I walked with Patrick today, a former train driver and mayor of his commune, now retired and still in his fifties.
Once again the weather was fine, with a strong wind that drove us along, and the walking was easy, along dirt roads through deciduous woods.
Wainwright complained about the pine plantations that were springing up in the north. He preferred the natural English (or European) woods. So do I.
Patrick and I talked of many things, of la langue d'Oc, etymology, the old question of tutoyer versus vousvoyer, and of course, trains.
It is always a pleasure to talk about words. Apparently, Occitan, the langue d'Oc, is still spoken and is taught in the schools. Patrick told me about words in Occitan which were very similar to those in English, for example, esquirol for squirrel.
As we walked, the broom was in flower, and I explained the link between the French word (genet) and the Plantagenet kings of England. He said that in Occitan the word was "bruch" like " broom" or "brush", and in fact, the local people would use the broom for that purpose. And I suppose that is the origin of the word in Emglish as well. The strands of the bush can be bound together to make a simple broom.
He also said that the word for corkscrew in Occitan was not "tire-bouchon" but "gimblet", which resembles the English "gimlet". He told the story of his friend who was travelling in England and was desperate to find a corkscrew to open his bottle of wine. The man in the store understood the Occitan word because, Patrick maintained, it resembled the English one. Personally, I think it may have been the frantic gestures which got the meaning across.
We talked about the distinction between using the second person singular (tu) for friends and family, and the second person plural (vous) for more formal acquaintances.
I asked him what happens if someone addresses you as "tu" when you're not ready for that level of intimacy. He gave me a couple of sayings to use to get the message across. They translate literally as "We haven't kept the pigs together" and "One doesn't mix the tea towel and the table cloth".
I can understand how they would make someone who was becoming a bit too familiar keep his distance.
We also talked about the tragic train crash which was in the news when we were in France in the eighties. On a single railway line, a station master had sent a passenger train down the track, forgetting that another train was coming in the other direction. Since that time, all French trains have been equipped with radio.
He agreed that the accident would not have happened had the French railways followed the Australian, or English, system for single track lines, whereby a train could only enter a section of line if the driver was carrying a staff. Each station at the end of the section had a machine in which was locked the staff. Only one staff could be released at a time for that section.
I used to be fascinated to watch the engine driver and the station master exchange the staff as a train passed through a station without stopping.
It was a simple but foolproof system to allow only one train on the track at a time.
With conversation like this, the day passed quickly, and we soon arrived in Auch, a cathedral town and prefecture for the Department of Gers.
Tonight we are staying at a presbytery in the centre of town, with a view of the cathedral, all for a donation, "each according to his means".
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