ça fait longtemps

So, it's been a while since I've written a blog, but I promise that there is a real reason for this (not just being ridiculously lazy). Long and short of it is that I basically haven't had a laptop until now. But now it's here and SO SHINY AND NEW!

I guess the good news is, is that I'm a hundred per cent less mardy than my last blog post, which hopefully should make it a more enjoyable read.

So last weekend I whizzed to Paris to see Sabrina, one of my housemates from last year. On the Friday night, we started off with a lovely dinner of baguette and cheese. Parfait. I must admit I was a bit overwhelmed by Paris. I felt like a lost little country girl in a big looming grey city. Everybody seemed to have a purpose; somewhere to go, someone to see. Reminding me that I definitely wasn't in Nogent any more.

That night we popped to "Danger Bar", so affectionately named because unlike almost any bar in Paris, they offer a pint for 3 euros (which free garlic chips, which unfortunately I think we were a bit too late for, sob).

The next day Sabrina kindly brought me some KFC and I indulged in that sweet chicken-y goodness that I have now been craving for some time.

Following that, we took a stroll around Paris, as I snapped happily away on my camera. Then we visited the Centre Pompidou, which I'd never been to before. I really enjoyed it (photos to come when I work out how to software works on my computer. Damn yoou Windows 8!). 

Then I went back to chez moi, exhausted but filled with the glow that you get when you visit a beautiful city like Paris.

This week has been pretty tough, although surprisingly quick. Had a few more no-shows this week, but have resolved not to take it personally and feel smug instead, that I've already done my college education and they have to suffer through theirs, haha.. ha. ha. haa. 

Last night I had my first raclette round Rosslyn's, with her son, Ara and another woman who works at the school, Melinda. For those of you who don't know (which I didn't), a raclette is essentially a hotplate, on which you place cute little shovels with cheese and meat. The cheese melts, the meat cooks through and you eat it with buttery potatoes. My fave. (Which brings me to a little side note, I miss jacket potatoes an alarming amount).

Anyway, I am off to play with my new toy, hopefully this will make blog updates more regular!

Bisous!

Crabby

Well there's no point beating around the bush, today has been a pretty shit day.

Started off this morning with a casual spot of paranormal activity, my kettle fell off the side for no apparent reason.

Things then actually picked up a little when I had my 8 o'clock class, I was confident, the kids were chatty. All good on that front. And then 9 o'clock came. And so did just 1 student, out of 15. BRILLIANT! I'm so happy that the French teenager has shown so much interest in learning to speak more English. Great job on your enthusiasm, France.

Things got worse. I spoke to the mother of the children I am doing conversation classes for the other day (the ones who are like 6 years old) and essentially told her I can't do these classes anymore because I have no resources with which to teach them. She responded saying "Okay, I'll speak to the other parents and we will sort something out". I wanted the feedback on that and so today, went into her office to speak to her. It's generally known that she's a bit of a bitch but when I entered her office today, all she could say was "I don't have time to speak to you right now". I smiled shyly and backed away, fearful that she would breathe fire at me. I then made my merry way to the canteen to eat with my fellow colleagues and she was sat there, chatting and laughing with her friends, clearly very very preoccupied with what appeared to be stuffing her face. What a friendly dragon.

Next up, the least tactile insult I have ever received. Whilst happily minding my own business during lunchtime, a conversation began about a colleague's hair. She happens to have very long hair and said that she thinks it's "sensual" to have long hair. Fine, so far. She then went on to say she thinks short hair is ugly and is a thing for men. When someone pointed at me as if you say "you stupid bitch, there's a girl next door with short hair" she continued to push the knife in deeper by saying she doesn't think it's sexy at all. Way to play up to your audience, France.

To top it all off I just got back from shopping to find that my washing up liquid spilled in my bag, covering everything with what I can only describe as "lemon slime". Great job on your packaging, France.

Hopefully things will pick up later where I'm off to dine in a Nogent restaurant.

Apologies for a massive case of The Grumps today. We all have days like this.

Safe.

When I was young things didn't last. My only care stemmed to the price of sweets, now I am older I can laugh.

I'm sat at my flat pack, deep mahogany desk (took me a full two hours to assemble, why is it so difficult?), surrounded by paperwork, scrummy chocolate and a cup of tea. Oh, and enough stationery to provide the entirety of France with a pen each. It's lesson preparation time, and therefore, blog time. 

I'm getting back into the swing of French life, having been here a day and a half now, but my feet are already itching to travel. I'm thinking Strasbourg for a pre-Christmas mini-break. Something tells me I'd regret it if I didn't make the most of this year to see as much of France, and indeed Europe, as I can. 

Strangely, perched at aforementioned desk, I am sort of missing university life. Settling down at the weekend to do some reading or write an essay at the last minute. It's weird, and come fourth year, I know I'll be taking that comment back straight away, but it's a routine and something I know how to do. Lesson planning on the other hand, has proved more of a nightmare than I thought. One of my tasks is to prepare a presentation on British heroes. This would be easier if I actually had any heroes. Which led me to think that we as English folk don't really have much of a grip on the notion of a hero, unlike the French, who harp on about them all the time. I've gone down the "David Attenborough is a legend. So is Stephen Fry" route. 

Other than that, I have to prepare a bit on Great Expectations, a book I accidentally volunteered to talk about because I'm helping out with a literature class and it was one of the only books I've actually studied or read. Which makes me think about how incredibly uncultured/ignorant I must be, that French kids know more about English literature than I do. It's been a while since I read about ol' Pip and his endeavours to become a gentleman. Good to see you again, Dickens.

Otherwise, my days have been filled with watching "Dorset Ghost Investigators", a series of 45 minute long Youtube clips by a couple of guys from Dorset, who travel their area and the country searching for proof of ghosts. The premise is that they turn up to places that are rumoured to be haunted, and try out a bunch of techniques to detect ghosts, such as equipment which tests changes in temperature, motion sensors etc and a camcorder and Bob's your uncle. I don't recommend it, as such, but I do find it interesting and boy, is it addictive. I love the way it's so home video, gives it a great sense of authenticity.

Yesterday evening, I popped to a bar with a few colleagues which was nice, but you know, nothing beats a good English pub. I am fortunate enough to live in a village which almost has more pubs than inhabitants (slight exaggeration, if you'll forgive me). The pub is an atmosphere which you can't quite get with a bar. It was a good evening, nonetheless but it definitely lacked a certain je ne sais quoi, which ironically is something British. MIND EXPLOSION.

Anyway, I'm definitely going to stop dilly-dallying and actually get back to my lesson planning. Yes, SIR!

Laters potatoes
(Which reminds me, what does one have to do to get a decent sized potato, suitable for the exquisite jacket potato round here?).

Charles de Grewl

It's been a while since I've blogged, mainly because the start of the holidays arrived and all I wanted to do was sleep and untie myself from any responsibility whatsoever, but also because the creative part of my brain decided to shrivel up like a prune. But I'm back now so what the hell.

Anyway, we're halfway through the second week of the Toussaint holidays, and as you may have guessed from the title, I'm sat in Charles de Gaulle airport waiting for my next train back to Nogent.


The last week at the lycée before the holidays was pretty tiring and it was clear that the kids wanted nothing more than the end of the week. They were restless and tried their hardest to test my patience. Suffice to say that when the end of the week came, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
It's not just the students who enjoy the holidays you know...

The first few days of the holiday were spent wishing I'd left earlier for England. Why is it that when you want something so much, the hours seem to dribble by even slower?



Anyhow, the day arrived when I had to leave so I packed my things and made my merry way to the station, a handy two minute walk from chez moi.

Ten hours and several journeys with numerous patronizing air hostesses and screaming children later, I arrived in Cambridge.


I realise that some may question my decision to go home so early and don't get me wrong, I'm loving my experience in France, but in my heart I'm an English girl through and through.


Not only was it nice to get back to Angleterre (Rule Britannia), it was great to see my boyfriend, Damien. The distance is tough, especially knowing I moaned and totally took the measly two hours it takes from Nottingham for granted. Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you got 'til it's gone?


All in all my week was lovely. It was laced with its ups and downs, which seems to be the theme of this year. My darling boy spoiled me rotten with dinners and a few cheeky presents here and there. And of course there was bonfire night, which I utterly adore and I daresay was a big part of the reason I wanted to come home. There's something magical about wrapping up in all your finest chunky knitwear and huddling up to loved ones with a big old firework display overhead. Call me soppy, I don't care.

Hopefully all my money will start rolling in soon and when that day comes, I'm going to start planning my trips around France.

Now I've officially been up for 12 hours so apologies for a somewhat lackluster post but I must now retire to my bed.