Читать книгу Our House is Definitely Not in Paris - Susan Cutsforth - Страница 11

Our petite maison is now a well-known part of our life and everyone we know assumes — of course — that I must be taking French lessons. I know that I should be. After all, do I not have another French life now? However, as with everything in my crowded life, there simply does not seem to be the time for such a luxury. Mind you, many would see it is a matter of necessity, as I do also have a house in a little French village, where I do most definitely want to be accepted and a part of life once a year. My ineptitude with grasping the intricacies of French means that I turn to the internet in an attempt to gain an insight into how I can perhaps feign some degree of familiarity with French.

First, I learn that the first and most important part of how to ‘fake’ the French accent is the ‘r’ sound. Apparently, according to my research — for research is certainly part of my skill-set — you push your tongue to the back of your throat as if pronouncing a 'gee' sound. I attempt to practise this aloud as I drive to work at home. It seems to be the only time I can find to devote to such essential activities. I listen to the results and can only conclude that I truly can’t get the hang of it.

The next internet research lesson that I decide to devote myself to, on my drive to and from work each day, is that the ‘h' in words should always be silent. Since I know so few French words, I struggle to think of any with ‘h’. Ah, haute couture. That should do the trick. Not that in my other French life I have occasion to even contemplate haute couture. Let’s remember that at the end of the day, it is a life of rénovée.

Next lesson. I find out that when you pronounce ‘e’ you draw them out for as long as possible. It is again fortunate that I am alone in the car. Memories of the squealing pigs at feeding time in Cuzance are the closest I seem to be able to manage. Strike that attempt off the list.

Right, what’s next on the unique how-to-fake-French accent that I have cleverly devised for myself? I learn that in French, it is imperative to always stress the last syllable of a sentence, or before you pause, with a rising intonation, as if you are asking a question. Since I can only manage the most basic and essential of phrases and requests, like ‘Où est la boulangerie?’, ‘Where is the boulangerie?’, perhaps I can just manage this. Then again, perhaps not. It’s one thing practising alone in my car, and another thing actually attempting this in Paris.

I move on to my next self-created petite French language guide. I now learn that ‘th’ is pronounced as a ‘z’. Once again I struggle to recall a single word in my very limited vocabulary that may fit this particular linguistic trick. Perhaps I will check with Stuart on this exacting requirement. As with the myriad of things I always seem to be pursuing, he is puzzled by what I am up to now.

I decide to move right along to the next trick I am attempting to learn to fit into my French life. I hasten to add it has now been a matter of weeks to and from work that I have been conducting my secret French lessons. What an ambitious dream it now seems. To step off the plane in Paris and engage in scintillating repartee. Perhaps this is a ploy that I can cunningly incorporate into my ever-stumbling French attempts. To fully assimilate into the French way of life, apparently all you have to do is toss in a lot of ‘euh’s. This seems to be the clinching key to faking French. I learn from the master of all knowledge, the internet, that it is the equivalent of inserting lots of ‘umms’ or ‘ahhs’ into conversation. Ostensibly, it fools people into believing that you are completely au fait with the language, and you are merely pausing and reflecting on what you will next say. I decide to abandon all my well-intentioned plans when I discover that you are supposed to end your pronunciation on a sound about halfway between, but not allow your accent to hint at, the ‘oh’ sound.

So much for my French lessons. I aim to learn French when I retire, as surely then I will have time. How many more years we will then be able to undertake the exhausting, arduous flight is another matter altogether. Finally, I will be fluent when our French life becomes a fading memory. Possibly fluent, that is.

Parisian model

Hard at work again