Corporal Punishment

Bring it back I say. Blimey, there are times I'd like to ...

One of them told me I was mesquine because I wanted to punish him because he'd been messing about too much. I had to go and look that one up in the dictionary just to be sure. Apparently it means mean or petty, I have to say I thought it was worse than that, which is why I when to the headmaster so he could give them all a thorough bollocking in firm authoritive French. Ooops, quelle mesquine. Oh, they derserved it!

Got a fringe today. Is that good or bad?

One day I will tell you about the student who had drunk to much vodka. My student, but not my vodka.

Cucumbers? That must be a French thing

I work in a 'centre de formation' where we form embryo chefs, waiters, waitresses, beauticians, hairdressers, butchers, bakers and shop assitants. No candle makers, sorry. If I'm in a complimentary mood I'd call it a school, otherwise it's just a holiday camp. And quite understandably. My students work for two weeks then come to school for a rest. Then they are inconvenienced by teachers who want them to listen in lessons and even expect homework to be done from time to time. To expect them to learn English seems to be the last straw in most cases. If it will help them translate their computre games then, ça va, but if you want them to learn a bit of grammar - Madame, vous abusez!

Then there is the fact that I'm Anglaise. This leaves me open to all sorts of ridicule. I'm sure fellow 'rost bif' will agree with me that they find themselves personaly responsible for the burning of Joan of Arc, the war in Iraq, Tony Blair and Jelly. Foreign teachers such as myself have, perhaps, a harder time than others. Teenagers are the harshest of critics, they do not mince their words. They can also be quite thick, does this come from their parents? 'Stupidist question of all time award' asked by an embryo chef "You have cucumbers in England, Madame?" Then of course there is "You have cheese? No!" Whatever my reply might be the rejoinder is always the same: "vous etes bizarre en angleterre, vous" (bizarre =weird) and I am obliged to defend myself. Not bizarre, different. I'm going to do myself a t-shirt. Save time and breath.

I am sorry to say that my colleagues are des fois worse than the students. And they should no better! Shouldn't they... But they can't help themselves, they are French they are supposed to deteste the English and their strange culinary ways. I rue the day and would happily punch the person who started the rumour that the French make the best lovers. I have to live with the results, and it's not pretty. But then perhaps I shouldn't be so harsh on them, it's in the blood. Brits are the same. Now my Uncle for one...

Let me introduce...

Already demanding photos - a little patience please I'm new at this.

May I introduce you to Holly - or the crevette, nicknamed such for her enormous size. Do not be deceived, this creature can get up on the table simply with the help of a chair three times higher than her. Simply jump, jam head in front of the backrest and wiggle at lot. There you are, a 'minus' on top of the world and with the pickings of everything the silly humans left on the table. She is in fact Belgian, not a plus in the eyes of the French but at least she's cute ( that helps her get away with lots, like peeing everywhere, even in the boyfriend's mother's immaculate kitchen).

And this is La grosse! Or Bella, as you wish, who left us a decapitated shrew between our pillows this morning. A touching gift. As the angel pointed out, she gave all that she can give. Which makes it even more touching really.

Here goes nothing

Let's see if I can get this to work. Not being a blog officionado (I didn't know what they were until last Friday) this is an experiment, be it wise or otherwise. Since Friday the ideas have been formulating themselves into real if not slightly intrepid motivation.

Don't expect juicy tales of Gallic adventures experienced by mouse. She just wants to talk to the guys back home, post the odd picture of the dog or progress report of the decorating. Perhaps even racont des conneries of my students. Don't worry, there won't be too much French, I avoid writing it at all costs and there are sure to be spelling mistakes in the English too. I find that happens more and more. I used to be quite an articulate kind of girl, now I find myself wondering about the word umbrella in front of the blackboard, my back to a bunch of giggling teenagers.

So, here I am. Dear family, let me know what you think, but be nice. And perhaps someone will explain what a blog is to Granny, too daunting a task for me!