My French lesson has taken a most unexpected turn

‘Alas, David can’t be here this afternoon,’ I told the French teacher as she let me into her light and spacious home. ‘He has an appointment to see a specialist about his ears.’ I tried to say this in French. Conversational exchanges that take place between her front door and the lesson table are usually conducted under a flag of truce and she restricted her expressions of gaping horror to a minimum. ‘His ears?’ she said. ‘Poor David! What is wrong with his ears?’ ‘I think he was blown up by a shell,’ I said. ‘And his eardrums were damaged in the explosion.’

Our French teacher lives a quiet and blameless country life of artistic and intellectual endeavours and gardening. But she understands well enough that like everywhere else French society is in transition and one should be prepared for anything. ‘And so where did this take place, this explosion?’ she said.