Sleaford Target, October 13, 2004

With Billinghay and District Twinning Association looking for new families to join the successful Twinning Association, it was decided to try a fresh approach and promote the Association as seen through the eyes of someone who has gone through the ‘Shall we, shan’t we’ stage. Here, Committee Member Don Irvine recounts his experience…

 

Although my wife and I had discussed sharing our home with ‘foreigners’ many times, the thought of having people I didn’t know, let alone understand, sharing my home, drinking my beer, eating my fish and chips and dancing the Twist to my favourite Beatles track somehow just didn’t appeal to me.

My wife, on the other hand, whose understanding of the French lingo puts my English vocabulary to shame, was all for it. I think she had visions of entertaining some suave sophisticated Parisian with plenty of money and onions the size of footballs!

Nevertheless, several of our friends were already old hands at the twinning thing, so it wasn’t long before the inevitable happened.

“There’s a young divorcee with two children the same age as your two who wants to come to Billinghay” – normally people go to London or Manchester or somewhere a little more exciting – “She would love to come and stop with you.”

Hmm, young, divorced, willing to travel, good with children, French… why not give it a go?

 

Not that this tipped the balance of course, I just felt sorry for the poor woman, what with travelling half way round the world, well, France. I took pity on her situation and relented.

The day arrived when a coach load of Ballonais (that’s not something you have with spaghetti) rolled up at the village hall. Fifty or so men, women and children filed off the bus, not one of them wearing a striped T-shirt or beret, not a whiff of onions (only a slight hint of garlic) and no bicycles!

There was lots of hugging and kissing, two or three times on each cheek, the occasional “oh la la” and in reply “alright, mate?”

I’ve since learned that you don’t have to speak French to understand what a French person is saying (although it does help) and a French person doesn’t have to speak English to understand you. A smile or a frown on a Frenchman’s face means about the same on an Englishman’s face, although you do have to be careful who you wink at!

Anyway, there we stood, my wife, two small children and I, amidst a hundred arm-waving, head nodding excited people.

“This is Catherine (pronounced Catrine), Camille and Clement” said a familiar voice; “bonne visite.”

I thought that was an invitation to a sweet factory, but I am told it means, roughly translated, “enjoy your visit”.

We introduced ourselves, or at least my wife introduced us all. I just nodded, then banged my nose on her forehead as I attempted to kiss her cheek: not once, not twice, but three times. In the end I shook her hand.

I did the same with the two boys; well, after all, men don’t go around kissing men do they? Although I will admit I do practice it sometimes – with our French family I mean!

 

- Extremely Well -

 

We pulled out their small hold-alls from the cargo-hold of the coach, unlike our subsequent visits to France, two coaches: one for the members, and one for the women’s baggage! I didn’t mind, it meant less to clutter my car.

We all clambered in, all seven (I had a big car then), and drove home 300 metres. “Blah blah blah,” said my wife. “Blah blah blah,” said Catherine. “Blah blah blah,” said the French kids. “Blah blah blah,” said my wife.

Within minutes, we had arrived and we all clambered out again. It was like something from The Goodies.

After a hearty meal of bangers and mash with Spanish flavourless onions, we sat and consumed at least two bottles of wine, one for me and the other shared between the two women.

Catherine is very nice, the kids all get on extremely well and although neither party spoke the other’s language, they seemed to communicate extremely well.

The evening passed without a hitch and I was beginning to enjoy this culture thing and from the look on our family’s faces, they enjoyed it too.

We retired earlier than I would have liked, the third bottle of Chardonnay had to be re-corked and returned to the rack until next time. The children went up first, followed by the women.

“Don’t be long” said the wife. The third bottle was uncorked and by the time I drained the last drop it had gone midnight. The dog, my daughter’s dog, was not amused.

I crept upstairs, avoiding the creaky steps, making the landing in about three strides. All was quiet.

“Why have you been so long?”

 

“Bonjour mon petit pois” (translated – “Hello my little pea”) pretty good for a first attempt. I thought a little ‘French’ kissing may have been in order but I had trouble putting my toothbrush in my mouth, let alone anything more romantic!

Next morning saw the four children engrossed in an episode of the Simpsons, English style. On the arm of both settees balanced two large dinner plates with toast ranging from anaemic to graphite black. I acknowledged them in pidgin Esperanto. No response.

My wife and Catherine were sitting at the kitchen table, gossiping like two long-lost sisters, part English, part French. Catherine glanced up and did a retake: “Good morning, how are you?” I nodded and smiled (more like a grimace; my head was pounding.)

After we had all dressed and had our second café au lait, my third or maybe fourth, we made our way to the rendezvous (That’s French for meeting place.) By this time and while waiting for the coach to arrive, Catherine had introduced me to several of her friends. More kissing and hugging.

Everyone seemed very friendly, even the Brits. I very quickly began to wonder why I, sorry, we, hadn’t done this earlier.

Anyway, the coach arrived and off we went. If I remember correctly, we visited Grimsby – very British, very typical, very fishy. A good day was had by all.

 

- Successful -

 

We spent the following days on organised outings; all themed to comply with the funding the Twinning successfully applies for and is awarded.

I found out later that not all Twinning Associations achieve the funding, and that we, the BDTA have achieved 19 out of 20 applications. The failed application was as a result of the year of Foot and Mouth, so not our fault!

We enjoyed several evenings at home entertaining our guests. Catherine was an accountant for a company the manufactures awnings, sun shades over windows to you and me.

The boys are very athletic: one is a keen footballer; the other into basketball. My children are into animals and computers; however the diverse hobbies meant they had plenty to talk about.

One evening, over the weekend, the Association organised a social gathering when our French guests endeavoured to amuse us all. Dressing up as nuns and singing something from the Whoopee Goldberg film ‘Sister Act’, but without the black nun. Hilarious or what!?!

We ate baked potatoes and consumed rather a lot of British alcohol. The children ran riot round the village hall and no-one seemed at all bothered.

 

My children, by this time, had picked up a little French; the French children had picked up a little Queen’s English, Lincolnshire style – “Ow’s yer ol’ boy?”

The morning arrived when Catherine and the garcons, bit more French there, were soon to return home. The pick-up point was the village hall. My wife prepared a picnic with lots of English grub, packed in English foil and placed inside a Tesco carrier-bag. How English!!

There seemed to be a reluctance for anyone to get on the coach. After repeated good-byes, both French and English style, the driver hailed them on.

I felt a slight frog in my throat, or rather a small lump. The coach pulled away, we waved and watched as the coach disappeared out of the village and away towards France.

We returned to a somewhat quiet home to find the picnic on the kitchen table. I had English grub for work for the next three days!

That was [ten] years ago. Since then Catherine has met a brilliant man, Jean-Pierre, or JP to his friends. JP has a daughter similar in age to my own.

 

- Great Friends -

Every other year we go to France, and then they come to us. I love it. They are a great circle of friends, their culture is so different, their outlook on life so refreshing, their generosity is exceptional and their wine – cheap!

I have no regrets about joining the Association. The children’s French vocabulary has improved and excelled them at school, my wife continues to practice, without fault, her French conversation and me, well, JP speaks very good English, Catherine’s English has vastly improved, the children have finished Janet and John and are half-way through War and Peace.

My French, well I have good intentions. I can order most drinks, ask the way to the toilet and I can say “mon petit pois” with a French accent!

The Twinning Association is currently looking for new families, young, old, married, or not. In fact, no matter what your circumstances, there is a French counter-part waiting to come to Lincolnshire.