Junk in the trunk?

Panama hat? I can't sell that, I look so cool in it!

Car boot time...I've been threatening for around three years to do one...the time has come. The past's treasures (aka junk) are piling up into an unmanageable mass almost visible from space.

Into the boot it goes. Destination - a field on a Sunday morning. Of course the forecast is for rain. It would be the same if we'd decided to camp. I am undeterred. Serious buyers will turn up in the rain. The will be unable to resist our wares. I'm hoping the Dr. Who fish tank will be a big earner, what about those Barbies  (only slightly matted hair) must be worth a £1 to make a small girl happy?

I've been busily filling up boxes and bags, family have been busy retrieving treasures "we can't sell that" is the cry. Why can't we sell it? You haven't seen or used it for five years. Well...I have news, I'm home alone and it's all in the car boot already. Hopefully the 7am start will mean offspring is too dozy to notice I'm selling off her egg cup collection. 

Parlez-vous Franglais?

The other week our linguistic skills had a grand workout. We had a French exchange student staying with us so a dusting off of our schoolgirl French was the ordre du jour.

All went well, I quickly learn not to start challenging conversations. For example - launching into a conversation about the history of Sheffield, the steel industry and engineering taught at the University may have been a bridge too far, or pont trop loin even.

We bamboozled the lovely Clara with the Great British Bake Off (with celebrities) on the telly, a trip to the Co-Op, shopping at Meadowhall and an early celebration of Burns night with friends. Yes that’s right, Burns night. You know, because of the strong links between Derbyshire and Scotland.   

I’m not sure how well toasting the meal with whiskey, reading a poem to a plate of unrecognisable food and bagpipes being played with varying levels of skill can be translated to young French people. There was, however, lots of laughter, back up pizza and a movie to watch, which suited everybody.

Some of the laughter was in response to my attempts at the French language. When I was helping clear up “assiette coming through,” which in my mind was a good approximation both French and English all could understand, caused a significant amount of amusement. I was just pleased to remember what the French for plate was. 

Mmmm...bon appetite!