I’ve been thinking lately that I should re-title this blog ‘An Idiot in France’, as the nature of my (mis)adventures seems to underline the idiocy of arriving to live in a country without first having a reasonable grasp of the language. Although I am learning not to rush to conclusions.
The other day a notice (in French) went up outside the town hall announcing that there would be a public séance that evening and that all were invited to attend. Now, I could understand why people might wish to contact their loved ones on the other side but I was a bit concerned about everyone doing it at once. How would your organise something like that? And if the whole town turned up surely one medium couldn’t cope with the demand? Not to mention the amount of space required for everyone to sit in a circle. Anyway, surely the town hall shouldn’t be sanctioning this sort of carry-on?
Six weeks ago I would probably have called in to Café Sola and asked Laurent whether consulting spirits is a regular part of Collioure life and would you need to wear anything special but on this occasion I returned to the cottage and consulted my French/English dictionary instead.
And now I know something new. ‘Séance’ is French for ‘meeting’. No spirits involved. Not until everyone adjourns to Café Sola afterwards.