My mother gave me a fruitcake to give to the French. She’d arranged the trip for me with a friend who worked at the local girl’s grammar school. I was to be the only boy amongst thirty 16 year old schoolgirls going on a French exchange to Paris. Sounded reasonable to me, I might learn a thing or two. I did and it wasn’t all French. To put this in context I was a boarder at the local all boy’s grammar school. My contact with any girls at all was minimal. Our school did no such sort of exchange with … Continue reading Dark chocolate and a baguette.