This morning, I woke up to find a piece of paper on our dining table that was weighed down by a dark chocolate Bounty bar. On the paper was a short, sweet and simple message:
Pour vous, W x
Not to be outdone, I decided to send him a brief text with what little French I know.
Bonjour, mon chéri. Ca va?
That’ll have him.
Bonjour mon cour. Fatigué mais je vais bien merci.
I laughed and replied.
Right, well there is no way your French is that good!
Comment le sais-tu?
If you’re trying to impress me, French isn’t the way to go about it.
I was always a Latin lover.
I tossed my phone on the bed and organised the laundry to put away. As I worked, I was taken back to a moment on Monday.
“Sherry, for cooking” I said pointedly.
“I can see it’s sherry,” he chided “I’ve just never tried cream sherry before.”
I knew he had, but whatever. As long as he didn’t down the bottle, I was happy,
“Sweet and creamy, usually” I said, matter-of-factly.
His eyes conveyed exactly what he was thinking. Like you, then.
“Don’t say it!” I warned.
“Say what?!” he asked, holding up his hands in defence,
“You’re not allowed to call me ‘sherry’ ” I said, pointing a threatening finger,
“Why not? Sherry.. cheri.. it’s French” he offered with feigned innocence.
I glowered at him.
“Touché.. also in French”
Back in the moment, I glanced at my phone. A lilac light blinkered on the corner of my phone, another WhatsApp message.
It doesn’t matter what language I use, you know I can impress you with my tongue.
Housework is going to be a little more challenging this afternoon!