(For this one, I'd better change my name to "Losesome". (No one ever called me winsome.)
Just a quick note from France. In the words of Edward Heath, “ayant un merveilleux temps!” It’s wonderful how easily O-level French comes back to me.
Driving in Paris is a nightmare - it’s an endless confiture de trafic. Apparently the Mayor of Paris is a bit of a Nancy, which is presumably why it’s called “Gai Paris”.
At the restaurant yesterday, I wanted to call the waiter, and remembered the word “Garcon”. But it was a waitress, so I used the feminine form “Garce!” I still don’t understand why the manager threw me out.
I’m off to the South of France tomorrow - I’m looking forward to wearing my snazzy new tronc de bain. And of course, the French kiss each other all the time. Apparently, to get a friendly kiss from one of those topless beauties at Saint-Tropez, all you have to say is “Bonjour, mademoiselle, je voudrais vous baiser.”
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