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Ok so husband just broke it to me that I talked in my sleep TWICE last night, a new personal best.
The first time was about a delicious recipe @callanjd posted about last week, and which I am cooking on Sunday. I woke up in the middle of the night worrying about whether it would be ok and delicious, very sensible worries.
The second dream, however, is properly disastrous, and fans of not being traumatised should look away now. It concerns my first ever French language test.
We had the most amazing first class of French. I was ??? years old, and really had no idea that English was not only *a* language, but also *one of the many available languages*, what on Earth.
So then some dude shows up and says, “Hello, you have been speaking English, in English, to the English, and I am now going to teach you to speak French, for some reason to the English, in England, which is by the way where you are”.
“For context, the French live in France with bread and wine, and yes wine is a thing and just as much a thing as bread, but do not try to toast it”.
[Some parts of this thread may not be strictly 10 out of 10 not even joking verbatim, but I promise you the next bit is]
Anyway, so this very exciting man with his wild ideas about people who live outside Canterbury not necessarily always speaking words which it now turns out themselves possibly English, he now starts promising to teach us to speak this thing called French.
And he teaches us to count from one to ten in French, using a supercool song, and very small Andy thinks, “I love these people with their very strange words, and well done them for always singing this is brilliant”
