Awoke from a mildly erotic dream. In a series of outdoor vignettes in Brittany a woman in her late thirties sought to stand with me. Her hair was poorly dyed (dark roots over-prominent) and her behaviour was alternately timorous then timorously forward. I called her Emmeline.In the dozing half-life that is one of life's greatest blessings I expanded what I remembered of the dream into a wholly controlled scenario. I returned with Emmeline to her parent's home and subjected the whole of the family to a long series of English lessons, getting harder with time and conducted entirely in English, other than my corrections delivered in flawless and hyper-academic French. All joined in enthusiastically and Emmeline approved.
If I hadn't been directing each development of this tutorial I might have imagined I was asleep. When I speak French in dreams my talk is spontaneous, correct and interminable.
Up and shaving, I reflected on Emmeline and even now I feel a powerful if incorrect need to endow that second e with the aigu accent to emphasise her Frenchness. Her nationality is important. Physically she would not be considered good-looking by most Anglo-Saxon males. But to me she has that admantine expression of life which I associate with many French women.
On the way to pick-up the Guardian I day-dreamed. The only possible reason for Emmeline's interest in me is because I have recently taken to wearing black. Mistakenly, no doubt, I believe black to render me formidable. Especially my new footwear: Unisex Slip On School Plimsolls art no 7231 Black & White. Adult shoe size 11, Black. My shoes have a pedigree, something of a first.
A good start to the day.
Black is always a good fashion choice.
ReplyDeleteColette: I adopted black as some kind of positive statement, following a chiropracter's fiddling that has removed two months of sciatic pain. I stride about erect, using all of my 6ft 1½ in., looking for devils to conquer. Perhaps uncomfortably close to a modern-day storm trooper. The photograph doesn't quite convey the new dominant me but at the time my mind was devoted more to Emmeline's admiration that I was able to hold her whole French family in thrall with my pedagogic manoeuvres. The French are very strong on education.
ReplyDeleteIt is so true about the color black, at least in Paris. When I go back there I am always surprised at the sea of black and navy clothes I see. Here in Atlanta, Georgia and also Nashville, Tennessee, there are many colors. Actually many wear blue jeans and snickers. They also wear shorts and flip flop year round. Yesterday at the store, and it was not that warm, there was a middle age guy with thin bright green shorts, showing his hairy legs, and orange snickers – not very attractive. He would have been better in black, but that would have made him look “foreign” and in the age of Trump, foreign is not good…
ReplyDeleteVagabonde: In summertime in Pittsburgh my first act on returning home from work was to remove every stitch of formal clothing and to don lightweight synthetic shorts (no pants) and a short-sleeved cotton shirt. I felt as free as a bird; anything else seemed impossibly weighty. But alas my body simply postponed my betrayal. Varicose veins developed later (happily in the UK with its free national health system), these were surgically stripped and thereafter I was condemned to wear support hose for the rest of my life. Shorts were thus a no-no.
ReplyDeleteI get the feeling Trump hasn't really discovered the French yet. When he does he'll be horrified. All those things (eg, reading books, haute cuisine meals, a general interest in theory compared with practice, a love of language, etc) to disapprove of. I cannot wish him well.