Le Bon Voyage

So its from the Merse to L'Isle de France via National Express and Eurostar. The simple pleasures of merging into the French Suburban scene: the trek to the boulongier for croissants chocolat, getting lost in the huge Carrefours-I'll meet you at the Horse meat, if you can remember where that was. The pleasure of using one's schoolboy French in search of Gallic Culture 'Es que Vous avez La Guardian' and 'Et L'Observer on trouve ici aprez 10 heures La Dimanche?' ' Desole M'sier Il-y-a seulement un Mail on Sunday-edition Ecosse' -Canard* that for a lark. Fortunately, unlike Paris proper the people of Isle de France are patient with the abuse of their tongue, and in L'etang la Ville, they are used to the British settlers and their simple pleasures. And toujours la politesse. Never omit the Bon Jour or the Monsieur/Madame, and the merci beaucoup. or the Pardon when some geezer barges past you on the Metro to grab the last available seat. One does not want to give the impression that we are not a race of hommes gentils. 'Un futball 'ooligan? Anglais? 'Ce N'est pas possible. Tous les 'ooligans sont Allemand or Italiens. Ne c'est pas?'

And don't mention the Rugby World Cup

* Slang rhyming: Canard equals Duck. Geddit? Blog-ed

I am endebted to Old Grey Wolf for the image taken during my last visit. I wonder how that would go down on the outskirts of Hutton?

Labels: English in Paris, Paris

  ¶ 4:30 PM