SkiBike Tour 2012-13 - Sa Plane Pour Moi
Posted: Sunday 13 January 2013 by Mark Kinnon in Labels: 2012-13 Tour, D.I.Y., France, SkiBike
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Longmans Audio Visual French lesson 1 - Ecouter et Repeter... it was the summer of 1976, I was starting secondary school and dressed in oversized "you'll grow into them" itchy grey trousers and blazer combo. We were being introduced to space age teaching methods. The teacher hit the playback button on a massive reel to reel tape machine which provided the soundtrack and on cue with a series of beeps advanced a cartoon film strip detailed the fascinating lives of Claude and Claudette.
It was a novel and innovative concept that which gave me an excellent accent (for Un Rosbif) but absolutely no concept of grammar or syntax.
Anyway when would I ever need to speak French? All the cool countries, like America, spoke English and Great Britain was still the place to be. We had fantastic bands like; The Rolling Stones, Sex Pistols, Stranglers, Buzzcocks and Pink Floyd. What did France have to offer then? Sacha Distel and Plastic Bertrand (who was a Belgian). We had spiky pink hair, tartan bondage trousers and Mohawks, what did France have to offer a teenager filled with a lust for life Kickers?
Cut to nearly 40 years later and so much has changed, France has finally turned out some cool music, Air and Daft Punk both spring to mind. They still have the best mountains, tastiest foods and wine is still cheaper than Cola. The ability of the French to look cool in a classic style remains, whereas poor old ruined Britain has degenerated into a dirty facsimile of the worst that the ghettos of the USA have to offer us. As "The The" sagely predicted in the 1980s in the song "Heartland" now it really is "The 51st state of the US of A".
Well the damage is done, nothing will reverse it, not in my lifetime anyway. So in the words of The Police "When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around".
Thanks to Longmans Audio Visual French, with my brazen disregard of the correct tenses, verb conjugations, use of masculine and feminine nouns, etc. I believe that I have arranged the lease on a flat in the market town of Cluses, a stone's throw from all of my top Alpine haunts. Here I will soon be holed up with my cousin Paul, freshly retired and myself now borderline unemployable, for a little Withnail and I style adventure, minus the Uncle Monty squidgy bits.
What news will February bring? "Sa plane pour moi, ne.ne.ne.ne.ne, sa plane pour moi, ne.ne.ne.ne.ne".
It was a novel and innovative concept that which gave me an excellent accent (for Un Rosbif) but absolutely no concept of grammar or syntax.
Anyway when would I ever need to speak French? All the cool countries, like America, spoke English and Great Britain was still the place to be. We had fantastic bands like; The Rolling Stones, Sex Pistols, Stranglers, Buzzcocks and Pink Floyd. What did France have to offer then? Sacha Distel and Plastic Bertrand (who was a Belgian). We had spiky pink hair, tartan bondage trousers and Mohawks, what did France have to offer a teenager filled with a lust for life Kickers?
Cut to nearly 40 years later and so much has changed, France has finally turned out some cool music, Air and Daft Punk both spring to mind. They still have the best mountains, tastiest foods and wine is still cheaper than Cola. The ability of the French to look cool in a classic style remains, whereas poor old ruined Britain has degenerated into a dirty facsimile of the worst that the ghettos of the USA have to offer us. As "The The" sagely predicted in the 1980s in the song "Heartland" now it really is "The 51st state of the US of A".
Well the damage is done, nothing will reverse it, not in my lifetime anyway. So in the words of The Police "When the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around".
Thanks to Longmans Audio Visual French, with my brazen disregard of the correct tenses, verb conjugations, use of masculine and feminine nouns, etc. I believe that I have arranged the lease on a flat in the market town of Cluses, a stone's throw from all of my top Alpine haunts. Here I will soon be holed up with my cousin Paul, freshly retired and myself now borderline unemployable, for a little Withnail and I style adventure, minus the Uncle Monty squidgy bits.
What news will February bring? "Sa plane pour moi, ne.ne.ne.ne.ne, sa plane pour moi, ne.ne.ne.ne.ne".