Make Mistakes, with Confidence

Being in France at the moment it's not surprising that some of the memories of Dad that immediately spring to mind are of our family trips to this country in the 80s and Dad's attempts to teach us a little of the local language and customs. He taught us (and the French) about the delicacy 'salade de potate' and, somewhat scarily, he tried to show the French the correct way to negotiate a roundabout while looking for the house in Nantes in which he'd spent an exchange visit in his own childhood.

Dad's occasional slips were amusing but they importantly demonstrated his willingness to give it a go and not be afraid of making mistakes. He tried to instil this attitude in us, but he didn't have much success at the time. I'd like to think that I'm now finally following his advice ... and making my own mistakes to prove it. When I discovered last week that I'd accidentally ordered two table tennis tables my thoughts immediately went back to Dad's French lessons. I hoped he'd be proud!

Marc