Categories: uncategorized
Date: 17 November 2004 20:28:42
The phone call to Grannie was conducted to a background of "Mother! Where did you put the A--------L Br----s, I brought back from France??!" from little Miff. When I stumbled across said mammaries on the study floor the other day, I'd assumed they were props for Ms Miff's forthcoming school house evening. Well, you'd expect to find them in a Monty Python sketch, wouldn't you? But no, Mstr Miff arrives home from his educational sojourn at Lycee Jules Ferry clutching a pannini, bottle of wine for us, bottle of 'Etoile' scent for his sister's 18th, and ...well, I left him to shake out his own rucksack. Some things are best ignored. And I'd fond visions of earnest teens conducting serious philosophical discussions far into the night. Needless to say this has been rapidly replaced by the more prosaic sight of a crowd of yelling boys and girls waving at the departing coach as their British counterparts press their faces (and les seins artificiel) up against the back window.
So, a good time was had by all, apparently. Mstr Miff found his childhood French returning rapidly, and was chattering away fluently by the end of the week. (He had to help out their French teacher at one point!). And he's looking forward to the return fixture. I gather that the French family live in a village in some sort of semi communal setup with their next door neighbours, (whose son has also been over here a number of times). Little Miff has been enthusing about the wonders of traditional French family life and has shown us a snap of Mme X, posing next to the family donkey. After that, the Miffyabode is going to be a bit of a shock, I think! Our dear son has expressed an unwonted interest as to our plans (or lack of) for any internal decoration before the end of January. "When are we going to have that wood flooring put down in the hall?" The poor soul's worried that little X won't fully appreciate the parfum de chien (et chat) which pervades our ancient green axminster. I've assured him that we'll send Miffdog over to kennels for the full beauty treatment before the French party hit British soil, and that I'll do a carpet shampoo in honour of his honoured guest.
He's declined my generous offer to cook them traditional lumpy porridge with golden syrup for breakfast, however. I really don't know why!