French lessons

Just when I think I have mastered the art of speaking French something happens which makes me realise I am by no means fluent.  This morning found me frantically searching through the dictionary to look up the correct words for ‘limping’, ‘collapsing after a few steps’ and ‘quivering with pain’ before taking the dog for an emergency appointment with the vet. I coped pretty well with the Vet’s questions regarding the dog’s condition over the weekend – luckily it was fairly easy to guess what he was talking about when he asked if she had produced any ‘crottes’.  This was also the first time I have noticed that ‘Sentir’ means ‘To Smell’ and also ‘To Feel’ but I assume the vet understood when I said that I couldn’t feel anything wrong with the dog’s leg.  Unfortunately he could feel something and I learned a new expression “Sub luxation d’Epaule” – “Dislocated Shoulder”.  The prescription was for anti-inflammatories but, most important of all, she must rest as much as possible for TWO WHOLE WEEKS.  No running, no jumping, no playing, just accompanied visits into the garden when necessary.  The vet admitted that this would be very difficult with a Border Collie and wished me ‘courage’ as we left the surgery – I didn’t need a dictionary to realise that this meant ‘Good luck, you’re going to need it”!

Once I had manhandled her back into the car (an undignified experience for both of us) I decided that as she was technically ‘resting’ I might as well carry on with my plans to visit a kitchen designer in Ceret.  This visit proved yet again how little French I know as I struggled to produce the right words for sink, worktop, corner-cupboard, extractor unit etc.  I nearly selected the more expensive granite worktops as I didn’t know the word for MDF, however, I struggled on and we had the makings of a good kitchen plan when he asked (or so I thought) if I wanted the ‘Peinture’.  At first I thought he was talking about the decoration but then he grabbed hold of a plastic baguette from a display and then said “Pain-tire” (Bread Pull) (or so I thought).  In fact he was talking about a Panetier, a special cupboard with an upright canvas bag inside which allows you to store your baguette safely.  Obviously this has gone on the plan.

So, I now feel as if I have had a morning of intensive French lessons – and have learned a great deal.  There is no better way of learning a language than in having to speak it in real situations and I highly recommend ‘total immersion’.  Don’t worry about making mistakes - many, if not most (in my experience) of the French locals here don’t speak any other language so are genuinely impressed if you can speak even a little French and they are only too keen to help you get the sentence right.  Instead of trying to track down an English-speaking dentist, hair-dresser, or kitchen-designer, why not just give it a go in French.  What’s the worst that could happen – granite worktops?!

Mad Englishmen and Dogs....

On Monday my husband fell in love and on Wednesday he left me. OK it is a dog and he has left for a pre-planned trip  back to the UK but it got you reading!   ‘Getting a dog’ was always something we had vaguely talked about but I always thought I was the keen one – until last weekend when I mentioned to my husband that the SPA were having an Open Day, and to my surprise he said that we might as well go as there was ‘no harm in looking’.  Fairly typically there was a barbecue and a Zumbaa demonstration going on so most of the dogs were in a state of hysteria, but then we saw ‘her’ sitting expectantly with a ball in her mouth.  My husband looked into those brown limpid eyes (as he had once done with me, many years ago) and I knew we were in trouble!  There was no request for a house visit by the refuge, we didn’t have the necessary ‘proof of residence’, we didn’t even have a collar and lead but 10 minutes later we were driving home with Loulou in the back of the car in a state of shock (us not her)!

Apart from falling into the pond within 5 minutes of arriving she settled in very well and quickly taught my husband to play fetch, go for walks on command and turn the water sprinkler on so she could jump in the spray.  But on the Wednesday he had to fly back to the UK and I was left in charge.

 

Dogs are welcomed in many places in France so I thought a visit to the pet shop would be a good place to start; they were very kind about the fact that she peed on the floor.  Evening walks around the neighbouring vineyards have to be carefully timed to avoid meeting the man with the gun and the four hunting dogs.  A walk around the local lake had to be curtailed due to her obsession with the ducks.  The trip to the beach was obviously her first view of the sea – and a new experience for me as, rather than lying in the sun I was running up and down shouting her name as she ran off towards Spain for 10 minutes.  Lunch was also a different experience as, rather than choosing a restaurant by what was on the menu I was looking for somewhere that Loulou could settle quietly (ie not in view of the sea or seagulls).  And here I had another problem – whilst reading the menu I kept stroking her as she lay quietly at my feet and then had no idea how to leave her to go and wash my hands but then the waitress arrived with the carafe of water (I had always wondered what that was for!)

Morning lie-ins are now just a distant memory, I haven’t worn anything smart for days now, I am, filthy, exhausted, covered in licks, and extremely happy!