I now feel better about my terrible accent in French: that’s after listening to a Eurostar conductor attempting, and thoroughly mangling, “St Pancras”. A further cause for celebration of the move of the terminus (aside of course from the fact that it will be a 10-minute walk from my door).
The workers in French bricolage stores (or at least the one next door to my hotel) are just as bad as B&Q’s – the one I asked this morning for a French-English elecriticy connector (another one to add to my collection – somehow it is what I always forget) had to run to the one woman in the store who seemed to know something – she had a queue of staff waiting for her attention.
Note to self: don’t ask for a recommendation of a cheese “a la region” in Nice – when I thought about it, it obviously isn’t exactly a dairying region. The nice woman behind the counter in Casino made a valiant effort, however, suggesting gorgonzola, since Italy is just around the bay, more or less. I thought that was a bit much for lunch on the beach, however, so settled for a very pleasant Brie de Meaux.
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