Le Question

Frankly, I’m still a bit flummoxed by the fact we don’t seem to be meeting French people. We came to France for this very purpose. “Je swee un European” to misquote President Kennedy. And if I am – and Monica of course – to be Europeans we need to meet and integrate with other Europeans. Which in our case are our French neighbours. However the fact of the matter is that nearly all our neighbours are English. We had no idea when we plumped for Rosbif-sur-Lie that it would be full of “les anglais” but it seems that it is. Only old Pierre, he of the snaggle teeth and silent gestures, seems to represent the local French. There’s M. Coq, the mayor, of course, and the denizens of the bar and “Le chasse” but we haven’t really tried the bar and I don’t think I’m up for hunting. Apparently, the hunters spend their time shooting each other, so it doesn’t seem a good idea.
Monica and I were chatting about this last night over a glass or two of vin rouge and we came to the conclusion that perhaps if we were to learn to speak French it might be easier. Most of the French can speak some English, naturally, but it seems only polite to learn some of their lingo. Jeff, my source of local information, says there’s a jolly good class every Thursday night over in Bonville, which is only about twenty miles away. We’re definitely going to sign up. I’m sure in no time we’ll both be speaking like natives.