The French Student
Many years ago when my late wife and I were on holiday in Paris, we decided one day to Visit the Left Bank. I wanted to see the Marais and the Bastille and my wife rather liked the idea of some different shops. We took in the sites that we had planned to visit and my wife had found a little gift shop and purchased some small items of Blue Limoge Pottery so she too was content to return to our hotel.
It was about then that we realised that we were lost. Nothing unusual in that, when we are abroad if everyone seems to head right we go left. It’s amazing the things that you find that others seem to miss, but that wasn’t solving our immediate problem. Then I saw walking towards us what to all intents and purposes was a typically French student. She had long hair in a curly perm, a hermes scarf around her neck, fitted leather jacket, distressed figure hugging jeans and short ankle boots with high heels.
I approached her and in my very poor tourist French said, ‘ Excuse Moi, Mamselle le direction de?’ I got no further with my request because at this point our French student had a fit of the giggles and said, ‘ It’s awright luv! I’m from Liverpool!’ in a broad Scouse accent, which was just about the last thing I expected. She very kindly took us in hand and showed us our route back in to the city. She was apparently working as a Nanny but mixed socially with a group of French students which I suppose to a certain degree explained the clothing. We were certainly fooled by her appearance.
(c) Damian Grange 2017