Not sure how he got on mind you, but I have the feeling that Le Mans might have been the only place he visited that day.
Not surprisingly, I suppose, it turned out that Kevin had worked all his life in local government 'hadn't really wanted to do anythink else' . 'And what do you do there?' enquired Francois. 'I do mainly green field projects now, but somehow they never seem to get finished, the requirements are never finalised and they're always moving the goalposts, and then I find I'm moved to something else'.
I overheard Elisabeth ask of her husband (in French): 'I'm not sure I understand what he does', to which Francois enlightened 'I think he works on the sports fields in the parks, erecting the goal posts'. 'And what of your French?' Francois asked of us all. Paul admitted to speaking almost zero, I get by well enough but vocabulary is my weak point. Kevin was 'gettink there, and not doing too bad, actually, even if I say so myself', and then failed to say a single word in French the rest of the evening. Somehow, I think that, if anything is certain in ten years time, it will be that Kevin still is - getting (sorry, gettink) there, that is! Kevin seems such a nice guy, the sort you always wish will know what to say and when, but someone you cannot help but accept never really will.
The confusion continued, but this time, I have to take the blame. Cheese was accompanied by liqueurs - home produced of course, three types. I was OK with the first two but somehow misheard monsieur's description of the last:
'It's is made of red fruit', he said. Now, I am sure he said 'red foot'. 'Ah, pied rouge!' I commented. 'Is that what you call it in England?' asked Francois. 'No, I was just translating what you said.' 'No,' Paul whispered across, 'not foot, fruit!' 'Oh, monsieur, I made a mis-' 'It is found on the beach.' What, the fruit?' 'No the bird.' 'What bird??' 'The pieds rouges - it is a famous sea bird, but I don't know what you call it in English' 'Tern?' I suggested. 'Pardon?' from Francois. Kevin suddenly woke up 'Oh, I see what I have done, you probably think I move goal posts, but it's not like that...' 'Oh, you mean you turn the goal-posts'. 'No,'(from me), the tern is a bird.' 'That sits on the goal posts?' 'No, it is a bird you find on the beach.' 'Does it have red feet, pieds rouges?' 'Maybe.....!?' 'It is no good, I will have to get my book.... Elisabeth?' Elisabeth disappeared and came back with a huge book - Oiseaux of the World (or something like that). Much thumbing of pages. 'Voila! Pieds Rouges, you can see the red legs and the red feet, there, in the photo' (triumphantly showed us all the book with the glorious pieds rouges depicted) 'the English is here also - redshank!'
However, I cannot help but think that, in the future, when Francois next serves this liqueur to his English guests, they are going to be told 'and now, a special treat, a, liqueur that I am sure you will know well - in England you call it Redshank!'
Confused silence will undoubtedy follow....!