Writing is a hobby of mine. I have just published this silly bit of fun with Amazon. It is an alternative autobiography where I turn back the clock and do everything again. That everything is fiction but the opening chapter is FACT.
Memories of a French lesson with Mr Torode
Friday 11th October 1963: All French teachers at school are traditionally known as Frog, I suspect both within the pupil and staff membership of Boldmere High School for Boys in The Royal Borough of Sutton Coldfield but on this day Frog used his real name of Mr Torode, or at least we kids used it for him. A kid I was, I was a month away from being a teenager so that, I assume, left me still in the age of being a kid.
Mr
Torode had a portable record player on his desk at the front of the class.
Before playing a seven inch vinyl single on the turntable he passed round to
every boy a Banda duplicated sheet of paper upon which were typed these words.
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
Je me fous du passé
Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux
Balayer les amours
Avec leurs trémolos
Balayer pour toujours
Je repars à zéro
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi
Before placing the needle onto the record Mr Torode said, “Follow the words as you listen to the song.” A simple enough instruction and a simple song.”
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
Je me fous du passé
Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux
Balayer les amours
Avec leurs trémolos
Balayer pour toujours
Je repars à zéro
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi
“Je ne regrette rien,” Mr Torode said when the record finished. “I regret nothing,” he translated into English.
He then held up a photograph. “This is Edith Piaf, she sang the song you have just listened to. She died yesterday.”
The photograph had been cut from a newspaper. Torode gave it to the boy sitting in the desk nearest to his own and told us to pass it round the class.
“Edith Piaf,” he explained was a world famous French singer who died yesterday.”
“How old was she Sir ?”
“She was born in 1915 so do the Maths.”
French was my least favourite subject at school but Maths was my worse subject.
“Forty-eight Sir.” I wasn’t me who put my hand up to answer.
“She was old enough to be John Lennon’s mother then.”
Mr Torode ignored the flippancy and went on to tell us of Edith Piaf’s life story. Looking back across the decades I am reflecting on what a sad life she had lived, Mr Torode pulled no punches even tell of how Edith Piaf had been a prostitute in order to earn money to eat. Yes, I can reflect on that now but way back when Mr Torode spoke to we kids he totally engaged us.
“Yes I am a fan of the Beatles,” Torode said, “but I doubt when John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Star will be remembered for their music when they are fifty-eight years old.”
“How old are you then Sir ?”
Torode smiled and ignored the impudence. “Let me just say I am double your age. Double your age and a bit.”
I did the mental arithmetic and guessed every other member of the class was doing the same.
“I
am going to play Edith Piaf’s song again then I will set you your homework.”
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
Je me fous du passé
Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux
Balayer les amours
Avec leurs trémolos
Balayer pour toujours
Je repars à zéro
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien, qu'on m'a fait
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Car ma vie, car mes joies
Aujourd'hui, ça commence avec toi
“I regret nothing. Even at double your age, double your age and a bit I am too young to look back on my life and say I regret nothing. Perhaps when I am fifty-eight I will be old enough but I doubt I will be able to say I regret nothing.”
This was a French lesson not an RK lesson. (RK – religious knowledge). Was Mr Torode preaching a sermon ?
“Homework.
Take home your Banda sheet and translate Edith Piaf’s words into English. Bring
it back to class next lesson. A second piece of homework, when you are
fifty-eight look back on your life and see if you can say I regret nothing.”
David Ashford writing under the pen-name of Max Robinson www.maxrobinsonwriter.com
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