Hanging in there

Bonjour, c’est moi, er, again.

It’s day four of our seven-day French sojourn and it’s a case of so far so bonne. 

I must say, it’s taking me a while to adapt to the crazy French ways, hugely impressive though they are.

Man do they love their bicyclettes.

They’re everywhere and, even more remarkable, no one seems to nick them.

Bread is also an obvious favourite, alongside sneering at our pitiful attempts to speak their lingo.

Today Jamie combined the two by ordering a baguette in French for lunch.

He did very well, before the mademoiselle who served him felt the need to demonstrate that her English was better than any of ours. 

But, keen to please our hosts, we will keep trying. 

Charlotte got her hair done in an effort to blend in.

Even though it did turn out all David Beckham.

She also bought some French Toast.

I remembered them being bigger when I was a kid and, a little earlier, Jamie upsized.

Goodness knows how we’re going to get through 72 in just four breakfast times but, at €2.20 a packet, what’s not to like (apart from yet another piece of French toast)?

We’ve been to a couple more shows since my last update. The first was a “Welcome Party” featuring the reps...

...supported by the French mafia.

And last night we were treated to a Sikh magician with an S&M fetish.

Tonight’s primary evening entertainment has a “diamonds” theme and earlier we overhead the sound check which was a Shirley Bassey number. I think we all know where this is likely to go.  Yes, downhill. But there are also suggestions of an Irish turn playing in the bar so we might give that a craic (can you see what I did there?)

One last observation before I say au revoir for now. Health and safety. Back in the UK, in the unlikely event of an emergency, we’re used to being told to proceed calmly and in an orderly fashion to the nearest exit. The guidance seems to be a tad different in France and much less collegiate. 

It’s run like f***.

Bonsoir.