My English is middling to good (I like to think), but not great. Other than that, I can get away with conversing in sign language at a basic level - enough to get what I want to say across, but I'm not good at reading it (you don't listen to it :lol: ).
Nic said:
I know a tiny bit of French too, but its fairly pitiful. I'm more-or-less limited to please, thank you, the numbers 1-10 and a few random disjointed words that are completely pointless. I studied it at school for 2 years, but hated every minute of it. I can order my lunch in French, but that's about it.
Time for an early morning anecdote
I was in Paris one evening (six years ago, almost to the day :lol: ) with the family (sans maxi-minor_Furie who hadn't been created yet) and Mr Clam. We were at DLRP, but had headed into Paris for the evening.
We were waiting for the train to take us back at about 10:00 p.m. and we're in a grotty, nasty station. The station was deserted and we had to kind of break through the barriers to get in, but the timetable said the train would stop here, so we thought it wouldn't be an issue. We got to the platform fine though (avoiding all manner of Cthuloid beasties I'm sure).
I needed a wee, so headed off to find the bogs. My French is similar to Nic's, Odd, disjointed words I can't seem to forget. Mr Clam claimed to be okay at French, so came with me to help out (finding the toilets, etc, not to help me have a wee). Being a responsible adult (stop sniggering at the back), I had everyone's train tickets, so it wa spretty important I made my way back before the train arrived. We had 30 minutes or so.
So I manage to find to world's most disgusting "auto-loo" out by the entrance to the station. It's dark, nasty and deserted (except for me and Mr Clam).
I do my business and we start to head back the way we came. Heading down the stairs towards our platform, we meet a gaggle of gendarme - armed French police.
We both "allo" to them and smile. They look sour faced, hold up their arms and start battering us in angry French.
It's one of those moments in your life when you know that things have the potential to go downhill particularly quickly, no matter how happy a disposition you put on... In fact, a happy disposition is likely to make things worse, as we discovered...
Obviously, it became very rapidly apparent that we spoke very little French, and they spoke absolutely no English (or chose not to). Words like "town hall", "right", "left", "rabbit" and "chicken" aren't much use in a conversation with an angry policeman - I suggest you try to explain what you're doing in a dark Parisian station late at night, to men coming from a toilet, both in biker jackets... Thankfully using the above words I know in French, "we've been to a Village People fancy dress party and popped to the loo to do our business" can't be said...
The word "billet" came up from one of the police chaps, and I know this word too... It means "ticket"! Hurrah!
I have tickets! I have eight tickets for all the family_furie (extended) waiting on the platform somewhere in the depths below us.
I produce them all and offer them to the police man.
He suddenly gets
very angry.
He unclips his gun holster and puts his hand on the gun hilt.
I am suddenly very glad I went to the toilet just a few minutes ago.
He starts to yell and points angrily at the tickets. I just start to crap myself. Mr Clam isn't doing much good as my official "I know some French, I'll help you out" guide. I suspect he too is crapping himself.
I remember breaking through the barriers to get on to the platform. The sinking feeling gets rapidly worse...
I now have to try and explain (using town hall, right, left, rabbit and chicken) that I have a family waiting on the station below, and that's why I have eight tickets (two of them children's tickets). I have to explain the train
is coming, I hope... It's not working... "rabbit, left, townhall, right, rabbit, right, chicken?"
I remember another word... Enfant! Child... Point to me and say "moi enfant!" Apparently saying I'm a child in piss poor French isn't endearing me to this guy, who it now seems is firmly committed to pistol whipping the ignorant Brit in front of him... And probably pissing on his battered body afterwards (it's amazing how quickly the mind can run through these situational outcomes).
So, tension is high, the Brits are about to get pistol whipped for some kind of ticket fraud/black market ticket sales and it's looking like family_furie will be enjoying the rest of the holiday without furie (we don't mind being sans Mr Clam
).
Suddenly, one of the gendarme seems to remember she actually speaks English. She's understood the whole exchange. She rapid fires French off to the guy in my face, who smiles, gives me back my tickets and then waves me on past him.
Just like that. What bunch of bastards :lol: They all say good night and wave as we (covered in many varied types of bodily fluid and excretions) make our way back to the platform, just in time for the train to pull in.
I assume it's dull on that duty, and I can imagine them having a good laugh about it later on at the station... I hope that guy gets kidney stones!
So yeah, my French isn't too good and it's made me very nervous about foreign travel :lol: