ze wrong kinda animal lovin’...

You will soon learn of his relevance... I'm a HUGE fan, in weality...

Ze way zings are pronounced ‘ere in France, are not ze (I’ll stop this now, my point is made) same quite obviously, they speak French and not English. It means that for the grown up tongue, it’s ever so hard to get it round some sounds. My kids have an advantage, they have no accent, apart from the local one, which, as long as it’s not the equivalent to a thick Brummy accent (really sorry folks, but it’s quite something the Birmingham accent!!) then I am alright with that. I like to think it is akin to the Cornish accent, it has a twang and seems to be the French equivalent (she hopes). What it does mean, is that as an adult, I will always have my accent, and sometimes the odd word is particularly difficult to pronounce, despite one’s best efforts. For me, I have called people incorrect names (not the end of the world, but when you call someone it for 2 years until they finally get the courage to tell you you’ve been calling them ‘Basil’ for the last 2 years when in fact their name is Cillia, then it’s somewhat embarrassing). They say (literally translated in French) that you ‘do’ a sport. You ‘do’ horse riding for example. The problem with my husband’s preference of sport is that for me as a Brit trying to pronounce it, I often end up pronouncing quite audibly the word for ‘fawn’. ‘Surf’ is surf, and ‘cerf’ is fawn, although spelled differently, pronounced, the vowels are said slightly differently. I have often enthusiastically told people that my husband has gone off to ‘do’ fawns, so we Brits in France may be getting an unfavourable reputation for ze wrong kinda animal lovin’. It nearly got me sterilised too, the word for the coil and sterilisation is very similar, and I was met by a stern refusal, I was too young. I, confused was quite adamant that this should be a common procedure, especially seeing as I now had FOUR kids…and may need a little break…(nervous breakdown kinda break came later…). To cut a long one short, I’d said the wrong word, and it got sorted in the end, without drastic measures. Hallelujah.

My man catchin' a wave...watch out for that Jaws....

The other problem with living here, is that I cannot send my kids to a Speech Therapist to aid in their pronunciation of the ‘th’ sound or the English ‘r’ sound. As it’s not a sound that’s around them, I have to reinforce it. It is painful thinking I have moved my kids to a foreign country, and thus forcing them to speak like mini-Johnathon Rosses. The ‘th’ sound, which is ‘ze’ here (come on, make an effort French nation…) and the ‘r’ sound is a different one. It is also an extraordinarily sound to explain to do-try it, and you yourself will see that this woman speaks a lorra, lorra sense.  Thankfully my sister is a Speech Therapist, and with some handy tits tips, I am gently trying to encourage correct pronunciation in a healthy, fun and educational way…HA! I will put them all in front of an interview with Johnathon Ross, where every answer he gives begins with an ‘r’, and tell them this is where they are big fat headed for, their destiny if they don’t make an effort…!  By the way Johnathon Ross, if you are reading this, and I am convinced that you are, no offense, at least you always know who’s on the phone when you call.

I spent the afternoon in bed on Friday, I have managed to get myself Bronchitised up, thankfully it’s not pig flu, as suggestions began in the morning from a few other mums. They’re still obsessed, the French. I HATE being ill, it stops me from doing things that if do not get done, a volcano would erupt somewhere, mopping my floors are that important. But my husband held the fort like a Trojan, no nonsense, all of us fed and cleaned and he managed to get a late evening fawn surf in (he’d put the kids to bed before he went, bless). Today I’ve been a wee bit zonked, the horse-pill sized antibiotics, which I’m not entirely convinced the size of them is really necessary, although I shan’t be trying them elsewhere-you never can be sure in a country with a penchant for suppositories. Don’t get me started!

There we go, am a broken lady, and am sure my (prescription) drugs are about due, geddin…!

Have a peaceful Sunday, Tamsyn x