"Voozave bian eleve votrrrrrr fis! Tulemondladorrre alondr!"

We are standing on the Levis shop floor in Poitiers, France, and just like that - with a phrase crafted for me by my friend Ola and to a delight of my fellow-commuters BILLION-times repeated out loud on various commutes around London,
the Big moment is over.

Unlike with a major earthquake, the ground didn't tremble and the ceiling did not end up falling on my head, but as expected with the world-shaking events, the landscape is forever transformed.

Mainly because my world got more beautiful/bizarre, flavoursome and adventurous with a bunch of people and places, family dramas, histories and futures, that I would have never imagine.

"Welcome to a crazy family,"

David's mum said teary-eyed, whilst hugging all of us on that Levis shop floor, after I attempted to proclaim in French how well she's raised her son and that everyone in London loved him.

I've met The Mum. It's done. Now onwards and upwards with the rest of our lives. You see, there were reasons to worry, based partially in my inherent paranoia and partially given the family history, but we all grow and evolve and no matter what pace and obstacles, at least we grow towards each other, acceptance and ultimately...love.

It was meant to be just a few days, but man did we manage to cram a lot in. Playing the 'older brother' card, when helping to set up and in a way supervise Mimi's 18th birthday celebration (with twenty teenagers in a country house - wow, I wish I was that popular), which is strange and disturbing, as we found ourselves stuck somewhere in the middle - not quite on the teenage level of fun to enjoy and merge in seamlessly, but also nowhere near old enough to hang out with the parents, smoking pipe and discussing the climate change and Putin (cause that's what parents do?).

Reading in front of the fireplace with a walnut vodka done (Rooms by Lauren Oliver, which made me excited again about writing), the worlds most amazing maffé from David's beautiful mom devoured in three helpings, followed by a marron glacé (sugar glazed chestnut) from a grandad, that will most definitely not become my favourite treat.

Something still boggles one's mind - during our visit, David's
grand-père dug out an old marriage certificate + a wedding photo from when he got married in Edinburgh, by a BLACKSMITH. I'm talking about bearded-corpulent-leather apron-clad, huge hammer and anvil blacksmith. Cause that's something you do when in Edinburgh. The really intriguing bit is, he 'married' some random woman from the tourist group, whilst his real-life wife, David's grandmother, stood in the back row of that bizarro wedding photo laughing (or maybe crying in despair - the two becoming at some point indistinguishable). So many questions, but I'll have to wait for when I get more proficient in French (2017???).

David - driving a humongous Toyota that I had to climb in using a ladder, took me to visit a town which I remember only as Chambord de Rouge (ups Google maps says its Châtellerault), almost exclusively inhabited by swarms of teenagers. This youth influx made sense to me later on, when David's dad told me Chambord is considered as one of the areas with the highest unemployment rates in the country, ever since the industry faltered some twenty years ago, which only makes sense, cause if there's nothing else to do, you do babies I guess.

And well, as for some their knickers are dropping seeing a guy chopping wood (preferably in an unbuttoned red flannel shirt), in my case - seeing how much about family my Frenchie is, how barefaced and noble he's in the affections towards them, protective and caring, very much did the trick for me.

Unfortunately, I chose to express this right there in a car, whilst waiting to pick up Mimi's deeply catholic friend from the train station in Naintré, not noticing in a heat of all that expressing neither the coming train nor the poor teenager, who's faith (in humanity) must have been well tested that night.

My family just got so much bigger and bonkers, so right now (maybe thanks to the fever) feeling all kinds of things inoubliable et éperdument amoureuse, and even though I came home with a beautiful gift of norovirus (don't ask and let's never ever talk about it), guess what - there are re-runs of Stargate on the telly. 0

Win win.

Frenching About from Jakub Vítek on Vimeo.