Today, November 20th 2013, I had a visit from Namibia. How I would like to know if the visitor actually opened anything on this blog! How I would like to know what he or she was looking for! How I hope he or she found it.
Don’t worry, if you are visiting plain, vanilla-like, from the US or from Canada, I still love you (especially you, Canadians. Thanks to the mayor of Toronto, we feel really good about ourselves down here nowadays!)
I was told recently that I” hated France,” my country of origin. Why that’s completely unfair. Here is proof: My favorite treat in the whole world is LU’s Petit ecolier chocolate biscuit.
And “Les Intouchables” was a good movie.
And really old Calvados is better than average sex (at my age, anyway).
I could go on and on.
My manuscript is ready. “I Used to Be French: an Immature Autobiography” is the story of a prelude, of an unconscious preparation for emigration. It takes place in the strange and captivating era and country that was France in the forties an fifties, in the aftermath of World War Two. It contains no tales of misery or of oppression, don’t worry! I am looking for outlets. I don’t even know what I mean by this. I keep an open mind. I listen.