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French Lessons

© Lucia Foster-Found 2022 www.luciafosterfound.com

An autumn ‘vacance’, the first for years. Yet again she promised herself that her French would be better next time - pretty sure she’d told the campsite’s aquafit instructor that she was ‘bored’, not ‘trying’… And Himself’s could do with a little work. In a tabac, buying cigars for a friend, he’d flexed that old standby; speak English loudly and slowly. And point. But when he’d also affected a French accent and said “can ah av un box uf cigarrs pliz,” she’d had to abandon him. Stifling hysterics, she’d feared for her bladder. It had been September – the sun surprisingly hot. Clusters of tourists moved unhurriedly here and there in the shimmering heat. More than a few were licking ice cream cones as they sauntered along the dusty street, idly surveying the souvenirs at roadside stalls. She and Himself were strolling towards the lighthouse museum and, as she gazed up at the towering structure, she noticed that the flag was flying at half-mast. The thought flitted through her mind “I wonder who…?” before she realised. “Look!” She pointed up at the Tricolore which hung half way up the flagpole, the blue, white and red vertical stripes stirring slowly in the warm breeze. “For the Queen?” He asked in amazement. They’d not been as fully immersed in the public grieving as those back at home, but the French had revealed a surprising sense of their own loss. When the holidaymakers caught sight of the TV news, invariably it was concerning the death of the Queen. Even across most of the papers; one, Le Parisien, had headlined ‘We loved her so much.’ “Who knew?” Himself shook his head in astonishment. The next day whilst casting off the beach, they were approached by curious French onlookers, asking how many fish they’d caught. Her laughing answer “rien” brought forth Gallic shrugs and smiles. As the group turned away, they said in English, “we are very sorry about your Queen,” making heart shapes with their hands. She’d surprised even herself by bursting into tears. If the ‘botte’ had been on the other ‘pied’, she hoped that Brits would have been as sensitive. Had they been in England and not France, she’d have queued for the Queen’s lying in State. Fortunately though, Beckham did it for her; she queued vicariously through and with him and hoped they’d exchanged numbers. Fanciful, but anything seemed possible. The world had turned upside down - the Queen was dead. In spite of the underlying sorrow she felt every time she looked at the news, they had a wonderful holiday. It didn’t seem like years since the last one, although the eye-watering cost of two beers in a bar suggested that both time and the exchange rate had not stood still. French pride in all things French had not altered, however. Himself mentioned the word subsidies, but no denying the campsite was filled with Renaults, Peugeots and Citroens. And French ingenuity had marched on. “Look Darling, there’s a vending machine for cartons of live oysters, complete with a lemon, should your shellfish addiction need a fix at three in the morning.” And then there was the French respect for their environment; though every inch of sand had been littered with French bodies the colour of mahogany, not one scrap of rubbish was left on the beach. And no bins. “Impressive.” Himself said enviously. “A bit different from Bournemouth – bet French metal detectorists don’t just find cans, bottle tops and tent pegs.” On the long, smooth drive to the return ferry, she observed, “And I haven’t missed that exciting slalom of pothole dodging we do so enjoy back home.” “Missed what Darling?” Himself was distracted. He went on without waiting for an answer, “um, thankfully you didn’t notice, but once or twice I almost caught myself speaking English with a French accent. That would have been embarrassing. I’ll need a few French Lessons before our next trip.” Thinking of the clean beaches, the smooth roads, the patriotism, the respect and the sympathy – she said, “French lessons? It ‘Gaul’s me to say it, but I think we just had some...”