J'y vais plus!

J'y vais plus au Givet, yipee or should that be youpi. For the past three months I have risked life and limb careering around in a company Clio trying to be on time for a lesson in Givet. I finshed up in Charleville at 3pm and has this lesson at 4pm. Seeing as it takes 1 1/4 hours to get there it was never going to be possible. "But we can't keep the client waiting" says my boss. So I took the mad 45° turns with very little care for my own safety and with the 50€ I earn per lesson keeping my foot firmly on the acerlerator.

The problem was the Clio - combined with the ridicuous Amalfi Coast type roads. I don't like Clios. You take you life into your own hands just trying to get round the dashboard, hunting for example, for the windscreen wipers which are hidden behind the radio controls which are behind the steering wheel. How interesting, volume is more important that vision. How French.

'The French' (sweeping statement, I know, but I get it all the time. I suppose that should stop me, nevermind) are a bit funny about cars, that's funny peculiar. Example, Frenchman to his femme: "where did I put the keys for the 406." Englishman to his wife: " where did I put the car keys." Have you got it? The model, be it a Twingo or a Porsche, is what counts. I have no idea what the deep rooted pyscological reasons for . It's just like that.

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...