Post 57. Le Havre 3. My Places: Six Addresses That Shaped My Story
As I mentioned in the first post in this series, I spent the academic year 1987-88 working as an English Language Assistant in two junior secondary schools, or collèges, in the city.
Before starting, I had to attend an induction and training course in Rouen. The Académie de Rouen was the education authority for Upper Normandy at the time, and all the English language assistants posted throughout the region were brought together on a university campus for two or three days.
There I met a dozen or so other assistants who were heading for the wider Le Havre area. We arranged to meet at the train station (la gare) the following Saturday at 3pm, and this quickly became a weekly social outlet that I welcomed and looked forward to - we had all been thrown in at the deep end in our different schools, with varying degrees of support. Some assistants were based in small towns such as Fécamp, Lillebonne or Bolbec, with limited train and bus services, while others were placed in outlying suburbs such as Montivilliers or Caucriauville. Most schools gave their new assistant free, basic accommodation on site, or found them a cheap bedsit or studio within walking distance.
My Two Schools
I was both fortunate and unlucky at the same time. Both of my schools, Collège Gérard Philipe (Photo 3) and Collège Irène Joliot-Curie (Photo 6), were within walking distance of the city centre. However, neither school provided accommodation nor helped me find a flat - I was simply given the address of the local YMCA hostel!
Joliot-Curie liked to think of itself as one of the better schools in the city. Many of the male teachers wore suits and ties, and the principal was very officious. I still fondly remember the names of some of the English teachers I worked with - Rémi, Martine, Jean-Jacques and Hélène. I worked there three days a week, and at Gérard Philipe for the other two.
Gérard Philipe was in a less salubrious part of town, and it took me a good 20 minutes to get there on foot. The children were great, though, and their humour and enthusiasm were infectious. I loved the fact that the staff dining room had one large square table, which helped me get to know the teachers well.
I was able to eat lunch in both schools on any day I chose. I used to look forward to seeing the menus for the following week posted on a Friday, so that I could choose the better one on a daily basis. I don't remember how much it cost, but it was heavily subsidised and a great way for a poor assistant from Ireland to be able to eat well and healthily - they even served wine and beer!
First Home: The UCJG Hostel
Fortunately, the UCJG hostel (Union Chrétienne des Jeunes Gens, the French YMCA) (Photo 5) was smack bang in the middle of the main boulevard between the train station and the beach. It was within walking distance of both my schools and a 20-minute stroll from the beach, and cinemas and cafés were only ten or fifteen minutes away. I hated the place, though! It was very difficult to get to know the other residents, who, if I remember correctly, were mostly young workers rather than students. The only one I ever became friendly with was Marouan, who was from Palestine.
The old hostel never looked this good! It now seems to have been redeveloped into what looks like a luxury apartment block - no surprise really, given that it stands next to the Palais de Justice, on the main thoroughfare into the city centre from the station, with a new tram stop just outside the door.
Second Home: 58 rue Gabriel Péri
I stayed at the hostel for two months or so, as I couldn't find anywhere else I could afford on my meagre salary of about 3,500 FF a month - roughly €1,050 in today's money. Then, having become friends with Graeme, an assistant from Manchester who was living in the outer suburbs, we decided to share, as he wanted to move into the city centre. After much searching, we found a small furnished flat on the first floor of 58 rue Gabriel Péri (Photo 4), very close to one of my schools. Furnished flats were as rare as hen's teeth in Le Havre at the time, so we gladly signed the contract, even though it meant sharing a bedroom! How many 20-somethings in 2026 would accept that compromise? Certainly neither of my children would!
Nearly 40 years on, the building looks a little worse for wear. I was half-tempted to ring the doorbell and say hello to the older lady who lived in the ground-floor flat below us, but logic stepped in and reminded me that she would now be at least 110!
Party Central: 6 rue Frédéric Bellanger
Having our own flat meant that we could finally entertain the other assistants. Up until then, "Party Central" had been a first-floor flat at 6 rue Frédéric Bellanger (Photo 1), home to two fellow English language assistants, Marian and Alison. If my memory serves me correctly, they were the only residents in the building, so there were never any complaints about noise from the neighbours - just the occasional one from the ambulance station on the ground floor directly below!
On our walk around the city this time, I saw that the ambulance station has become a local grocery shop, the Épicerie de la plage.
The RU
Our new flat was a short walk from the Restaurant Universitaire, where we discovered we could eat every weekday evening for 10 FF - about €3 in today's money. There's no photo of this building as I couldn't remember what street it was on, and Google was of no use.
Officially, we weren't allowed to buy meal tickets, as we weren't registered students in Le Havre, but we simply turned up each evening and bought a ticket from someone in the queue ahead of us. This became another social outlet, and we met several students who became firm friends - names like Aline, Céline and Nathalie come to mind, and of course Emmanuel and Bettina, with whom I stayed friends for many years afterwards.
Le Bistrot: 116 avenue René Coty
It was Emmanuel and Bettina who first invited Graeme and me to Le Bistrot (Photo 2) one Saturday morning at 11. When we walked in, nearly everyone was smoking and enjoying endless cups of espresso - and not a single person was drinking alcohol! This soon became another Saturday ritual to look forward to, and their group of friends was always welcoming and great fun.
I have to admit that coming straight from the student pub culture of Galway to sipping espressos in a French café at 11am took some getting used to, but I was happy to put up with the dense cigarette smoke to finally get to know some French students.
I was really looking forward to revisiting Le Bistrot, but unfortunately it was closed during our stay. A sign on the window, and a quick Google search, explained why: the café, now a popular music venue, needs major renovation work to meet modern health and safety standards, and the owners can't afford it. Regulars and music fans have launched an online fundraising campaign to save it, and it even featured in a France 3 news report on 14 September.
Old Friends
While searching for a home exchange for this trip, I bizarrely came across a name and a village that I recognised. When I clicked on the owner's photo, I could see that it was indeed Rémi, an English teacher from Collège Irène Joliot-Curie (Photo 6) - and the first teacher to invite me round for a meal, at his home in Fontaine-la-Mallet. So, of course I had to get in touch, even though we were already in discussions with another home exchanger by then.
Rémi and his lovely wife Marie-Dominique invited us to their beautiful home on the Sunday of our stay. The photos below are from HomeExchange, as we were so busy chatting that I forgot to take any during our visit!
The three hours we spent with them flew by - it was such an enjoyable afternoon, catching up on nearly 40 years. Before we left, Marie-Dominique was keen to talk about a possible reciprocal home exchange in 2028. We decided to stay in touch.
While we were there, I asked Rémi whether he was still in contact with any of the other English teachers, and I mentioned a few names that came back to me, such as Anne, Jean-Jacques and Martine. He and Marie-Dominique knew that Martine still lived in Le Havre, and Marie-Dominique promptly emailed a mutual friend there and then to pass on my contact details. Two days later, Martine got in touch and we arranged to meet for a drink the following afternoon. She told me that her son Antoine was keen to come along too.
I should explain that I spent six months giving English lessons to Antoine when he was three! These "lessons" simply involved me calling round to their apartment once a week and playing Duplo and Playmobil with him for an hour. In return, Martine usually invited me to stay for a sumptuous lunch - I think it was there that I rapidly developed a taste for French food!
We agreed to meet up near Le Volcan, and it was surreal to meet Antoine, now 42, in the flesh. Martine had even brought photos of the two of us playing with his bricks, and another of his fourth birthday party, where Antoine remembers me hitting my head on the chandelier - well, I am 1m 95 tall after all!
I asked Antoine what he did for a living and - surprise, surprise - he has a degree in English and Spanish and works full-time as an English translator! Those early English lessons clearly paid off!
Walking around my six addresses, I found that some buildings have been smartened up, some have seen better days, and the future of one of my favourite haunts is not guaranteed. But the biggest surprise of the week wasn't the buildings - it was discovering that, after nearly 40 years, some of the people who made Le Havre feel like home were still here, and still just as welcoming.
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