BLOGTROTTING

    In summer 1970, aged 15, I first set foot on foreign soil. I went, chaperoned by aunty Lily, for a long weekend to Paris. As was the fashion in those days, encouraged by language teachers, I had a French pen friend. Her name was Geneviève Gabens and she lived in Vincennes near Paris. We swapped things that 15-year-olds do – pictures of pop stars, teen mags, etc. Hence at 15, pictures of sultry Julien Clerc and Sacha Distel adorned my bedroom wall alongside David Cassidy and Donny Osmond. Aunty Lily organised it all. We flew from Ashford on a shaky old turbo prop plane, the first time I had ever flown. Having suffered from travel sickness since a child, flying was no better, and by the time we touched down at Beauvais, I was green and throwing up. I was hardly aware we were in France until we arrived in the airport shuttle bus at Place de la République. I was about to start the weekend that changed my life. Geneviève and her father were waiting for us at R...