Patrick, ONE of my patrons
Friend and author, Ails Abraham |
Having
been a French national for over twenty years, I am still stuck with two of my
original accents and saints. This
allows me to make a joke which breaks the ice whenever people ask where I'm
from. Changing nationality is a
complicated process, which in my case took over two years and finished, as
ever, with going to the Préfecture (County Hall) to receive my
papers. So these days I can explain
that normally one is issued with the appropriate accent with the ID Card but,
my week, they had run out so I was stuck with my general purpose British or
Scottish ones.
At
least I am not English. We suffer from
the English/British problem. Because
the language is called English, anyone who speaks it is dubbed that too. I explain that Belgian people speak French
but are Belgian, not French.
Oo
that is a bit of a poser, never thought of that! Think my
audience.
So,
allow me to complicate things a little further...my husband is English. We speak English to each other but, (dah dah
dah) I'm NOT! I slip into my Scottish
accent while speaking French and explain that my family is equally divided
between Scotland and Ireland. My
interlocutors, by now completely fuddled by my Edinburgh-French, try to follow
as I show them the triangle of Edinburgh, Pitlochry and “the wee black north”
in Ireland.
Even
I can be fooled by the family swapping around.
The young woman to whom my mother always referred as “the Nanny” turned
out to be a cousin from Ireland and not hired help at all.
So I have choices.
There will be no doubts if someone plays the Marseillaise! I leap to my feet and join in, singing the
French National Anthem with gusto. Trois
fois Celte (Three times Celtic) as they call me here and as the warning
reads on my van “Caution! Female Celtic Driver!”Thank you Ailsa. You can follow Ailsa on Amazon on her Website and on Facebook and on Twitter
Thank you so much for inviting me
ReplyDeleteYou're always welcome, Ailsa.
ReplyDelete