Do you have a wife?

Just one week until I jet off to sunny (haw haw) England. 

It's been almost exactly four weeks since I've been here, but now brain is starting to say STOP.

This week, the students seem to have been more daring in their questions for me. The first week was full of "how old are you?" "where do you live?" etc etc. There's only so many times you can say "I am 20 years old. I live in Cambridge" and not feel like a listening exam. But this week, see below for a list of more interesting and amusing questions;

- Do you have any children?
At which I just burst out laughing, and replied with "Good god, no, I'd be a terrible mother".

- Do you smoke?
When I responded no, the student said "that's very good, smoking is bad for you". Thanks for the lesson, chump. Later on, when I said that I like Bob Marley, he then said "But you HAVE to smoke when you listen to Bob Marley". Which reminds me. The weed culture here is genuinely insane. Every morning as I skip my merry way to school, bright eyed and bushy tailed for the day that lies ahead (well, actually it's more like, 'Every morning as I drag my sorry self to school in the dark, slightly resenting the day ahead because half past 7 is such an ungodly hour to be walking to work'), I arrive at the school gates to be embraced by the smell of weed. Turning a blind eye, I teach my lessons as usual, and the fact that half the students are stoned doesn't really concern me. Except today, when one student asked me "can you tell us something that has happened to you in your life". I responded with a witty tale of humour and then asked if he could tell me something. The best he could say was "No, I can't right now, because I'm high. This morning I was tired". How on earth does one reply to this?

- Do you have a wife?
No, French children, I do not have a wife. Nor am I married, or a lesbian. Thank you. 

Other than work, a bit of fun and generally trying as hard as I can to speak French, another major part of my life so far has been administration. I hate to say it, so I'll say it very quietly. I think I might have done everything in terms of admin. Bank account? Check. Social security number? On its way in the post. CAF? Check. Soon to be paid into my account. Insurance? Check. Erasmus stuff? Check. New SIM for my phone? Check.

The result of all of this admin is that whenever I say the word RIB, I sort of screw up my face and say it like I'm imitating myself, because I'm so sick of saying it. For those who don't know, a RIB is a Relevé d'Identité Bancaire, and you find yourself giving it to almost every company you could think of. To attach such importance to a piece of paper with your bank details on it seems slightly ludicrous to me, but there we are.

Onwards and upwards, I have a class at 3 which somehow I think will feel a little more like babysitting than teaching.

Never mind, eh.