Another trip that escaped the initial trawl of my diaries.
Maison St Antoine, Marcoussis, Paris, 10th February 1990
Here with David W. David then taught at The Manor in Wilburton, a residential school catering for children with special educational needs. He was trying to set up an exchange partnership with Maison Saint-Antoine in Marcoussis, which offered young people, often from disadvantaged backgrounds, the opportunity to train in horticulture and related skills.
How to describe today? Hectic, stressful and intense, kaleidoscopic and exciting, fun, friendly and relaxed.
David and I were up early, despite the long day of travelling and late arrival yesterday. We strolled round the chateau and the remains of a moated castle to breakfast with the Director, a priest known to the students as Papi – croissants au chocolat, toasted baguette and strong coffee served in large bowls. Afterwards a tour of the greenhouses where flowers were grown commercially. Then the classrooms, basic but adequate, with that slightly down at heel look associated with conversions of older property done on a too tight budget. The Director’s office was in the chateau; he sat behind a battered Second Empire desk in the faded grandeur of a room with high, painted ceilings, elegant panelling and tall balconied windows.
We were there to talk about the proposed partnership. David had some French and the negotiations were facilitated by a very fluent translator. I was a mute observer. The discussion seemed to merge naturally into preparations for lunch – new arrivals, introductions, shaking hands, talking, children playing and someone making of Kir Royale. We gathered round an ample table and a long noisy session ended at three o’clock with applause for the chef.
Then a mad tour of Paris through hooting traffic in the Director’s car – he drove as though he had personal assurance that God was on his side: La Defense, Eiffel Tower, La Madeline, the Opera, Sacre Coeur, Place du Tertre, Champs Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, Place de la Concorde and Notre Dame.
Back to Sainte Antoine, with barely time to brush up before dashing off to the Technical Director’s house for dinner with him, his wife, two beautiful daughters and half a dozen other school staff. A social evening eating round a Savoyard regional cheese dish, a close cousin of fondue. Much noise and talk; and wine that liberated of David’s French tongue and paralysed mine. Back at the Maison feeling mellow around midnight.