I'M STANDING in a market square in southwest France and something unbelievable is happening. My son is staring with great interest at a stall full of vegetables. He is getting up close to mounds of carrots and ropes of garlic, then pulling away. Now he is examining the faces of shoppers and passers-by - then scanning the entire scene as if it really mattered to him. Like he really wants to engage with France, and everything French. Yet he is only 13 years old.

How is this happening? How are we breaking the barriers of non-interest that so often separate a child from a holiday experience?

Felix is making a film. In fact, here in this tiny town of Bram there are quite a few of us doing just that - capturing French life on a bright autumnal morning.

Over by the donkey sausages, a digital camcorder plugged to her eye, is thirtysomething Karen. She is zooming in on the miniature Eeyore that the butcher, in a moment of Gallic show-and-tell, has set astride his prize bangers. “Eugh,” shudders Felix as he brushes past on his way to capture some croissants.

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BACKGROUND

• The cheese-lover's guide to France

• The cunning holiday guide to France in August

• The budget guide to the French Riviera

• Deauville: a classy Channel resort

• Don't pass Pas de Calais

Related Internet Links

• Peregrine's France: the Sunday Times francophile reveals all

Sixteen-year-old Barney is focusing on that enduring symbol of France, a poodle in a waistcoat, while pyramids of tomatoes are the source of fascination for 12-year-old Ollie.

Bram may be tiny but it lacks for nothing. There is a supermarket and pharmacies, restaurants and a café, canoeing and tennis, and even a hospital. Plenty of interesting stuff to film, then, and the mayor would doubtlessly give you a kiss if you did but ask. Which I don't, because I, too, am capturing this raggedy-routed market, letting my lens linger on pans of steaming and fragrant paella, and awaiting my Scorsese moment.

So that's the line-up. The indifferent French shoppers, frou-frou dogs, shuffly old men and mouthy stall holders, all reverting to type, as if gathered from central casting. And then us in pursuit - a small team of British amateur cinéastes on day two of this half-term digital movie-making course.

We are looked after by Moira Martingale, the owner of our comfortable base a short drive away. She runs all-inclusive “French Houseparty” holidays from the Domaine St Raymond - anything from creative writing courses and stitching workshops to golf and gourmet breaks.

This mixed-age movie-making course is a first for the Domaine. Cue Peter Ralley, a former headmaster, former professional photographer, and all-round good bloke. I know he is a good sort, because we all eat together, and he has told us how his movie-making workshops have inspired underprivileged kids. But even so, fetching up at “class” on our first morning, I'm feeling pretty nervous. For starters, I stand in awe of my son's gadgets-and-gizmos brain wiring. Would I be the class dunce?

“Not a problem,” Ralley says. “Anyone can make a film. You don't need to be a technical wizard.”

Well, phew for that. And Ralley has brought all the gear we need - from camcorders to laptops for editing.

The boys immediately bag the more sophisticated tackle. But no matter. Our teacher has promised that we will return home with at least four of our own films.

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