The dangers of speaking a foreign language. Last night we inadvertently became the source of great hilarity at a crowded restaurant in the neighbouring village. At the end of dinner, while I went of to pay the bill , 'the font' was left alone in what should have been inconsequential conversation with the waitress. I'd only been gone for four minutes, max, but returned to find the waitress in tears and the restaurant manager doubled over in what appeared to be agony. When asked by the staff if we'd enjoyed ourselves 'the font' had helpfully replied in French : " It was our first time here and you can be sure we'll come again". In fact what 'the font' had actually come out with was : "It was our first time here and you can be sure we'll never come again". The hitherto stoical waitresses had let out a wail as she attempted to control her fit of giggles, this in turn had attracted the restaurant manager who on hearing 'the font' repeat this less than glowing review succumbed to an uncontrollable bout of Gallic hilarity. The adjoining tables unreservedly and whole heartedly joined in the cachinnation and clapping of hands - no Anglo-Saxon reserve here in deepest France Profonde. A bottle of champagne was produced, the chuckling chef came out of the kitchen , chairs were drawn up, the owner proposed a toast, and yet more locals introduced themselves chortling contentedly at their new neighbours linguistic faux pas. What could have been a disaster was taken with charm, good grace and lashings of healthy laughter. Of course if we'd been in Paris it would have been a different matter.
