PUB USER: cathy_tregoning

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My name is Cathy Tregoning and I have been studying and speaking French for most of my life. I am passionate about translating French into English and English into French. In 2012 I completed my Bachelor of Arts with a Distinction in French Studies at Macquarie University in Sydney, Australia. I have attended a 4 week Stage in Paris in 2003 and another 3 week Stage in Lausanne, Switzerland in 2010. I travelled again to France in October/November 2013, and will relocate to France in 2014.

Article Title: (S. de Beauvoir, La Force de l’age, Editions Gallimard, 1960: 16)
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French: Ce qui me grisa lorsque je rentrai à Paris, en septembre 1929, ce fut d’abord ma liberté. J’y avais revé dès l’enfance, quand je jouais avec ma soeur à « la grande jeune fille ». Etudiante, j’ai dit avec quelle passion je l’appelai. Soudain, je l’avais; à chacun de mes gestes je m’émerveillais de ma légèreté. Le matin, des que j’ouvrais les yeux, je m’ébrouais, je jubilais.

Aux environs de mes douze ans, j’avais souffert de ne pas posséder à la maison un coin à moi. Lisant dans “Mon Journal” l’histoire d’une collégienne anglaise, j’avais contemplé avec nostalgie le chromo qui représentait sa chambre : un pupitre, un divan, des rayons couverts de livres ; entre ces murs aux couleurs vives, elle travaillait, lisait, buvait du thé, sans témoin : comme je l’enviai! J’avais entrevu pour la première fois une existence plus favorisée que la mienne. Voila qu’enfin moi aussi j’étais chez moi! Ma grand-mere avait débarrassé son salon de tous ses fauteuils, guéridons, bibelots.

English : What thrilled me the most about my return to Paris in September of 1929, was an inexplicable feeling of freedom. I had dreamed of this since childhood days when I used to play ‘grown-ups’ with my sister. As a student, I had always longed passionately for this moment. Now my dream had come true at last and I was floating on air. Each morning I opened my eyes in rapture and jubilation.

From about the age of twelve years I had suffered because I never had a space of my own at home. While reading “Mon Journal” one day I came across a story about a young English school girl and I gazed enviously at pictures of her room : a desk, a divan and shelves laden high with books. Within these brightly painted walls she appeared to work, read books and drink tea, all on her own. I was so envious of her. For the first time I had glimpsed a more exiting life than my own. Now I too had a room of my very own! My grandmother had thoughtfully cleared out all her sitting room of all its contents.
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