When I hear French spoken, I eavesdrop. I emulate the lilt and sexy throatiness of the language in my head. In the lift of my tube station, I catch every few words of a French conversation. I'm envious of young French kids because they speak better French than I do.
Tonight I was waiting for a crepe in my neighbourhood of Hampstead and a girl was chatting to the normally grumpy crepe maker in French. It was a happy conversation and I've never seen "the mean crepe lady" smile before. It intrigued me but I don't know why.
At the first bite of my garlic cheese and mushroom crepe, I had a eureka moment. Since I love all things France. Why not blog about my Francophile moments? I live in an area with French people and I love travelling in France.
Despite the title of this blog, I must clarify I'm not fluent in French. You'll see when every now and then I'll post in my limited but honest French. However I will gushingly and lovingly talk about my French experiences, not matter how small.
So in a way, I'm a fluent francophile.
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