Le français sonne comme gobbledegook

Failing the Eleven Plus in 1959 was a big setback for me, though occurring just two years after mum's death in a motor accident, it wasn't exactly a surprise. Although I was in the top stream throughout my Secondary Modern education, a chasm quickly opened up between what we were taught and what the Grammar School taught their lowest streams.

Their chemistry, physics and biology were dumbed down to our General Science, Rural Studies and Health Education. Only in practical subjects like woodwork, metalwork, needlework, cooking and home economics did we excel... and the reason for that was all too plain to see —

• They were being trained to be society's leaders and thinkers; we were being trained to be the workers.

Thankfully, I eventually broke out of the system, took a college entrance test and was enrolled on a GCE O-level course.

One subject that was considered unnecessary for us Secondary Mod kids was French. Perhaps I would have hated it, but it would have been nice to have had the chance to find out.  Since then, thanks to a set of Reader's Digest cassette tapes, I've picked up enough French to make simple requests ('un verre de vin blanc, s'il vous plait'), ask for directions ('ou sont les toilettes?') and buy a railway ticket ('un aller-retour pour Epernay s'il vous plait') but most French still sounds to me like gobbledegook.

Now I'm doing something about it, and it's all thanks to my brother, who introduced me to the smartphone app Duolingo.

I started leaning French in August. The teaching style is totally unlike anything I've experienced in the past and it's great fun.  After a short break when my AirBnB cottage didn't have Wifi, I've clocked up 102 days without a break.

Here are a few screenshots of Duolingo in action:

I got this one wrong! Before the lesson is complete, I'll be asked again.

I realise that for many of my French-speaking friends this is pretty basic stuff, but it's transforming my understanding of the language, keeping my brain active and raising the distinct possibility that, next time I go to France, I'll actually be able to converse with people I meet.

Hoad Monument

I'll start this post where I ended the last one – on Gummer's How. In this photo, looking over Lakeside and towards the coastal town of Ulverston, I've crudely circled a monument at the top of a distant hill.  If you click the photo you'll hopefully get a slightly better view.

"I wonder what it is?" I mused.  A few days later, as our Lake District holiday drew to a close, I found out.

This is the Sir John Barrow Monument – hardly a snappy title, so locals call it Hoad Monument, for the very good reason that it sits on top of Hoad Hill.

Sir John was born near Ulverston. His father was a tanner, but young John had his sights set on greater things. At the age of 16 he went on a whaling expedition to Greenland and by his twenties he was teaching mathematics at a private school.  He became a founder member of the Royal Geographical Society and held several important government posts, eventually rising to that of Second Secretary to the Admiralty.

The townspeople of Ulverston were clearly proud of their local lad who made the big time, and after his death raised £1250 to build this 100ft tall monument.  Appropriately for a man who served the Admiralty, it looks like a lighthouse, though it has never housed a light.

A Wikipedia article notes the similarity between the Hoad Monument and this one – Smeaton's  Tower, which also doesn't have a light. Here's little me enjoying the sunshine on Plymouth Hoe, back in 2008.

Lakeside

After the exertions of climbing the Old Man of Coniston we both fancied a somewhat less energetic day. What better than a leisurely trip on a steam railway, followed by some pleasant sight-seeing?

The Lakeside & Haverthwaite Railway runs through 3¼ miles of pleasant riverside countryside to Lakeside, at the southern end of Windermere. It's probably unique among preserved railways in making direct connection with pleasure boats at one end – a feature that had already attracted three coach-loads of tourists before we arrived. Thankfully, though, the train was a long one and we had half the rear carriage to ourselves.

The best way to photograph railways is, of course, not to travel on them, but rather to find to some picturesque spot along the line and wait for the train to appear. Less enthusiastic souls like me simply take a few snaps in the stations, then hop on board. The photo above is out of sequence as it shows the train arriving at Lakeside for our return trip to Haverthwaite.

How many station platforms, I wonder, can boast a view like this, taken from our carriage window? 

A pleasure steamer arrives at Lakeside, ready to take those three coach-loads of tourists for their cruise up the lake. Many years ago, with my in-laws and two young sons in tow, I made the mistake of hopping on board for a cruise to Bowness and back – 2 hours of total boredom. In fairness, everyone else seemed to enjoy themselves, but it was far too tame for me.  I longed to be closer to the water in my little Enterprise dinghy.

At Lakeside thoughts turned to coffee and cake. The station cafeteria was heaving with humanity, so we sought out the genteel elegance of the Lakeside Hotel. We were shown through to the hotel's palatial conservatory where an immaculately uniformed waitress informed us that they don't serve cake in the mornings, but they do have homemade shortbread.  Would that do?  Yes indeed it would. We each ordered a cafetiere of coffee (one decaffeinated for S--; one fully caffed for me) and settled down to browse the menus.

"O crikey, just look at this," I remarked. "Afternoon Tea here is £64 for two people, and wine starts at £8.50 for a small glass. What have we let ourselves in for?"  We resolved to be brave, keep smiling and load it all on a Visa card. 

When we had been offered cafetieres, I'd imagined that they would be the small 'one cup' variety. How wrong can you be? In my mind the bill rose by another pound or eight.  The shortbread slices – two plain and two flavoured with root ginger – were, however, delicious.

As we ate and drank, I gazed across the water towards a hill called Gummer's How. "That looks interesting," I declared. "I'd really like to climb that one."

"So much for our leisurely day," muttered someone with a mouthful of shortbread.

Three cups of coffee (each) later, S-- rose to pay the bill, then invited me to guess what it was.

"£20?"   "Less."

"£15?"   "Less!"

"Um... £10?"   "Almost right.  It was £9.50!"

£9.50 for 6 cups of coffee and 4 slices of delicious shortbread was remarkably good value for money. Well done, Lakeside Hotel!... though I don't think we'll be returning for Afternoon Tea. 

Compared to the Old Man, our walk up Gummer's How was a gentle stroll, but the views were nonetheless spectacular. In these two I'm looking back down to Lakeside. The River Leven can be seen on it's twisty way down to Ulverston and the sea.

It was very windy up there!

Finally, here's the view in the opposite direction. Storm clouds were gathering. The following day would be a washout, and though that didn't stop us tackling a fell walk (and getting drenched) there are no photographs to record it.