Teenagers! Who’d have them right? How
many times have we heard that, or said it? I mean, we all know what a pain in
the neck these in-betweener teeners can be (I made those words up there J).
Not young enough to be children anymore and not old enough to be treated as
adults, teenagers are often portrayed as a hormone fuelled, bad tempered,
unpredictable, selfish breed – no wonder they get bad press.
Teenagers!
All the above can certainly be true –
read chapter two of my latest book, Gozo
Is the Grass Greener? And you’ll get my drift. However, I would like to
tell you a heartening story, which I hope will show that sometimes, our
stereotype ideals are challenged.
So, what happened?
It was a hot day; one of those days
when all you want to do is jump in a swimming pool, or, in the absence of such
a luxury, sit in front of a fan and wilt like one of the dying sunflowers up
the road. The once bright smiling heads, now bent double as they admit defeat
and blacken in the stifling summer temperatures.
The once beautiful happy sunflowers
All dead and waiting for harvest time to make your sunflower oil
Steve was busy in the barn, which is
his latest project, and I was out with my dear friend ML having a coffee in the
wonderfully historic village of Castelsagrat. She and her author husband, James
Morgan Ayres were sojourning with us for a while prior to moving on to walk the
Camino De Santiago trail. James is writing a new novel entitled Pilgrims and Lovers; set against the
backdrop of the trail, they would soon be on their way to immerse themselves in
spirit and soul of the trail, which pilgrims have been doing for millennia.
This way for coffee
Coffee time (again) with our dear friends ML and James
My phone rang, and for a moment I was
startled, unaccustomed as I was to receiving calls here in France. It was Steve
asking me if one of the dogs was with me. Grolsch is a stunningly beautiful
German Shepherd, rescued from being dumped by the side of a road and eternally
grateful to his new owners Polly and Howard. His good looks surpassed only by his
supreme temperament, which is that of a gentle, and at times, slightly dopey,
bear. Grolsch was not with me, and it seemed, was AWOL. He had apparently snuck
off with his older and definitely naughtier sister Guinness, part Doberman,
part pointy nosed something, though we’re not quite sure what.
AWOL, the lovely Grolsch
Since Steve and I had moved into our
own little cottage in the south of France on a mutually beneficial house sit,
we had succumbed with alarming alacrity to Grolsch’s charms. Trotting up the
lane from his own house to visit us on a regular basis, especially at meal
times, he had embedded himself in our hearts and we loved him as if he was our
own. To hear that he was missing called
for immediate action.
If it involves food, it involves Grolsch!
ML and I left the café and drove the
short way home, stopping along the way to stare across the parched fields and
shout for Grolsch …………… nothing. We
returned, to find that an ingratiatingly apologetic Guinness had returned, but
without her younger and less experienced runaway companion. Not given to
disappearing, Grolsch’s absence was a real worry. Where was he? Was he hurt,
and lying by the side of a road somewhere, within earshot but unable to alert
us to his presence? We were all too aware that in the shimmering heat, he would
not do well for long without water and shade.
Having had an accident herself, Polly
was unable to physically go and search for her beloved pet, so Steve and I set
off, binoculars in hand, to see if we could locate Grolsch, leaving Polly to
man the phones in case someone called.
We drove around, trying to ignore the
suffocating and airless conditions, which were only personified in the confines
of the van, which stubbornly refused to allow me to wind down the passenger
window. We stopped every few hundred yards to see if the binoculars could pick
out the familiar fluffy gold and tan figure of Grolsch, but to no avail. An
hour ticked by and though we did not voice it, the fears that we both shared
began to show on our faces.
Where are you Grolsch?
As we approached our own village,
feeling despondent at the thought of going home without Grolsch, we spotted a
group of four young people on the road ahead. Three boys and one girl, all teenagers out
enjoying the summer sun. Gangly, loud and of course French; I wondered out loud
……..
“Shall I ask them if they’ve seen him?”
Steve shrugged, “Will they understand
you?” came his understandable reply.
He had a point. Ordering coffee in
French was one thing; an essential skill, which I had down to a tee, but trying
to explain our predicament to a group of teenagers …… hmm, that might prove a
bit more challenging.
“Well I’m going to try” I said
determinedly; I got out of the van, glad to be able to breathe some fresh air,
and, trying hard not to sound too stupid approached.
Okay, no one had a guitar, but I didn't get their photos!
“Pardon” I began, “Je cherche un chien”
Exchanging glances, the young people
ALL began to talk at the same time; loudly and quickly and with a LOT of hand
gestures. I stood there helplessly stuttering my usual excuse,
“Pardon, Je suis Anglais et ma Francais
est tres mal” (I’m English and my French is pants)
I know I know, it’s a grammatical
nightmare, but they seemed to understand me.
The older of the three boys, who was clearly the leader of the group,
stepped forward and asked me slowly what colour the missing dog was (in French
of course, but I won’t continue to appal you with trying to spell it all out). I
explained as best as I could and after a lot of stumbling and stuttering over
unfamiliar words, I think I managed to convey the issue to them, and, having
told them where we lived, they agreed to come and let us know if they happened
to see him. Merci.
As they wandered off, I looked through
my binoculars and swept them across the landscape, taking in a small
rectangular lake. I froze …….. What was that?
…………. Something was in the water, Oh My God he was in the water and
swimming for the bank. I turned wild eyed to Steve as I shouted, and pointed ……
“He’s in the water, right down there”.
The mini lake, way down in the fields, where I was SO convinced I saw Grolsch
Steve wasted no time, gunning the
little Kangoo van into first gear and yelling, “Get in”
However, before I had made my way back
to the van, the four young people who had been wandering off, ran back towards
us. Obviously alerted by my shouting, they reappeared and in a split second had
taken stock of what I was seeing. Without any hesitation whatsoever, they, shot
off, running like hares down the field, shouting to each other and
gesticulating wildly.
Steve was still waiting for me to show
a little action and repeated his request with a little more force – “GET IN”,
so I did and off we went again, chasing down a tiny lane, leaping out and
running the final few hundred yards to the unappealing stretch of green water,
which was now sadly devoid of any signs of life.
“But I saw him” I insisted, scouring
the water for any residual sign of him. Steve nodded, “I saw something too” he
acknowledged, but he had not had the benefit of my super duper Swarovski 10x32
EL binoculars to assist him, so was unsure as to what exactly was in there.
Me and my trusty binocs
As we stood disconsolate on the bank of
the lake, I heard a splash. Turning quickly, I noted with a certain amount of
concern that 2 of the boys had stripped to the waist and flung themselves, with
all the gung ho of their youth into the water. Yelling encouragement to each
other, and with much waving of arms and excited shouting, they swam the length
and breadth of the water with infectious enthusiasm.
I was speechless, yet smiling out loud;
we had met these young people for no more than a few minutes, and yet here they
were giving their all to help us in the search for Grolsch. While the 2 boys
swam up and down declaring that there was no dog here (Yep that was apparent)
Steve and I searched the banks for any evidence to suggest that Grolsch had
been here and managed to get out of the water.
In the end, we had to accept the
obvious – he was not here. He was never here. Whatever I had seen was NOT
Grolsch – he was still missing. With heavy hearts we toiled back up the slope
back to the van, thanking the young people and repeating details of where we
lived, just in case, they should find him.
We arrived back home and were
discussing what to do next when we heard the sound of a car. Our despair turned
to joy as in the back of the car was ……. Yes, …… Grolsch! He looked sheepish
and only slightly guilty, but otherwise was perfectly okay. The people who
returned him explained that they had found him over in the very village, where
ML and I had been having our coffee. Maybe he wanted to join us, who knows!
Our favourite burger fan was back
All was restored; Grolsch was overjoyed
to be home, and we retired into the house where I think I consumed my own
body weight in water.
Ten minutes later, we heard the dogs
barking. It was their “Someone is definitely here” bark, and Steve and I went
outside to investigate. To our surprise, it was the 2 boys who had jumped into
the water. They had come to inquire if we had found Grolsch. Enthused, I said
that we HAD indeed got him back and that he was well. We took the boys down to meet
Polly, who naturally thanked them profusely.
As they left, Polly asked me if I had a
€10 note to give them as a thank you for all their help – she was fresh out of
notes – I followed the boys up the drive and proffered the €10. Their response
impressed me almost as much as their determination to assist.
"Ah non Madame" they said, waving it away, "Ilest notre plaisir" (It's our pleasure)
I insisted however, and pushed the note into their hands as they shrugged, thanked me and left.
So why am I telling you this? Well, as I said earlier, teenagers often get negative press, and et, here was a perfect demonstration of young people at their absolute best. Their Enthusiastic, Energetic, Exuberant, Passionate Best, and I loved them for it.
Their friendly, honest support made my day and I still smile to think of them. We have never seen them again, so must assume they were visiting someone for the summer, but whoever you all were, Thank you, all of you; you are a credit to your generation.
So, come on, let's hear it for the teens J
Post Script
The mystery of what was in the water
was finally solved as it turned out that the mini lake was inhabited by a
coypu, or as the French call it, a ragondin. Watch this link and see why it had
me fooled!
Freya
