1968: LE SURPRISE PARTY!

Monday, 19 Aug

Wore my black and white dress and found it far too short for France.

Isabelle’s English is adorable. Asking for the lettuce at lunch she said, “Daddy, the green leaves please”!!!

Very gay evening meal - they spoil me. I must be careful not to show off.

Tuesday, 20 Aug

Jean-Marie and Simone

Talked about marriage at lunch - in France men are marrying younger. “Bientot Éric sera un vieux garçon!” said Mme Pouchyn. Poor Éric looked embarrassed. Jean-Marie wasn’t there but popped in just in time for the chocolate mousse. It was a staggering lunch: finely sliced tomatoes with mayonnaise on a ‘bed’ of lettuce with garlic and chopped egg, then a delicious slice of meat with a stuffed tomato on top.

Mme P drove us to Le Touquet. I am fed up with my typically English un-smart clothes - oh the things in Teen House. Incredible crepe blouses with the palest flowers, cotton blouses with thin stripes, rib jumpers with round necks and half sleeves, huge leather belts, the lot.

Mme Pouchyn is utterly envious of all the "c'est jolie, hein..." houses on the outskirts of Le Touquet. All very large and Burwood-Parky, and all of them foul! Civilised and middle-class and everything.

Felt rather clever this evening. I changed the plug for my dryer. I thought, if Chump can do it, I can!

Wednesday, 21 Aug

In ‘Jours de France’ there are some photos of Francoise Hardy in her new house in Corsica - with Jacques Dutronc!!! What would I give to be her!!! Yet she always looks rather triste.

At lunch everyone discussed a “surprise party pour les jeunes” on Saturday. Simone showed little enthusiasm, and turned red when they remarked on it. We also discussed the education system in France. You have to cover every single subject and if there’s one you can’t do, you’ve failed your ‘bac’. What is the point of working so hard?? Simone often works till 1am.

We went to Boulogne, and Boulogne is rather nice: a steep main street, old city walls, heavenly shoes and bags. I love the country people, the farmers and so on, but the working-class French are pasty-faced and shabby looking. Went to a Salon de Thé and had two patisseries but wish I’d had Simone’s chestnut one.

Monsieur and Madame’s grandparents saw three wars in their lifetime, including the Prussian one of 1870. I hope I see none. We talked about military service and when I said it’s better to leave it to “les gens stupides” who like fighting, Monsieur pointed his thumb at me and made a funny expression - he likes the Army!!

Thursday, 22 Aug

Éric

Simone and me opened the front door - to SUNSHINE! We left for Denise’s house and met Isabelle. The attic was unbearably hot but we each played four games. Isabelle is hilarious, whenever it’s not her point she goes “ah ha, tu triches, hein...!” We were killing ourselves.

As usual saw the News on the TV throughout the first course at lunch. There’s a crisis in Czechoslovakia and I haven't a clue what’s happening. I don’t understand politics.

Mme P is always telling Simone to do her hair differently to how she does it already, and is now imploring Éric to have his hair cut: it’s shorn at the back but the front droops into his eyes. Then we went to the beach and paddled au bord de la mer.

Had potato omelette for dinner. I had three helpings and I’m now afraid of getting fat. M. Pouchyn kept on trying to tempt me (“je suis le diable, hein!”) with a peach. They told me I wasn’t too fat or too thin, just right. Then Mme P said Simone is too thin. Poor Simone, I rather wish they’d let her alone. They keep comparing her unfavourably with me. Mme Pouchyn has told me five times this holiday that I have beautiful hair.

Friday, 23 Aug

I was awake from 5am to 6am having a battle with a midge. The midge won.

Came downstairs to find more “courrier” - they’re thinking of investing in a letter box just for me! Letter from Caty who had a marvellous time in Strasbourg and, lucky thing, met tons of boys. She says she gets on badly with her parents. Having fantastic ones, I sympathise. I said the reason mine are so good is because they’re artists, ie. they encourage change, and their ideas are never static.

Went to the beach and swam up to my waist. It was lovely and warm coming out. Did French verbs; highly depressing. Had a cold lunch in the chalet and were joined by Monsieur P. Had no second helpings as I have decided to MAIGRIR. Got back to find a letter from Ma and Pa. Pa wrote, “Chump is deteriorating into a scientist”. Her latest marvellous idea is invisible ink so instead of a letter she sends me an empty sheet of paper which I heat until the words appear. Thirty-four matches later I burnt three holes and managed to decipher the remains!

At dinner they teased me about being a great writer, what with my letters and diary.

Isabelle had us in fits again.

Saturday, 24 Aug

Felt a bit worried about the party. Wore my hair loose. It was straight but salty.

The party was at the old Yacht Club. About ten people were there and we shook hands with all of them. A white sail cut the room in two: the area around the bar was lit and the other bit was dark. I chatted to one girl with short fair hair, terribly nice, and was introduced to a boy I saw on Tuesday, who said “re-bonsoir”. He and his younger brother (who wore a blue cowboy shirt!) looked identical. Marie-Francoise is their sister, you couldn’t imagine a sweeter girl. His name is Charles-Edouard.

The party turned out to be the best I’ve ever been to. But the dancing was rock & roll!! Simone asked Éric to teach me but he never had time… I think it was Charles-Edouard who first asked me to dance. After that I had to explain to everybody that we don’t dance rock & roll in England. Jean-Marie helped me quite a lot; the only difficult bit was when I had to take the hand behind his back and do a ‘truc’ with multiple turns. He’s hilarious, he dances like Groucho Marx. It’s gorgeous to watch if it’s done well - Simone is terrific. But the poor thing had to dance the whole evening with this ‘casse pied’ who was an utter show-off.

Most of the time the DJ was this gorgeous boy called Bertrand, with a blue striped crepe shirt and a Finkelstein grin. The music was incredible - absolutely every record was English. Charles-Edouard said he forgot his English when he gave it up aged 16, “six years ago” (is he really 22?). C-E is the quiet, intelligent, artistic type and I like him awfully. I think he likes me quite a lot because he danced with me the most. Towards the end, surprise of surprises, up came Bertrand and asked me to dance too. When I made a mistake he did a lovely smile, but I was quite good by that time.

Best of all was the slow dancing. I danced with C-Ed about 15 times. Twice they played ‘Dock of the Bay’ and once ‘This Guy’s in Love with You.’ We held each other tight and sometimes he held so tight I could hardly breathe. It was such bliss I laid my head on his shoulder. It was a lovely way of appreciating the music, it really was. Sometimes I closed my eyes. I told him I was nearly asleep. He said he hoped I didn’t snore!

I couldn’t believe the party lasted six hours. Everyone washed up. Charles-Edouard didn’t talk to me, but when we said goodbye, he said “à demain”. What did he mean? I looked so hideous it’s very unlikely he’d ring me up or anything.

Simone and me nearly died of laughter creeping in. It was 2.15 and Monsieur P had said at all costs we had to finish at one. Went to the lav and Simone wouldn’t let me pull the chain.

Charles-Ed’s brother and Bertrand

Sunday, 25 Aug

Felt miserable all day about Charles-Edouard, and tried to imagine how it was last night. The Club is the only place I could see him again. I shall die if I can’t hold him tight soon. Him or Bertrand.

Éric came back at 3am - his parents still don’t know! At lunch Monsieur said he heard I’d had “du succès.” I said what I so liked was everybody danced with everybody else. In England, the first boy who looks at you is your partner for the evening (and that usually means snogging). I didn’t feel like any food the whole day, and felt shivery and weak. It must have been the sharp changes in temperature last night: the blazing fire one minute, and the cold night air the next.

After lunch we went to De Panne. It was packed with Sunday tourists and it stank. We got out as quickly as we could.

I never knew before what heaven it is to be held tight to a boy - when will I again? I was miserish this evening. I hope I get out of this longing-in-vain mood soon.

“Her latest marvellous idea is invisible ink”