18/01/2009 by Brigid.

Despite the obvious linguistic challenges of teaching English to a class of children too young to read, early feedback seems positive. The introduction of “Head, shoulders, knees and toes” was something of a coup. I don’t know whether it is the simplicity of the song with its accompanying actions, or the sight of me doing them, that amuses the children so much. But, even though I get in a bit of a muddle as the music gets faster, touching my toes instead of my ears, and despite one or two of the children over-balancing and falling over, it gives us all a good workout, and guarantees their complete attention for at least 10 minutes.

Bizarrely, for me, I noticed a curious reticence at first, on the part of the parents, to engage in conversation with the “Prof”. True, I do dress more formally than usual for the class, and, following a tip from a friend, wear my specs rather than contact lenses – better for peering over and looking stern – but the reality is that my lack of experience means that I am very much acting the rôle. Even so, judging by the gushing thanks as they swept up their kids after the first couple of classes, I must be due an Oscar. We have all seen this sort of behaviour before when we, ourselves, were at school … that awkward meeting with the Principal, whenever our parents were summoned to explain some deficiency in our upbringing.

May be my disguise is wearing thin, but things seem to be easing a bit. Last week’s class started with Sophie’s mum explaining that, although Sophie appeared to have learned quite a few English words, she did not feel like repeating them today, thank you! Unfortunately, it transpired that the previous week Sophie had delighted in telling her astonished parents that she had been learning all about the fesse.  To her surprise and frustration, instead of congratulating her, both parents burst into laughter. As neither speak English, it took Sophie several minutes until they finally understood that she now knew the English names for parts of the face. It was only a slight mispronounciation, after all. In French, les fesses are buttocks …

In the same vein, a Welsh friend of ours was mystified as to why one of the local bar owners gave him an odd look whenever he said “merci beaucoup”.  It took a while before it became apparent that, instead of prounouncing beaucoup with a nice round oo sound (as in ‘cool’), he was emphasising the u (as in ‘queue’). This had the effect of turning beaucoup into beau cul, or “nice arse”!

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01/01/2009 by Brigid.

Phew! There goes Christmas for another year and here comes 2009. This year, for a change, we have resolved to lose weight, get fit, learn French, decorate the house, and generally be more social and out-going! All this, you understand, on a shrinking budget.

As I write, the BBC economics page lists the value of the Euro as £0.9563. Commentators have been predicting parity by the New Year for months, but it looks increasingly as if the Euro might actually overtake Sterling. Shocking. Especially for those of us living on pensions generated in the UK. Since we moved to France in July 2007, the value of the Pound Sterling against the Euro has dropped by nearly 30%, meaning a reduction of over 750€ per month in John’s pension in real terms.

Even so, things aren’t as dire as you might think. Our reduced income has just meant that our lifestyle isn’t quite as we envisaged when we first moved down. We are being forced to get creative. On the plus side, I am discovering economical recipes for things like beef shin stew and dusting off what I learned in the “make do and mend” class at school. Before you know it, I’ll be signing up for the local WI branch!

Another reason to be cheerful is that I have got myself a little part-time voluntary job teaching English to a small class of 3 to 5 year old children. I have no children of my own, but then I was never one to let lack of experience stand in my way. Luckily, English mother-tongue was the only essential qualification.

I’ll admit the first class was a bit scary, but subsequent sessions have been a joy. In our last, I got the children to make an English-style Christmas card for their parents. Christmas cards are not common in France, so there were a few bemused faces as I explained that we were going to colour in a snowman figure and dress him in a scarf, hat and gloves, then cut him out and stick him on a folded card with a greeting inside.

Only a couple of the kids felt confident enough to cut out the snowman and his clothes. Most, like Axel, finished colouring-in and brought their masterpiece to me to cut out and assemble. Unfortunately, I snipped off one his snowman’s arms. “Ooops”, I said mildly, suppressing the urge to swear. “Comment est-ce qu’on dit ‘Zut!’ en anglais?”, said Axel, as I hastily stuck it back on. Bless him.

Happy New Year to you all.

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