Translation please

I sat still in my chair at the Prix Polar International ceremony in Cognac on Friday evening as they announced the winner. All I heard was 'Jeffrey Archer', but still didn't get it - partly because my French is so appalling. It wasn't until my French publisher, who has the unlikely name of Anne-France, prodded me in the ribs and said, "You've won," that I got up and walked over to receive my first literary award - for best international thriller with A Prisoner of Birth. The rest of the evening went by in a bit of a haze, surrounded by bearded French men wearing sweaters and smoking Gauloises, chattering at me in their native tongue. I simply smiled and nodded occasionally, before being allowed to escape back to my hotel room around two in the morning. The following day I did a signing session in the town hall, but was unable to join the Mayor of Cognac for lunch as I had to get a flight back to London to do the auction for SeeAbility at the RAC. Although I nearly fell asleep during dinner, adrenalin kept me going just enough to raise £25,400 for this very deserving charity. When I eventually did get to bed, I slept until 9am the next morning, the award still by my bedside. Back to the real world.