Foreign exchange

It was only as I typed the heading you can read above that I realised it might quite reasonably apply to a completely different type of exchange to the one I was intending to write about.  So let's get that out of the way first.

Brighton (and Hove, too) is packed to the gunwales with foreign students.  Not only do the two universities attract vast numbers, but we also have language schools galore.  Hosting the students from those language schools is almost a cottage industry in the city suburbs, especially during the summer months when the numbers seem to escalate exponentially.  So much do they escalate, that there are complaints every year about overcrowded buses amongst other things.  For a while, the Old Bat and I hosted such students.  The first was a delightful Norwegian boy, aged about 14.  The second was another Norwegian, also aged about 14, but he was so out of control that we had to ask for him to be rehoused.  The third and last was a German lad of about 18 who was another delight - to the extent that he was happy to help about the house and garden.  But the payment really wasn't worth the hassle as far as we were concerned so we packed it in after...  I can't remember his name... left.

We packed it in until I, then President of Brighton Lions Club, received a phone call from the President of a Lions Club in Lyon, France.  His son, aged about 20, would be studying English in Brighton for a year.  Would any member of Brighton Lions Club be willing to host him?  It just so happened that my elder son would be leaving for a year in Australia just about the time Phillipe would be arriving in England.  My wife was already missing her oldest fledgling (even though he was still at home) so she jumped at the opportunity to mother another.

I drove to Heathrow airport to collect Phillipe only to find that he wasn't on the flight he (or his father) had told me.  It probably hadn't helped that my French was distinctly rusty and none of the French spoke English!  Eventually we met at a different Heathrow terminal where Phillipe had arrived on an Air France flight instead of the BA flight I had been told about.

Despite that somewhat inauspicious start to his stay, Phillipe proved to be a charming young man, full to the brim of Gallic courtesy.  My daughter, who must have been about 14, developed quite a crush on him and wasn't even jealous when he introduced us to a very good-looking girl he had met at the language school.  But all good things come to an end and Phillipe eventually returned to warmer parts, complete with the white Rolls Royce he had bought while over here!  He ran that as a wedding car for a while after his return to Lyon.

Then a friend of Phillipe's parents rang.  Her daughter Laurence would be studying in Brighton.  Could we...?  We could and did and, while not quite as much a part of the family as Phillipe had become, she proved another easy guest.  As did Charles, Phillipe's younger brother, when he, too, studied English here in Brighton.

There have been other requests since then.  Not made directly to us but to Brighton Lions generally.  That is the case when we as a city host so many overseas students.  Much as we have enjoyed having young foreign guests, we are now too elderly (and decrepit) to be able to face doing it again.

But that isn't what I had intended writing about when I typed "Foreign exchange" as the tile of this piece and I don't have time for any more right now.  Maybe tomorrow.

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Although there was some early morning sun towards the end of last week, it has quickly turned into grey, January weather.  I grabbed the opportunity for another "from the bedroom window" picture.