Petite Anglaise

I write as a Petite Anglaise convertee. I shall first explain how I discovered the blog of Petite Anglaise. I was browsing a French newspaper one morning when I came upon an article detailing her court case against her former employer. The article mentioned her blog and being very bored at the time, I immediately looked it up. I have to say the synopsis did not impress me much - English secretary, with partner for eight years, has a child, leaves partner for man she met on blog and (at the time I started reading) had recently been fired and also dumped by "Lover". Bloody great, I thought, what did she go and mess it up for? Admittedly this was more a reflection on myself, my own hopes and dreams about establishing my life in France, rather than a personal attack on Petite. You see, whilst I wasn't always a Francophile, since moving here in 2003 I have fallen in love with the country, and later in love with a Frenchman, and I was at the point in my relationship when I was very much wondering whether it would all work and whether love and a lasting relationship was possible between a French person and an English person or could love not survive the cultural differences. In a way I resented Petite for proving that such a relationship could not work (again, my fault not hers). I then started reading all her blog entries from the beginning to find out what on earth had happened. I have to say that through reading the blog I was converted into being a modest Petite Anglaise fan and I thoroughly enjoyed her accounts of Paris and her writing style. I will even admit that the Petite Anglaise site was one of the main reasons for this blog, although I wanted to blog just to express my opinion and had no intention of revealing so much personal details. Anyway having read the blog I wanted to read the book to find out what exactly was the story behind the blog.

I did enjoy the book on the whole. The first few chapters I felt that Catherine's usual writing style had clearly been jazzed up (somewhat necessarily) by the over use of a thesaurus but as the story got going, her natural narrative style appeared and I did enjoy the rest of the book.

Like other blog readers I was somewhat disappointed that the book did not go on to reveal the inside story as to what happened when she was fired and what has happened since but I appreciate that at the time of writing she wanted to end the book on a positive note and therefore I think it was well done.

There have been those who have judged the book for showing a rather superficial, selfish, immature character. At one point I have to say that I myself did cringe at some points thinking "How can a 34 year old be so naïve?" but I corrected my own judgment by reasoning that in fact age does not equal wisdom and only life experience teaches you what decisions to make later on. Yes it is easy to judge those who have cheated on a partner and/or left them, but the old proverb of "don’t judge a person until you have walked a mile in their shoes" applies in such a situation, and in light of my own experiences it is easier to judge how Catherine should have acted but it is only by living those experiences that you learn the hard lessons.

The truth is in writing the book Catherine has laid bare parts of her real life and therefore laid her life and not just her writing open to judgment from anyone and everyone. As I continue to read the blog it would appear that Catherine/Petite and her fans react very aggressively to the slightest criticism made by commentators or those who have written reviews on Amazon and I think Catherine should be a bit more thick skinned. Easier to say if you haven't written a book I suppose but even so, given the thousands of adoring fans which log onto to Petite's website everyday, it is my opinion that she should be proud of what she has achieved, be pleased with all this support, take the constructive criticism on the nose as it is intended and ignore the other vicious criticisms. But that said, once again, I am judging Catherine's reactions by what I myself have learnt from life - easy to say, not so easy to take on board!

So I would advise anyone who is wondering about life in France to read Catherine's blog and book, they are both enjoyable reads and I look forward to Catherine's next book when, hopefully, she will truly establish herself as a writer.

Joy and praise

The time is soon approaching for our yearly appraisals at work. I'm not too apprehensive, however as feedback is necessary and generally constructive. Nonetheless, now that I work in an office, I often think back on my first work appraisals - when I taught in the schools.

Anyone who has taught knows how incredibly rewarding it is to be a teacher and see the your students achieve something and know that you have had something to do with it. That said, children can also be very unforgiving and never happy with the work you have given to them, and which you have tried to make it as interesting as possible. There are some who will be glad of the work you have spent hours preparing and others who at the end of the day will say that they weren't happy with one thing or another. Three years of teaching both children and students taught me that you can never please everyone.

One particular incident comes to mind when it comes to talking about being evaluated in ones work. When I was teaching the children, although I knew they had had at least one other English/American teacher before me, they seemed to have forgotten what they had been taught. I found out from the children that their last teacher was called Mary-Ann and that she was American. One day, when I was going through basic greetings, I said to them "oh you must know how to reply to the question "How are you?". Was it not one of the things Mary-Ann taught you last year?". Some of the children looked rather blank and others shook their heads vehemently. One girl piped up "No! Mary-Anne didn't teach us anything, she just re-applied her make-up and made us smell her feet".
"Oh really?" I said, more than mildly skeptical about these accusations.
"Yes" said the girl earnestly, and cupping her hand in front of her face as if she was holding a compact make-up mirror, she continued, "She used to stop in the middle of the teaching and check her eye make-up, and other times she would put her foot up on the table and make us smell her feet and then she would count her toes". Ah this explained it a little. I found it funny how the girl had interpreted the teacher's actions. I made a mental note to myself to check my make-up before entering the school and when teaching them how to count, to stick to using my fingers! I often worried given that after a year of being taught by her, all these children would remember of Mary-Ann was how she used to check her make-up (or most probably had a problem with a contact lens) or once tried to teach them how to count by pointing out that she had ten toes as well as ten fingers. I knew I was far from a perfect teacher and had no doubt that whatever I did these children would tell some wildly exaggerated story about how I taught to the next teacher.

I turned out that I needn't have worried. A year later I was having drinks with some friends when a friend of a friend came to join us and was introduced to me. "Pierre teaches English in the school near La Victoire", Jack said. Pierre was French and had lived in the US for several years, having returned to France to qualify as a teacher he now taught English. "Oh, I know the one, I used to work there, my name is Rose" I said.
"Rose?" said Pierre, "so you're Rose?"
"Yes" I said feeling slightly apprehensive, "why, what have they said about me?"
"Oh no nothing bad, they love you!! I was once teaching them about the magic e – the fact that putting an e at the end of certain words changes the sound – and drew a flower and pointed out that you don't pronounce it 'Roz' you pronounce it 'Rose'. Then upon hearing the word the children said "Rose, like Rose". "Yes" I said, "the flower", to which they replied that it was not only a flower but that they had had a teacher called Rose. When I asked what you were like they said how nice you were and then started chanting some song you had taught them". Pierre then hummed the tune of the song.
"They said I was nice?" I said, still unconvinced, "they didn't say anything about me making them do horrible things, or, any other strange criticisms?"
"Oh no! One girl did mention something about a certain Mary-Ann however".
I rolled my eyes and smiled and told him about what the children had said about Mary-Ann.

Phew! Not only had I escaped being remembered as some ugly witch with strange teaching methods but on top of that they had remembered the song I had taught them on expressing how they were feeling (happy, sad, tired, good etc.). They may have forgotten everything else I had ever taught them and claim total ignorance as regards being able to speak English but at least they had remembered something!

29 February

Monsieur and I decided to wander up to Sacré Coeur on Montmatre. It is Sunday afternoon and the sun is shining. As we make our way along the cobbled roads, blissfully unaware of the crowds of tourists around us, I suddenly thought about something, "You know" I said, "this year February has one extra day, which means that this year is a leap year. How do you say leap year in French?" I ask. He thinks about this for a minute and replies "année bissextile". "Well" I continue "in England and I think in America as well, in a leap year, traditionally woman ask men to marry them" I say trying to catch his regard. "Oh look, there's a table free" he said, totally ignoring what I just said and steering me towards a small table in front of one of the many cafés surrounding Place du Tertre.

Several hours later, having enjoyed our hot drinks and watched the painters trying to hustle the tourists into having their portrait done we wander round to the Sacré Coeur. As we turn the corner we see a small park from which we have a great view onto the Paris rooftops and notably the Eiffel tower.

The sun is now setting turning the misty sky of Paris into a dusty pink color. We are sat on a bench, my head resting on his shoulder. Behind us a busker is playing the Spanish guitar. The moment is perfectly romantic. I lift my head to plant a kiss on his cheek and gaze at this lovely Frenchman who I love so much. "Mon chéri" I say "I have something important to ask you…". He looks at me quizzically. I pause for a while, for dramatic effect, trying to stop myself from smiling. I breathe in as if taking the plunge, "Well…Do you think we should take the funicular down the hill or walk?" I say, now letting my mouth smile and burst out laughing. He throws me a look, rolls his eyes, flings his arm around my shoulders and pulls me towards him to plant a kiss on my forehead. "You didn't have me worried you know" he said.
This is totally us, the most romantic city in the world, in a romantic place in the city at sunset and we are laughing and joking with each other.
"I know what you were trying to make me think you were going to ask but I know that despite what you said earlier you won't ask me to marry you this year"
"How's that?"
"Well, you do know that if you ask me to marry you then you'll have to buy me a nice ring and you won't get that ring you have your eye on". He has a point, I do have a ring in mind, about which I drop not-so-subtle hints.
"So", he continues "I know I'm safe for at least a year, if this is a year that you have to ask me to marry you. I don't have to ask you to marry me for another year or so".
"But you are thinking that one day you might ask me to marry you?" I say, pouncing on this last comment.
He throws me another side-ways look, smiles and kisses me again. I snuggle into him and continue to gaze at the Eiffel tower.
What's French for "quit whilst you are ahead"?