The French boyfriend


I’d met him grape-picking in the autumn.

We’d got on well together, and happily paired off as you do on these sort of things. His mate Gerard was married. Which didn’t stop him from trying to pair off with other women.

I don’t think Didier was married, but who knows?

But anyway, he invited me to go and stay with him in Brittany. We’d written to each other after the grape harvest, and I had lovely fantasies of my French boyfriend. I booked my flight to Rennes and he collected me at the airport.

During the journey to his home, he explained that I actually wasn’t going to be staying with him. It wasn’t really appropriate for me to stay at his parents’ home (see why I asked the above question?).

He checked me into a typically French hotel for me to pay for. Um. This wasn’t what I had been expecting at all.

The next day he was at work so I was left to my own devices, and the day after, although he did turn up in the evenings.

On Saturday we went to Mont St Michel. It was truly beautiful.

I never got anywhere near the parental home…..

Unless you call driving past it ‘near’ to show me where it was?

Sunday evening, I was due to fly back to the UK and he drove me to the airport and dropped me off without even an Au Revoir.

I walked into the tiny airport – and – there was no ‘plane. I dashed outside but he had driven off.

So there I am, in a tiny airport in the middle of nowhere. No ‘plane to get on, and nowhere to stay. And the airport was on the point of closing.

What does a rather stupid woman do in these circumstances? Burst into tears.

Whereupon lots of lovely French people asked me what was wrong, put me in a taxi to the city and I spent the night in the Rennes youth hostel. The morning after, I took the bus to the airport and got a flight to London.

A bitter lesson. But not the end of the story.

Some months later, I received a letter from him. Cherie, he wrote, with the inimitable French accent even coming through in his writing. I have met someone else and I do hope you won’t be upset about this. Would it be all right with you if I go out with this person?

WTF was this guy on?!!!!!!!!

I have no idea whether I replied or not. I suspect not. I may have been over him by then.

Still, I did get to see Mont St Michel.

ETA revised photo with new frame courtesy of the talented and creative pix & kardz. Many thanks.

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10 comments on “The French boyfriend”

  1. He sounds like a bit of o two timer to me, but hey, isn’t it incidents like that that build us up to what we are today.
    Mont St Michel? Ha, that innocently caused us some panic on one of our visits to France. 😮

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  2. I really wanted to grow grape picking in France but never got around to it!

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    • Grow grapes in France or pick ’em? 😀 Actually it was a brilliant holiday, loved it to bits. Don’t think I have any pix though. If I can find one remotely connected I’ll post it and spin the tale…

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  3. what a classically true statement for me ‘What does a rather stupid woman do in these circumstances? Burst into tears.’ appluades for that. I would have done the same. Shame that you had to go through all the rubbish to see Mont St Micheal…but hats off to the positivity!

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