Embrace your Franglais, mes amis

Having breakfast at a hotel in the chouette Eighth Arrondisement of Paris last weekend, and employing what I imagine to be my faultless French, I asked for a boiled egg, ‘un oeuf à la coque.’ The waitress asked, did I want glaçons (ice) with that? Err, no, I replied, bemused. The waitress then brought me a bottle of Coca-Cola.

Perhaps this is not a propitious anecdote with which to begin today’s assignment, ‘How I learned to master French.’ Perhaps it casts doubt on my claim to speak French. Or perhaps it was merely a reminder to be humble. 

I am sometimes asked how I have cracked it but the truth is it can’t be done. Once you accept this, you can start speaking French, hoping your charming accent will overcome the grammar of a vache espagnole. I note there are many who claim fluency in another language but seem reluctant to demonstrate this in the field.