I have certainly discovered how true this saying is — for me, anyway, in my knowledge of the French language.
When my knowledge of French was practically at zero level (being limited to bonjour and merci), I was quite safe, as the visitors to the farm would leave me alone, my Oriental looks warning them that I might not be able to speak their language at all.
As I have now visited a dozen times or so since 1996, they think I can speak their language, as indeed I should, so they try to engage me in conversation, when actually I can only speak about three more words (I blush as I write this).
As I have now visited a dozen times or so since 1996, they think I can speak their language, as indeed I should, so they try to engage me in conversation, when actually I can only speak about three more words (I blush as I write this).
The village idiot, as he’s nicknamed, comes for coffee twice a day from his neighbouring farm, as he gets so much warmth and kindness here. If Serge and Jeanette are not around for him to chat with, he will corner me and ply me with all sorts of questions, some of which I sort of understand but can’t answer in French, and most of which I don’t understand at all — partly because of my paucity of French, and partly because his utterances don't always make sense, not even to the native-speakers.
Trying to fob him off by smiling and saying oui does not work, as he’ll persist and pursue the point with a “hmm?” and wait with raised eyebrows in anticipation of an answer. Three days ago, he even asked me why the cats are being locked up — at least I was able to say, “Veterinaire.”
Trying to fob him off by smiling and saying oui does not work, as he’ll persist and pursue the point with a “hmm?” and wait with raised eyebrows in anticipation of an answer. Three days ago, he even asked me why the cats are being locked up — at least I was able to say, “Veterinaire.”
Serge will ask me in the morning if I’d slept well — something Jeanette asks me every morning, so I know it well. Answering oui merci will elicit high praise from him that my French has come a long way now (see blog entry Matter over mind in reverse?).
On Sunday night, dining at Monsieur Minou’s (see also blog entry Minou), there was a clip of a rugby game on the TV news. Serge turned round and said to me something to the effect of, “Can you imagine a whole bunch of men running around chasing a ball?!? It’s only a ball, after all, for goodness sake!”
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, indeed. Serge has promoted my French to the level of understanding comments on rugby, based on my marginally bigger vocabulary. They might start seeking my opinion on French politics next!
(France 2012)
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, indeed. Serge has promoted my French to the level of understanding comments on rugby, based on my marginally bigger vocabulary. They might start seeking my opinion on French politics next!
(France 2012)
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