give, and that my darling viewers, was the language of our garlic-loving brothers. Thusly it was the only GCSE I got with a below-C grading and, lets face it, you have to be as retarded as whichever of the Spears children have been sucking down the mercury out of thermometers this week to fail one of those.

So instead of coming up against arsey French tour guides, we just walking the city and taking pictures, stopping in cafes and ordering champagne. Have a rest, a drink, then off again. Bliss! Though it did mean the pictures towards the end of the day thusly had a certain... avant garde approach.

ie fucked up.

Still, we happened to get in the background of the 10 o'clock French news by wandering past the Eiffel Tower at the right moment, careering about and trying to take a shot of what we thought was the Tower with our squinting drunken eyes. Turned out to be a novelty litter bin that was a lot closer than we thought. We didn't realise we'd been captured til we got back to the hotel and saw the repeat of the report and The Boy took a shine to the delightful slacks one of the embarrassing English tourists were wearing in the back of the shot. Oh well. We should be ambassadors, we really should.

1 comment:

Qenny said...

Ambassadors? You're really spoiling us!