In my haste to jot off a quick post before my job (which I will describe later), I forgot to explain what is perhaps the single most important thing that happened to me yesterday.

I fell in love.

Okay, not really.  But I have developed a full-on, raging crush on the postman in my neighborhood here in Grenoble.  He looks like a Bronzino portrait, except for the jeans and t-shirt and the yellow La Poste bicycle he rides while delivering the mail.  Yesterday morning, when I was flummoxed by his foxiness, I stared, slack-jawed until he said, “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” I managed to squeak out, trying to sound as alluring as I possibly could, and let’s face it, failing.

The fact is that I suck at flirting in English, a language in which I have considerable dexterity (at least, I like to think so).  So my skills in French must be considered abysmal.  And sadly, next week, my classes start at 8:30; M. La Poste hits my block around 10:30.  So, I only have the rest of this week to make an impression.

So this morning, I rushed to get ready in time for Mon Mari Futur, taking care to look relatively cute (as I was going straight to work after class, looking sexy would have been inappropriate).  As I walk down the street, I see him, and my heart skips a beat.

“Bonjour,” I murmur in what I hope is a alluring manner.

“Bonjour,” he replies, with mere civility.

In other news, the kids I tutor are completely charming, and surprising unresentful of me, considering they don’t want to spend their free time being forced to speak English, a language that seems to give them fits.  Yesterday, I flailed around a bit, trying to figure out what level they were at, and what they needed to work on.  I’m really there to give them practice speaking English, not to teach them.  So we played hangman for a bit.  Today, we played Go Fish (good for question formation and numbers), but their little brother wanted to play too, so we played bilingually.  Which is fine, but it gave them an excuse to speak French.  Tomorrow, I will be a little stricter about that.  But they’re good kids and it will be better for all of us if I make speaking English with me as entertaining as possible.  They don’t need to dislike the subject anymore than they already do.

I think that will be it for today.  I will bring news of les petits, who refer to me as L’Anglaise, even though I’m, strictly speaking, L’américaine.  But I get “Anglaise” a lot from the French.

A tout,
La Vieille Anglaise

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