Where It All Began

First of all, I want to take excerpts from a series of short stories I am writing, to explain to you all where my love of France originated.

‘From about the age of six, I, a long red haired little girl would pretend to speak French’ in a softly spoken gobbly goop of slurs and phrases to all my closest friends, believing I could speak the language.

It wasn’t that I preferred to be somewhere else, it was a growing awareness that I belonged somewhere else.  I had had no lessons in French neither at school nor home, unlike my father Jack, who learnt French in a few rudimentary French lessons with the guide of a small pocket Cassell’s English/ French dictionary….

He would, from time to time, sing to me rehearsed French and their meanings, such as …’le kernif the penknife, la plume the pen’  and a list of other nouns and their corresponding genders  ,in a very Aussie accent laughing and moving his head from side to side all the while. I took the whole thing much more seriously than he, if I can remember rightly…

My father in his simple way, introduced me to another world and I somehow now believe that this was his rightful intention in the first place…Every now and then, I take out his Cassell’s dictionary  and each time it unfolds a sea of memories from my subsequent trips to France, the minute it passes from the shelf to my hand. My fingers move across its smooth exterior with a great respect and I can’t help but smile as I recall my father’s beautiful joking manner.

Funny enough, I was the one in the family of six who ended up with this divine little book, perhaps my sole inheritance- and the only one to have fallen in love with France…’

So, my first blog holds a gift to you all. I’ve been growing a Pierre De Ronsard rose and this is the first time it has flowered, so I thought you might like my photographs of this magnificent pale pink french rose. Enjoy! Don’t forget to take time to smell the roses in your day!

Best wishes,

Copyright@Therese Waddell 2009


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