On Wednesday of this week, I shall be heading to Le Havre to collect my daughter and grandchildren from the ferry.
The last time I was in Le Havre was the first time that I had taken my new French girlfriend to England.
For me the drill is always the same, head to the port, get on the boat, have overpriced, tasteless fish and chips and then sleep till the morning. My girlfriend however, was determined we had to things “right” so we ended up in a restaurant near the port.
At the table next to us was a French woman and her son, with an English phrase book, speaking to each other in English, testing and helping. I could hear they were stuck on a phrase so offered to help. A conversation ensued, leading eventually to my girlfriend explaining this was to be her first visit to the sceptered isle.
The woman helpfully explained lots of things that might catch her out, being a Frenchie who speaks no English, but saved the most important till last.
“Oh, you can eat very well in England”
“Oh really? I’d heard the food isn’t very good there.”
“Not at all, there are lots of Indian, Chinese and Bangladeshi restaurants.”
They say the first cut is the deepest, and that one hurt.