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Newcastle-upon-Rance.
Absolute, verbatim truth. Word for word. Though please forgive my attempts at phonetics.
* pronounced carve. A place that stocks and sells wine in France.
As luck would have it, as we drove in we saw the cave had a wine tasting in full swing (obviously expecting us then!). We parked up and strode in.
“Ee up luvs. Canna ‘elp e?” Said the pleasant young lass at the door. In something approaching English.
A little surprised I stammered “Er, yes. Please. We’re looking to restock our cellar. How did you guess we were English?”
“Aye. It wur eeazy mun. Reeght ‘an’ driyeve mooeta an’ yer ‘air coot.” The girl replied.
“How long have you lived in France?” I asked by way of reciprocating with a little polite conversation.
“Wot yer mayene? Ah wur born ‘ere. Ah’m French ah am mun!” Leeved ‘ere ull muh liyef ah eave." She responded, a little indignantly. "Well ‘part frum cuppla yayers in Ayengluund. Ah wur Ooh Paear, see.” She continued. Gleefully.
“Oh I see. Sorry. My mistake. Whereabouts in Tyneside were you an Au Pair?”
“Noocassul.” Came the almost predictable answer. “Ow yer knoo ah wur ein Tynesiede?”
“It wur ‘air coot.” I replied.
She looked puzzled.
I’ve finished translating now.
For the day anyway.
