By Tom Guyton-Day
Me, chilling
I remember vividly being told by mummy “we’re moving to a new house.” I had a great many questions… being the inquisitive chap I was. None of them included what country this new house might be in. One might presume at the tender age of 6, “what even is a country” – the very principle had not quite developed in my spongy brain nor been taught.
Those years I spent in France, at the time were very stressful for me, but as any Englishman does (not that this was even a concept to me at the time) – we get on with things. I met a nice Franco-American guy called Pascal who kindly helped me throughout my very earliest years of education and made lots of new French friends, invited to birthday parties, had running races through the central school yard, and played in the sand pit. Rather blissful.
The first time I ever went to a French school, I was left by Mummy with my new teacher, with his brushy moustache. Marc. He was the kindest influence on me and tolerated my inability to speak a word of French. The chatty little boy I was, I began explaining to him a great many things – only to find, English was not his mother tongue. This is when I met Pascal and a Friendship was born from necessity at first, but admiration soon followed.
I’m writing this, not as a memoir of my time in France, instead as a hark back to a time when children engaged in the world around them, unhampered by technology like smartphones, tablets, and the internet generally. Laptops were expensive. We didn’t even have the internet when I was a child to begin with, then came dial up… though even that was too painful to use. I remember the first time I ever used a PC was in France as a young child, a puzzle game – very simple but rather entertaining…
Those years I spent in France, at the time were very stressful for me, but as any Englishman does (not that this was even a concept to me at the time) – we get on with things. I met a nice Franco-American guy called Pascal who kindly helped me throughout my very earliest years of education and made lots of new French friends, invited to birthday parties, had running races through the central school yard, and played in the sand pit. Rather blissful.
The first time I ever went to a French school, I was left by Mummy with my new teacher, with his brushy moustache. Marc. He was the kindest influence on me and tolerated my inability to speak a word of French. The chatty little boy I was, I began explaining to him a great many things – only to find, English was not his mother tongue. This is when I met Pascal and a Friendship was born from necessity at first, but admiration soon followed.
I’m writing this, not as a memoir of my time in France, instead as a hark back to a time when children engaged in the world around them, unhampered by technology like smartphones, tablets, and the internet generally. Laptops were expensive. We didn’t even have the internet when I was a child to begin with, then came dial up… though even that was too painful to use. I remember the first time I ever used a PC was in France as a young child, a puzzle game – very simple but rather entertaining…
The forests that surrounded our home, in South West France
I remember the electricity going out often, due to overloading the system. Yes, that did used to happen. You couldn’t run more than a few things at once without the entire system going (this is when I learnt how to operate the fuse box).
I remember watching endless episodes of Fireman Sam on the video player and getting to understand how it operated (and broke). This was somewhat limited by my parents.
Otherwise we were in the pool, learning to swim or riding bikes down endless safe roads in the South West of France. The taste of milk down your throat being known for the first time after an extensive rally with your brother on two wheeled vehicles. The rush.
I was left to roam two acres of French woodland with my young brother Kristof (my younger sister Frances not yet born). We found lizards, entertained with their falling off tails – I’m not sure the lizards were in the ranks of the comedy set we formed but they always survived the day (we hope). They were often collected into little buckets to wonder at. I dream children today would be so entertained and left to wonder such strange little green creatures of earth.
We had superb fun getting ants drunk with small amounts of whisky, stolen from the cupboard and mixed with sugar. They danced in circles of craze. Again, I’m not sure the RSPCA would be quite so fond of our antics, but there we are. That was the world. Explored by tiny feet.
We explored through barns at our own peril, often filled with dangerous chemicals, extremely old furniture covered in rat and bat poop, but we survived. Papa built us two treehouses, the first when we lived there, and the second was a renovation of the first when the house became a holiday home for the long school holidays. We survived… It was a dangerous place to grow up as a child in many ways but a childhood I wouldn’t change one bit.
I remember watching endless episodes of Fireman Sam on the video player and getting to understand how it operated (and broke). This was somewhat limited by my parents.
Otherwise we were in the pool, learning to swim or riding bikes down endless safe roads in the South West of France. The taste of milk down your throat being known for the first time after an extensive rally with your brother on two wheeled vehicles. The rush.
I was left to roam two acres of French woodland with my young brother Kristof (my younger sister Frances not yet born). We found lizards, entertained with their falling off tails – I’m not sure the lizards were in the ranks of the comedy set we formed but they always survived the day (we hope). They were often collected into little buckets to wonder at. I dream children today would be so entertained and left to wonder such strange little green creatures of earth.
We had superb fun getting ants drunk with small amounts of whisky, stolen from the cupboard and mixed with sugar. They danced in circles of craze. Again, I’m not sure the RSPCA would be quite so fond of our antics, but there we are. That was the world. Explored by tiny feet.
We explored through barns at our own peril, often filled with dangerous chemicals, extremely old furniture covered in rat and bat poop, but we survived. Papa built us two treehouses, the first when we lived there, and the second was a renovation of the first when the house became a holiday home for the long school holidays. We survived… It was a dangerous place to grow up as a child in many ways but a childhood I wouldn’t change one bit.
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