French France beckons
I'm going skiing next week, did I mention? I did? Sorry.
So if you're a burglar, now is the time to work out whom (grammar) I am and where I live. I'm afraid you'll be sadly disappointed once you got inside, though. And the alarm's going to be on. And the neighbours are on alert. And the neighbour's a big aggressive bugger. But apart from that, go for your life.
I phoned up France today, to leave a credit card deposit for the kids' ski lessons. I have been working myself up to this since yesterday afternoon, when an email came saying, uh, phone up and leave a credit card deposit. I worked in France for a bit in my gap years [errata (pl): for 'worked' read 'dossed about selling doughnuts on the beach'; for 'gap years' read 'years between failing A-levels and retaking them'] and developed a bit of conversational French as a matter of necessity. Are you reading, Mr Johnston? You who said 'Hopeless. You'll never be able to get by in France, boy' in about 1981? What a wanker you were. God, I'd forgotten all about you until this moment.
So anyway, I had a few useful phrases prepared. 'Good morning', 'You sent me an email yesterday' and 'I wish to leave a deposit for the ski lessons for my children for next week' and stuff like that. I'm pretty sure they were right. Deep breath. Rang the very long number beginning 0033.
'Bonjour, ecole du ski.'
'Bonjour. Erm, erm .... je desire ....parlez-vous ....parlez ....uh .... does anybody speak English?'
'Of course sir, my name is Pascale, how can I help?'
Arse. At least she sounded fit. I guess I'll let you know whether she is or not when I get back.
So if you're a burglar, now is the time to work out whom (grammar) I am and where I live. I'm afraid you'll be sadly disappointed once you got inside, though. And the alarm's going to be on. And the neighbours are on alert. And the neighbour's a big aggressive bugger. But apart from that, go for your life.
I phoned up France today, to leave a credit card deposit for the kids' ski lessons. I have been working myself up to this since yesterday afternoon, when an email came saying, uh, phone up and leave a credit card deposit. I worked in France for a bit in my gap years [errata (pl): for 'worked' read 'dossed about selling doughnuts on the beach'; for 'gap years' read 'years between failing A-levels and retaking them'] and developed a bit of conversational French as a matter of necessity. Are you reading, Mr Johnston? You who said 'Hopeless. You'll never be able to get by in France, boy' in about 1981? What a wanker you were. God, I'd forgotten all about you until this moment.
So anyway, I had a few useful phrases prepared. 'Good morning', 'You sent me an email yesterday' and 'I wish to leave a deposit for the ski lessons for my children for next week' and stuff like that. I'm pretty sure they were right. Deep breath. Rang the very long number beginning 0033.
'Bonjour, ecole du ski.'
'Bonjour. Erm, erm .... je desire ....parlez-vous ....parlez ....uh .... does anybody speak English?'
'Of course sir, my name is Pascale, how can I help?'
Arse. At least she sounded fit. I guess I'll let you know whether she is or not when I get back.
posted by crisiswhatcrisis at
10:36 am
1 Comments:
hello!
I suppose one of my doubts/beliefs at the moment is around whether or not these comments just fly off my screen into some blogpurgatory (is that the right place?) rather than the heavenly place a blogger's inbox must be to (un)wanted comments. . .
perhaps I have faith and believe they end up being read, crisisornot, because otherwise I wouldn't write them, would I?
(bit like praying really!)
have a great time in France (just came back from abroad myself, comes flooding back, 'O'-level French)(even in a country where it is not the foreign language they speak)
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I, Like The View, at 12:19 pm
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