Thursday, 11 February 2016

Thibault's Tale - once again the Archival Backlog is interrupted.

not cake rings

Souvenir d’un voyage.

It’s written on the back of my hand, so that I don’t forget; but it has nothing to do with Thibault.

This post is about Thibault.

It’s written on the back of my hand because I wanted to remember it, after I heard someone on the radio say it. I think it sounds so much better than if it were translated into English.

Or is that just me?

Thibault is French, but I spoke to him in English.

He has nine cats.

I used to live with six so I reckon nine is a lot; today I have just three.

Thibault's cats are named alphabetically.

I don’t remember all of the names but there is certainly one called Eclipse.

That works in French and English.

There’s another called Goshi, thought I’m not sure how you spell that.

My cats are not named alphabetically, unless it’s backwards with big gaps.

I should have asked Thibault what his ninth cat was called.

In fact I did, and he told me so really what I should say is that I wish i had remembered.

I could have written it on the back of my hand!

I don’t think I’ll get another chance to ask him, though I could send him an e-mail.

If I do that he will think I’m mad.

He told me some weird stuff about his cats, mainly in answer when I asked him if he believed in ghosts.

Perhaps he thinks I’m mad already.

Thibault learnt to fly when he was 14 years old, and flew solo for the first time when he was 15. Apparently you can do that in France.

Maybe elsewhere too.

I was surprised that someone could fly a plane before they could drive a car.

Or, as Thibault pointed out, before you can ride a scooter.

When he reached fifteen, my son informed me that in France all kids get given a scooter by their parents for their birthday.

I told him he was English and that English parents didn’t do that.

He's been sulking ever since.

It’s his birthday again in a couple of days.


One day actually.

I’m going to make a cake.

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