Visiteurs

Never ones to cower in the face of adversity, we have today welcomed a French Exchange student to The Funny Little Bungalow.
Poor girl.
I did try to explain to the French Teacher about our situation. I described the sleeping shelf, and the cramped conditions. But somehow, regardless of all of that, here we are…

Fear not, though. I wouldn’t actually make a poor, displaced foreign child bed down on a ledge with four strange children. I think the French Embassy might be called if I tried. Having discussed the status quo, the French Teacher and I agreed that Little Seymour Number One and her student could stay at Grandma’s.
Result!
Good Old Grandma!
But I couldn’t very well get away with this if I didn’t show the French Girl some evidence – how would it look otherwise! “Bonjour, mademoiselle! Did you have a bon voyage? I am the person you are not going to stay with. I shall just shirk my responsibilities right here. Au revoir.” No, I had to take her and show her, just so she could see for herself.

So, we had a tour of The Funny Little Bungalow. We saw the mud, and the piles of rubble. I showed her the space that will be a kitchen. I had my optimism glasses on, but the French Girl? I am not sure what she made of it. We walked down the garden, across the Bog of Eternal Stench, and past the Scruffy Caravan – classily parked up by the fence. And then, we showed her The Shed.

She was quiet and didn’t say much. I babbled a lot in my rusty A Level French and explained (I think) that the place isn’t ideal, but at least we are not homeless. I struggled to come up with the word for “shed”, and I think we both agreed that Grandma’s house was a preferable option.

It is always difficult to ascertain exactly what people think when they see our project. Some are excited by it, and others are horrified. But I think it’s safe to assume that an only child from a lovely detached house in The Vendee with a pool in the garden is going to be somewhat baffled by our lifestyle. She was very polite; if she felt horror, she hid it well. But in the toss-up between an honest explanation for her ensconcement at Grandma’s and conjuring up a reputation as a normal, functioning English family, I chose honesty.

Now, she understands I haven’t shunned her and sent her elsewhere on a whim, but she must also worry what kind of people would live like that! On this, her first visit to Blighty, she will think we are all shed-dwelling savages with hundreds of children tucked on shelves. I do hope she will come back when the house is finished, so that I can show her just how suave we really are…

But, our hospitality can’t be that bad. Because next week, I have five additional people actually coming to stay with us. They have chosen to do so, it was their idea and I haven’t forced them. They’re also currently of sound mind.

Where we will put them remains up for discussion – I voted to give up our bed, but Big Seymour wasn’t too enamoured with that idea. And so, it is looking increasingly likely that the Scruffy Caravan is going to get a spring-clean – and fast.

Now, where did I put those hot water bottles..?