tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290395635850697105.post9154901988180797895..comments2023-09-22T13:57:20.922-04:00Comments on From The Valley To The Palais: Hollande, L'Affaire Francais And My Breton Summernappy valley girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10788949037047084412noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290395635850697105.post-3952732340497078392014-01-21T23:30:03.789-05:002014-01-21T23:30:03.789-05:00How funny - when I was 17 I went on a family holid...How funny - when I was 17 I went on a family holiday near Quimper, which wasn't too far from Brest as I recall. Calhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09198909948862506112noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290395635850697105.post-28765156271050624092014-01-20T09:17:05.763-05:002014-01-20T09:17:05.763-05:00Do all French husbands sleep with their secretarie...Do all French husbands sleep with their secretaries...it does seem so to me...and it all sort of seems ok...it's just what the French do! Your summer sounds fabulous indeed...Nota Benehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00969705852180234416noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290395635850697105.post-5308509836761921042014-01-20T04:17:48.433-05:002014-01-20T04:17:48.433-05:00Dumdad - sounds like your Papa was doing exactly t...Dumdad - sounds like your Papa was doing exactly the same! Shame about your awful exchange. My girl never came back to the UK and although I corresponded with the Maman a few times I never heard from the girl again!nappy valley girlhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10788949037047084412noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290395635850697105.post-66752298865539743892014-01-18T10:40:08.390-05:002014-01-18T10:40:08.390-05:00What a great read!
I too, aged 17, went on a Fre...What a great read! <br /><br />I too, aged 17, went on a French exchange. I lucked out in that the family was extremely rich and had a chalet in the south of France with private beach and a chateau near Versailles with butler and cook. Papa was a banker and, oddly enough, his secretary - very French, very sexy - met me at Gare du Nord. I was given dinner in a swish resto with Papa and secretary then put on the overnight sleeper to Toulon. Funnily enough, Papa didn't accompany me, saying he'd join the family later. Hmmm. So, alone, I travelled through the night, smoking French cigarettes and getting beers when the train stopped now and then. Great adventure. <br /><br />Unfortunately, my exchange was a stuckup, arrogant tosser and used to go off for the day with friends leaving me on my own. It didn't bother me and I still enjoyed my three weeks; he was the same when he returned to my home in Kent - he didn't like pubs, English beer and made no effort when I introduced him to friends. C'est dommage. <br /><br />(I'm having a problem publishing this comment; will try with my blogger account).<br />Dumdadhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00070838905120958459noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7290395635850697105.post-31225361692059987472014-01-17T18:21:12.535-05:002014-01-17T18:21:12.535-05:00I love this - brilliant story. I can completely pi...I love this - brilliant story. I can completely picture it and it sounds fab. Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com