Fifty shades of socks...

They say, the thing to do as a writer, is finish where you know what you are about to write next. It makes the process of writing easier to restart. Problem is, I forgot to do that, so the blog has suffered with the 'and then' syndrome.
This is a well known phenomena to all primary teachers, who, despite intensive work on conjunctives and viewing examples of  writers  use of words, the children still write their story with the same repetition of 'And then.. And then.' 
So, I thought I'd start with a news item I saw, referring to the idea of micro chipping socks, so as to avoid that constant, post wash mini trauma of hunt the sock /match the pair.
Now my husband & I have differently tried to overcome this irritation; I by buying colour matched (toe & heel) socks and Ron by buying simply black socks. Problem is neither really work; the former method still leaves socks astray and the latter is confounded by the variety of blacks and shades thereof.  
So when I asked the French children to complete a simple 'Match the Sock' exercise to practise spoken directions, sizes and colour language, I was taken back by the answer..."Pourquoi Madam..." That, 'Why Madam?', seemed to indicate that the chic of French fashion does not stretch to having matching socks, but then part of that chic is a myth.
Well high fashion chic might be true on the Parisian Catwalks or the boulevards of Lyon, but not rural France. Where last did you see, pink ladies corsets, bloomer pants, wrap around aprons and a selection of sensible Crimpline dresses, but  in any one of several of our  local rural markets? As I said to my husband,if you ever find me looking at such stalls with intense interest, please shoot me.
So I'll finish, 'where I know what I am about to write next, the reasons so many 'Brits love the sleepy French rural ways', and then,I'll go back to my shades of socks.
Well, you have to admit, the title caught your attention...

Well I never expected to hear that...

Children can be very direct with words. Sometimes its just that they don't think or predict ahead, but often its because the content is more important than the effect it might have on the listener. Par example, we recently visited our near French neighbours  who have two small children under four,to deliver belated Christmas gifts. 

Now perhaps first I should explain that my other half is a bearded gent with a life long passion for motor bikes and that he frequently passes this family's house and waves to them.I thought that convincing these small children that, my grey bearded husband was an English Pere Noel arriving late, would be easy.

Not so, my whispered assurances were met with wide eyed incredulity by the eldest boy Noah. Fetching a toy red motor bike ,we had previously bought for him, he informed me in clear & confident French "Non,regarde la moto ,c'est Ron". It could have been straight out of 'Allo, Allo', except he didn't add ' you stupid woman...!'


" Ron,ron,ron" , Noah asserted, as he went round the room riding his imaginary bike; the onomatopoeic meaning of my hubands name never having registered or been relevant to me before

This got me thinking about how we deliver & receive language and how sometimes this can have amazing outcomes.So perhaps this was why I only responded with mild surprise, when an English friend  (Jenny), whilst discussing the banking & investment  situation came out with a rather unexpected phrase.
Referring to anti-inflationary ideas  she said, " well I just thought I'll buy a troglodyte cave...then a forest,but I settled on watches". Turns out this bizarre combintion of phrases made perfect logical sense when explained in terms of alternative investments, but I honestly never thought I' d hear that!

More recently ,I phoned our son   Tom & in the conversation asked him , 'what he was up to?' "Well right now", he in formed me, "I'm currently cleaning Roman coins with a cotton bud & bees wax". He is actually an amateur coin collector, but this was another conversation stopper, just try to follow that.

So in the wintry conditions driving back up through the UK on Friday it struck me that words can be regionally different, either more subtle or more direct. From the Hampshire & Berkshire motorway warnings 'Severe Weather Conditions Today'   to the  M6 direct northern instructional statement of, 'Snow, Slow Down!'.

And now snow bound in the Staffordshire Peaks,the snow has us all huddled around laptops & the social network is afire with images of  a snowman called Jim who was made on Sunday by two friends Graham & Nina. The scoop of the week came with Graham announcing earlier today;

 ' I'm choking back the emotion ...... Jim has been asked to do a phot-shoot for the local newspaper (Leek Post & Times) .

Well I never expected to hear that...
Perhaps with language, its not where it starts from, but where  the words end up.

Age before beauty

New year, new beginnings made me stop & think about age. Children count years in quarters & halves, do you remember when six and a half was a big deal ? And then in your teens, how thirty seemed ancient and at twenty, how you couldn't imagine wanting to live beyond forty... really over the hill? Well I think youthfulness is all relative.
Example in point, a recent eye operation for pigmentary glaucoma, not exactly desirable, but essential if I didn't want to loose my sight. So why in the midst of the explanation from the ophthalmologist am I really pleased to be told its a 'young ailment' and thrilled, on giving my date of birth,when the nurse questions this, "really you can't be!" Then, at the point just prior to the op, when I should have been focused on the medical stuff, am I pleased when the medics are slightly nonplussed because they have to ask me about menstrual issues because of my age.

Then there was the Tesco self service machine which would not accept the bottle of Chardonnay  I had amongst my shopping. According to the attendant it was verifying that I was over 18, "fine , I'll take that as a compliment" I said, to the not amused assistant. Well every little helps as the Tesco ad line says.Couple of days later Christmas shopping at Asda  and repeat performance. 'I know, its checking I'm over 18" I commented to the hurried supervisor, "no, it requires input to say you are over 25", she said humorlessly. Well that's OK by me.

Finally,the French school children & the beauty of their  innocence when talking about age and  I joked "well of course I'm 21!" Not as cynical,, as their English counterparts, they simply smiled back at me.

Well I think the children have it right, ignore the  playground politics.I'm officially, '   beep,beep and one third' and loving it.

PS Its not me in the picture, though I was born when the world was mostly in black & white

La St Sylvestre

Strange how the familiar and trusted and the unfamiliar & uncertain can trade places. You think you've got a reasonable handle on things, weighed life up, tried to be honest and fair with others and then suddenly, things change.

We have travelled all over France for more than twenty years, acquiring the language. Since 2006 we have been learning the French language formally, take regular lessons, both here in France & back in the UK and, in 2009, I was extremely proud to get a GCSE.
Now this may not be my highest academic achievement, it was only a C grade, but this secondary modern girl, from the council estate, who was given no advantage of a language at school, did good. And so its been a case of applying, listening , learning and admiring and  French friends have been endlessly patient and hugely encouraging.


So this stay in France was set to follow predicted lines and yet here we are suddenly feeling hugely linked with the country & the language. Communication can be problematic when you are not permanently in one place. The gaps of time when you speak French can mean you have to start all over in confidence. but this visit our own language has proven a greater test than our adopted tongue. 

Every French encounter has been relaxed & understandable, we have felt hugely accepted and genuinely welcomed; our language confidence has increased and so has the pleasure in communication. So as 2012 draws to a close the lesson learned has been the true meaning of trust, expect the unexpected .We have a family of French friends here and some very special English ones; you all know who you are.
For those people thank you  and have a great 2013.
 Bonnee Annee.... 

Merry Noel and Joyeux Christmas...

Its Christmas Eve and everywhere people hold their breath.
The light through windows sharp and all minds so afire.
Whatever our belief system, where ever our culture, however and with whom ever we share with blue planet.
The message is of peace and hope...keep the child alive within.

La veille de Noël et partout les gens retiennent leur souffle.La lumière à travers windows sharp et feu alors tous les esprits.

Tout ce que notre système de croyances, où notre culture, cependant, et avec qui nous partageons jamais avec la planète bleu.Le message est de la paix et d'espoir... garder l'enfant vivant au sein.

And for all your attention, exactly one thousand readers in exactly six months today; thank you, I am humbled and thrilled.
Keep reading,check out the website
www.abientot-art.com and tell me what you think..... 

Have a great Christmas...
 

Et pour toute votre attention, exactement mille lecteurs dans exactement six mois aujourd'hui ; Je vous remercie, je suis humilié et ravis.Poursuivez votre lecture, consultez le site Web
www.abientot-art.com et dites-moi ce que vous pensez...

Avoir un grand Noël...

In the deep mid winter....where?

The UK village has an annual Christmas Fayre, which I have not previously attended, but because of the link I am trying to build with the school in France, we did.

What met us was a sight to behold. The village was alive & alight with people, activities and a spectacular sparkle of Christmas lights. Stalls selling all manner of Christmas goods lined the small street and smells of hog roast, hot chocolate and happiness filled the air.
So, taking the photo opportunity we set off; regaled by Christmas carolers,  calls to buy holly wreaths, glittery cards and home made sweets.

 With stall holders dressed in festive guise and children everywhere sporting flashing antlers, fairy wings or Santa hats, it was really something.

We took cake and refreshment from the village hall and chatted in awe over mince pies and mulled wine in the church (yes and it was even sold over the font).

Here a series of tableau's depicting 'Silent Night' were mesmerising and almost medieval with the church so alive with people & conversation.

When suddenly it struck us, it all felt very French! so why did this bejewelled Peak village so remind us of France? simple, the people.


People,families & community all out to enjoy, meet,
celebrate & have fun.
It was surreal and, as I viewed the scene through the camera, a small voice cried out
 " Bonjour Madame Machin !". 
As I looked up I was not sure which country I would be looking into. What I saw were the eyes and  beaming smile of a child,full of wonder !               Joyeux Noel

Not a letter from Santa...

And so I visited the English village school with my carefully prepared lesson & letters from the children in France. What I didn't expect was the children's response, it blew me away.

 I took large photos of groups from the French class, so the English kids could see who had authored the missives and this captivated the children.

Spontaneously and very seriously, when given a letter they stood up to read them. Now the English was simple, the style repetitious and the illustrations brief, but these letters were handled with a sort of reverence.


 Why? Well I think these children knew just how difficult it had been for their French counterparts to achieve this and they valued it. They appreciated the effort, the neatness and the personal nature of the  drawings and each child held onto the letter  and wanted to re-read it...it was really touching.

So it seems children are the same all over; they love the personal, the real,  the 'learning that comes from life'.
And that day ,a set of small hands reached, some 500 miles over the channel, and touched some English youngsters hearts.