J'habite dans la maison. Ma famille promenade dans la rue. Le chien est plus grand de la chat.

Forgive me if either sentence is (a) riddled with spelling errors, (b) grammatically incorrect, (c) complete garbage.

I would not be surprised if all three applied, as my French is, as they say (or maybe they don't and this is wrong too), 'tres mal'.

The reason being, I am sure, is having reached the ripe old age of 11 before having my first lesson.

As parents know, at that age, children are not only becoming less enthusiastic about learning in general, but once they enter secondary school they become far more aware of themselves and how they appear to others.

Mastering a new language, particularly in a class where you are expected to read out loud, as we did, is fraught with problems.

"Wee monsewer," my classmates at the large comprehensive where I was a pupil, would say.

There were the odd ones who would try their best to pronounce the words as a native-speaker.

"Oui, monsieur," they would chirp, surrounded by back-handed whispers of "Swot" and "Creep", emanating from less conscientious quarters.

Strangely enough, striving to do well was never an issue in other lessons, but in French, to speak and actually sound like you were born south of the Channel was a no no.

The class, with its sexy French woman aren't they all? drafted in for French conversation, was seen as a bit of a joke.

So, like 90 per cent of pupils, I plodded along and ultimately failed the exam.

I hope the same won't be said of my daughters' attempts to learn French or any other foreign language.

And the way things are going, it won't.

The Government plans to make language lessons available to all pupils aged between seven and 11 by the end of the decade.

A pilot scheme in 1,400 schools was hailed a success by inspectors and is being extended to all primary schools.

Excellent. Or should I says "Excellent!" (It's the same in French, isn't it?) It was not until I went to France with a friend at the age of 19 that I realised how wonderful it must be to be bilingual.

And how I had totally wasted my chance to learn a foreign language.

It was agony not being able to understand the many friendly people we met.

And the language sounded so wonderful, particularly when fresh from the mouths of extremely attractive Frenchmen (again, aren't they all?).

How I wished I had the ability to impress them with flawless French.

Instead I went around uttering sentences that probably translated as: 'That is very pretty," "I like to eat." "I have a cat at my house." And "Do you have a horse?" Not the best chat-up lines ever to hit Parisian nightclubs.

My daughters are relatively lucky. One of the teachers at their primary school is a native French speaker.

And she introduces the beautiful language of her homeland into every lesson.

As for me. I fancy going back to school to have another go.

And this time I'll come out sounding like although, sadly, not resembling Juliette Binoche.