14 mars 2005

Brief encounter of the Toulouse kind

People in Toulouse are lovely.
Some of them are also bizarre. On Friday, I stopped off at a florist's for some cacti on the way to meet my friends (I figured it was as good a thank-you gift as any for a lovey-dovey couple planning their wedding), and w
e struck up a conversation with the little lady in the shop - because I'm nice that way (not any other way but that).
So we talk, I tell her I'm visiting some friends, and she infers from that single bit of info that I'm foreign. "Your French is so good for a foreigner". Yeah, thanks a bunch. I AM French, you nice silly woman.
The cheek. I swear. I didn't even have the heart to set the record straight.
And to top it all, as she'd told me she'd barely slept the night before, I wished her good night when I left, as a little "inside joke". So, 'bonne nuit', I go, slightly chuckling because that was so clever. That's when she replied 'Non, non : bonsoir, bon - soir', enunciating it like I was 6. What could I do but apologise and repeat after her?

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