1967 - THE SUMMER OF LOVE - LILLE UNIVERSITY

SETTLING IN

Having just about survived the crossing from Dover to Boulogne-sur-mer, a great trial for me, always having hated and feared water and the boats thereon, the motley band of teenagers stood with our large amounts of luggage until we were met by others all going to the language course, which was run under the auspices of the University of Lille. It was being held in a boys’ boarding school situated in the Rue de la Porte Gayole.

A long line of students from many different European countries as well as from the UK, trudged wearily up the cobbled road with our belongings. I had reason to be grateful to my ingenious Dad who had invented a long strap with wheels to help me with my case – in 1967 suitcases on wheels had not been heard of, at least not by me.

At the school, we were checked in and shown to our dormitories, long rooms with loads of beds, a bedside table/cupboard alongside each bed, with just a curtain for privacy. We settled into the girls’ dormitory and were shortly called down for a meal in the large dining hall. Of course the girls from my school all sat together, but were soon mixing with other students. I can still remember part of the meal was Bouchee a la Reine, very nice it was. We soon got used to very acceptable meals throughout the 3 weeks of our stay.

Bathrooms were not such a pleasant experience.  The school itself was extremely modern by English standards, There were actually no baths, just showers, which in 1967 were a complete novelty to the British contingent. Being a boys’ school, the showers were in a long line, separated one from the other by a curtain on three sides – but no curtain to draw on the in/out side, presumably so teachers could walk along and make sure the lads were not getting up to anything untoward. This was definitely not a very British modus operandi.  One or two of us risked a quick shower wearing swimming gear, but most of us it was just a quick wash down when nobody was about to witness it. So much for the Swinging Sixties and free love – this obviously did not extend to girls seeing each others’ private bits! It was well noted by all that the loud and strident German girls, however, had no shame at all in strutting up and down in the altogether, and took showers frequently. Exhibitionists obviously.

In the common room, we all signed up for various escorted trips and outings. The large room had table tennis tables, cards and chess games which were no doubt meant to encourage the various nationalities participating in the ‘Cours de Francais pour les etrangers’. If so, the plan failed. There was a little bit of mixing, but mostly people kept in their own peer groups, in spite of the fact we all spoke French to a fair standard. On the whole, free time was spent roaming the streets of Boulogne, and exploring the cathedrale and other interesting buildings of the old fortress overlooking La Manche.

The street we stayed in, the Rue de la Porte Gayole, was so named as one of the ancient town gates, a stone archway, was situated at the top of the hill, and the battlements, partly lit at night, provided a great meeting place for girls and boys alike. Mostly the Brits, it had to be said, as they discovered beer and vin rouge, many for the first time, thus setting the pattern for a lifetime’s indulgence!. And no doubt other pleasures were discovered for the first time too. And I don’t mean Croque-Monsieur, though that was a much enjoyed speciality. Rather commonplace these days though. And of course, there was the beach. Being ‘The Summer of Love’, I leave you to imagine the fun and games a hundred or so students had for three weeks of perfect sunshine!

LESSONS A LA FRANCAIS

We were divided into various classes for tuition, with students from many nationalities, which made for a great assortment of French accents. And it was interesting to observe the different attitudes to education – some of the students were after all a little older than most of us and not much younger than the tutors.  It was here I first heard the news that Belgians didn’t all speak French as a first language – there was a particularly arrogant and annoying Belgian in my class, a proper know-it-all, who every five minutes it seemed took upon himself to remind us that he was NOT Belge-francais, he was BELGE FLAMMAND’ (he was very loud too). Still he was always butting in, correcting everyone and adding his own slant on things. Worst of all, he thought he was God’s gift to women (who were most definitely inferior beings), and could not understand at all why none of the Anglaises, who he obviously thought would be an easy target for his charms,  were not interested in him at all.

I enjoyed the lecons, and even the homework which was not that challenging, and we were free most afternoons to go about our own pursuits, which of course included art galleries, museums and an almost daily parade along the ramparts of the vieille cite’, where we would meet like minded intellectuals and have lively debates on many subjects, which if I remember rightly included who was best – Beatles or Stones. Being the era of Swinging London, and the Summer of Love to boot, us English girls were very popular in our mini skirts and mod hairdos, so much so that it didn’t take long to find new friends of the male persuasion, much to the annoyance of some of the other nationalites. Oh and the beach figured largely in our pursuit of French culture.

ALL GOOD THINGS

The end came all too soon; it did not seem like three weeks since we had arrived at the cite’ universitaire’ and claimed our places in the dorm;  our French had much improved, as we spoke it even amongst ourselves as a matter of good taste, as it was after all the common language of the group.

Nearly everyone of the English contingent were on the LCC Travel Scholarship scheme. The idea was for each pupil to book periods of 3 or 4 weeks staying with a family in different parts of France. These had to be approved by the authorities well in advance, as arrangements for payment to the host family as well as delivery of pocket money to ourselves had to be in place. It was sad saying goodbye to new friends and old, as we all split up to go to our various billets. Some of us exchanged addresses, hoping to perhaps meet up again on our travels.

What a fabulous Summer this was going to be!