“Wherever you are, there you are.”
And it’s true.
But it’s down right strange to be in France and be closer to London than Paris.
But there you are, definitely in France, but surrounded by so much of Britain that you might as well be somewhere in Hackney (sorry, Hackney — you’re a nice place and I loved spending time there, but THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE FRANCE) for all the French you’re getting to learn and speak.
Escape into town. Up by the church and le postale; at least there’s a tabac there and Isabelle and Laurent don’t speak much English, but they are amused by your efforts at le langue Française and they DO have some local brew.
Or take a right out of the gate and walk down to the bridge over the canal. There’s a bar there, seems like a real bar inside from what little you’ve seen. Certainly worth another visit and spend some time with some real locals — and hope that they’re not derelict Flems on the run and speaking in Flemish rather than French.
Call this a work in progress, call it what you will… just don’t call me late to dinner.
More to follow when the spirit so moves me…
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