Fille's, Femmes and an Embarrassing Faux Pas...

Okay - this is not Blois, but Toulouse, just off
' Place Wilson' behind my camera.
Taken about midnight from my bedroom balcony. 
 I originally called this shot - 'Chef's Break'.

This is a true story.

Just a few dodgy years ago, I unknowingly made a right royal 'faux pas' while booking a room by phone, with a Hotel in France.

Determined to make the effort and complete the task in my best tourist French, in the vain hope that I might even secure some extra special brownie points with the Hotel’s owners – who spoke very little English – I impressed myself by faultlessly saying... “Je voudrais réserver une chambre lit double pour moi et ma fille…s'il vous plaît.”

There followed a long silence... punctuated by a lot of nervous "Ooh’s & Aahs" coming back down the phone line.

Then...a fairly peeved man's voice came on the line and said...in a mix of broken English and French... “Are you sure vous desir un chambre 'double' for you et votre fille…Monsieur?

To which I responded - albeit a little irritatedly now – “Ouiiiiieeee!!...s’il vous plait!”

Well, there followed an awful lot more frantically, whispered interchange between at least three or more people on the other end of the phone, and I couldn’t begin to understand a single word they were collectively jabbering.  Then...oooh!... the battered sounding Garçon came back on and said “Okay Monsieur – we do ziss for you”.  Although, in truth, he didn’t sound the least bit convincing or happy about it, ... at all.
 

‘Nul brownie points’ pour moi so far then. Hmm.
  

A week later we duly arrived at the hotel in Blois, approached the reception desk, and introduced ourselves. The friendly smiling girl at reception duly scanned her reservation book, only to suddenly glance straight back up at me with a look of clearly undisguised alarm, bordering on horror...and then bolted off out the back, leaving us both standing there feeling completely and utterly perplexed.

A few moments later there was a whole new commotion, as five very straight faced manager and manageress types filed back into reception and started glancing back and forth very severely between us, but mostly at my wife. All very startling and confusing for both of us. Then the oldest and most senior looking man stepped forward and said in very good English, but with a distinctly clipped and edgy tone to his voice…”Forgive me Monsieur, but is this lady your, errr,…daughter, may I ask?” Completely and hopelessly baffled now, I just dumbly replied “No. This lady…is my wife”.

I should point out here that my wife does actually look a few years younger than me, even though she is older than me by a full, four, years. But not young enough to be 'my daughter'. Surely!? I mean - Sacre Rouge!!

More frantic verbal interchange followed between all of them, before the man turned back to me and said “Pardon Monsieur, but when you telephoned earlier, you specifically asked for a double bedded room for you and 'your daughter' – ‘votre fille’?!” - “Oh,” I said, feeling a sudden upward surge of body heat accompanied by a rising chorus of distant alarm bells. “What's the French for 'wife' then?”...and with a look of calm resignation and understanding, he politely looked down, slowly shook his head and said “It’s ‘Femme’ Monsieur – not ‘Fille’ - but ‘Femme.’”

“Oh...Fwoops!”..was all I could manage to say.

Grinning hugely now, Head Garcon turned to his team and promptly gushed out a rapid torrent of French, to be joined by a lot of highly animated gesticulating and jaw opening from his colleagues – as their own expressions quickly changed to manic howls of laughter and even more waving of arms and slapping of hands on thighs together - - this also included a very large and fearsome looking chef, who had worryingly appeared at my side, to scowl at me just a few moments earlier.

The centime now ‘dropped’ – my wife then gently touched the senior managers arm and said to him quite charmingly - “Merci beaucoup Monsignor pour la compliment as ma ‘fille’ a 21 ans!...and now - how ‘peut-être’ may I learn how to call 'ma usband eere'…a complete and utter ‘di**head' en Francais?”, to which the manager gave her just the briefest flicker of a smile, bowed his head politely and replied… “Madame, there are a great many ways we can help you do this…and It will be my great and personal pleasure to write 'all' of them down for you…forthwith. In the meanwhile, bienvenue Madame! Then, glancing slightly sadly in my direction - and welcome to our ...umble otel -  Monsieur.”

It's fair to say that we shared much humour with them all for the duration of our short stay, during which the manager confided to us that they had planned to decline me the use of the double room with my ‘daughter’, on my arrival, and either robustly insist on me taking a second bedroom...or throwing me out altogether on my pervy petite derriere! 

For the remainder of our trip - and even after returning home - my wife took great delight in addressing me as “Ma tête petite bite” to just about every Frenchman, Frenchwoman, Frenchdog, cat and croissant we bumped into.

And every single time, they would glance briefly at me, look back at her, and smile with a nod of blatant and knowing approval.

Understood 'Herrr!' perfectly then.

As for the ‘F’ words…well, we’re ‘Damned if we do’ and we’re ‘Damned if we don’t’...so Fee! Fie! Foe! Fum! and 'I !'... smell the bum of an Inglishmum.

Good job ma 'Femme' doesn't read ma Blog isn't it...

Doona teller though - else I'll probably be in 'biiiiig biiiiiig twubble'.

Grande Tète Bite    xx

And if you enjoyed a bit of a chuckle at this little French tale, let alone a much deserved laugh at my complete and utter ineptitude and expense here, then you might also want to take a gaze at yet another perfectly true tale of 'Gallic Phallic' misadventure I managed to stumble into, during a chestnut festival down in deepest Quercy one fine autumnal day - here then is the link. 

Bon appetite, and hang on to your chestnuts...

     Let me know if you too have made some dodgy 'faux pas's' your self's, by getting things unwittingly wrong in a foreign lingo. Answers preferred in English please. Ta.

Blois sur Loire





Now have a look at this 'Faux Pas' link:  http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1315472/French-MEP-Rachida-Dati-confuses-oral-sex-inflation.html