One More With Feeling

It feels truly bizarre to be saying this but the time has officially come to leave France.

I couldn't honestly begin to describe how quickly the last week has gone. On Monday, the English teachers organised a dinner at a creperie where they produced some lovely presents and paid for my delicious portion of a tartiflette crepe. My two favourite things mixed together, parfait.

On Tuesday, after work, maman et papa arrived from lovely Angleterre and I met them in the centre of town for a bite to eat. This was where my week got more exciting. On reversing out of our car space, ladies and gentlemen, the Wilkinson family (most of) had a small car crash. Just a clash of bumpers but nonetheless making a huge dent on my father's pride and joy and leaving us all just a little bitter.

Anyway, later that evening, we popped into BHV, my favourite bar/eatery in the centre of town for our long awaited dinner which did not fail to disappoint.

On Wednesday, I arrived at the college to be met with a slightly unusual sight. It was dressing up day, on the theme of a historical event or fact. All those who dressed up were parading on the playground. A group of boys were wearing nothing but a pair of hessian sack pants, had painted themselves black and were chained together with huge metal chains to demonstrate slavery. They even had a slave master with a top hat and a whip. Impressive. Others were dressed up as the revolution, there were even some who were the student protests, complete with the gendarmerie running in with a whistle and starting fights with the protesters.

That evening, we were invited to a family whose children I tutor and who have taken me under their wing during my time in Nogent. It was a great evening, a mixture of French and English conversation and a nice assortment of food. Ideal.

Thursday came around, my last day at work. It was an anti climax, as most things are that have been built up for so long. The day finished and I said goodbye to a few people and walked out the gates a free woman.

I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend, and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.

Thursday evening, Rosslyn held a little evening for me as well, with some "champagne soup"; champagne, cointreau, sugar syrup and 'the juice of a lemon'. Delicious but somewhat lethal. As a parting/21st present, Rosslyn bought me a coffee machine, something I have always wanted. Roll on dinner parties with 'posh coffee' and a little chocolate on the side. How chic.

Yesterday we did what had to be done and made our way to Disneyland for an absolutely awesome day. I maintain the fact that you really don't need children as an excuse to get yourself down there. A good 9 hours at Disneyland was truly the best way to celebrate my last day in France and my upcoming birthday. When we got back at about 11, I tottered down to Vista Verde (where else?) and saw my birthday in in style, with a tasty cocktail and Ara.

What has struck me this week is the kindness that everybody has shown me. It's truly humbling and something which I will never forget.

Thank you France, for teaching me so much about your country, your people and my own country. Now I can officially say that I have lived in a country which completely closes down on a Sunday, thinks nothing of making you wait as long as you like for the smallest thing and which can officially make you the size of a whale with all its delicacies. Never again shall I eat a camembert that is not at the correct temperature, or say a goodbye without hunting for the English equivalent of "bonne continuation" (definitely the best thing to say when you're doing a massive goodbye and need something quick to say). I will always remember several evenings of crepes and cider, and those awkward moments when two people who just pretend to kiss on the cheek "kiss on the cheek" (it's just two people saying MWAH into the air and bashing cheeks).

I will return some day, to indulge in the quiet bliss of a French cafe, with an apricot topped pastry and a rich coffee. I'd say France has changed me in many ways. It's been a complete mix of the good and some bad (mostly good). I've met so many interesting people and had the opportunity to use my French (even in situations which I could never have imagined). It's been tough in a small town like Nogent but in true cliche style, I really think that being somewhere like this, especially when you live alone, can only serve to make you stronger.

So here it is, goodbye for now France. Goodbye and thank you to the people who made my stay a memorable one.

Penultimate

Well it feels truly bizarre to be saying this, but I now only have a week left in France, which means that this is also my penultimate blog post!

This week has been really busy and seems to have flown by like the others. On Tuesday, I had my last tutoring session with a family I've been working for since the start of term. That was a little strange but pretty handy really since my ideas were running extremely thin. On Wednesday evening, all the families I tutor for held a little evening for me which was really sweet and extremely humbling. I was plied with champagne and delicious food, and the families even gave me a card with messages from the children and a little present. How adorable.

On Thursday, I went to tutor and have dinner with a lovely family that I've recently started tutoring. At the end of the meal, their 4 year old son came into the room, beaming and yelling "bon anniversaire" (there now only rests one week until I'm 21), before giving me a present and a hug. I was touched that they'd remembered it would be my birthday and had even got me a present at all. (It was a really beautiful scarf by the way, for any ponderers). 

It's been very moving to receive gratification for the work I've been doing over the year and to see how valuable the parents have found my tutoring sessions.

Yesterday, I got on the train to Chartres for the last time for a good old knees up with the assistants over there. An evening of really great company, complete with galettes, vodka and games, as any good evening should be. Today, feeling somewhat jaded, and having got to bed at half 6 this morning, it was only right that the day be spent eating junk food and playing some new games that I've learnt. A shout out to all the assistants at Chartres, thank you for your warm hospitality and it was lovely getting to know you all. I wish all of you the best wishes for your next venture.

This evening, it's time for a night tucked up in bed with a bit of Family Guy and then tomorrow will consist of sorting out all my stuff, ready in time for packing to go home. Parfait.

Eggs

A whole week having passed since I wrote on my blog, I felt it my duty to scribble a few more things down.

Over the past week, I've been breaking the delicate news to my students that in two weeks, I will no longer be in France and will in fact be returning to Grande Bretagne for the indefinite future. The reactions were mixed. Some let out screams of despair, never knowing how life could continue after I have left Nogent. Mostly, they just looked at me blankly and said an emotional "ok". Cheers kids.

Beyond this, I have been doing practice oral exams with some of the Terminale class, including one really disastrous experience on Thursday. I knew it was going downhill when she mentioned Justin Bieber in the context of heroes. I mean, really?

And there's the tri-weekly tutoring of course. On Thursdays, after my lesson, I stay for dinner with a nice family in the next village over. This week was one of the children's birthdays, and as a result, I was treated to a lovely piece of tarte tatin, delish. 

That evening, I trotted off to Vista Verde for a typical evening, full of green cocktails and some more unsavoury characters. Nice.

Saturday night came round quickly and Rosslyn took me to La Ferte-Bernard for a few drinks in a pub style bar which was good. Easter Sunday was spent mainly in bed, but also concluded in the evening by getting drunk, eating quiche and watching Harry Potter with Rosslyn. An enviable Easter Sunday in my humble opinion.

Today, to finish off my four day weekend, the sun made an appearance so I went for a walk just outside Chartres and am now settling down to a film night, under my duvet.

Predominantly, though, I am just looking forward to finally getting back to England. I'm not sure if any other readers will appreciate this, but listening to a foreign language all the time is really tiring. And damn, France is challenging. Where's a shop that opens late in the evening, when you have a sudden craving for Cadbury's? Come to think of it, where's the Cadbury's? Why can't France run and catch up with the 21st Century, instead of insisting on archaic methods of bureaucracy? Why must the French seem to similar to us socially, and yet be so different?

Anyway, only a fortnight remains and I shall be back in the land that I know best. Back to my comfort zone and then, 10 days afterwards, straight back out again. 

I cannot wait to get inter railing.

springspringspring

I'm so happy to say that whilst writing this, there's a gorgeous hazy sunshine outside in Nogent today. It seems spring finally has sprung here.

I had a predominantly lazy weekend. On Friday, I did venture out to the shops in a caveman style hunt for food and upon my return, felt as though I'd run a marathon. On Saturday, I set out on my mission for a walk into the middle of nowhere, mostly because I wanted to get a bit lost and find some hidden beauty at least somewhere in the vicinity of Nogent.

I'm afraid to say that this is not a successful story. I walked along a small road for roughly an hour, only to be greeted with a row of houses with vicious little dogs guarding the gates, a derelict scrap yard and an empty caravan site. Feeling very much like I was part of a gritty horror movie//the apocalypse, and with the impending potential doom of an unusual breed of humans leaping out from the woods, I made my way back to my little house, feeling downtrodden that I hadn't stumbled across some peaceful lake or woodland.

Sunday was a pyjama and film day for me, with the odd spattering of sketching and just a splash of classical music. Lazy but blissful.

Feeling much better now, even though my grasp of the French language seems to be less than brilliant at the moment. I'll blame it on the cold. 

Would anybody like to make me a roast dinner and some hot cross buns? I'm rather craving them as of late.

I'm also on the search for something to do this weekend, a four day affair. Tempted by Tours, Rennes, Brussells and even Budapest and then remembered I'm actually not a millionaire, unfortunately. Definitely will be on the search for a spa of some kind though.

That's about it for today I'm 'fraid. I'll update you when I have something slightly more interesting to say.

Bordeaux and washing up

Friday night and I'm sat in on my own, having done the housework and helped myself to a somewhat generous glass of Bordeaux. Not what one generally envisages of a 20 year old's Friday night but I've found that I enjoy these evenings on my own, time to reflect and enjoy a few French luxuries.

Last weekend was good. On Saturday, we toddled off to a "pub" in Senonches called the Fox and Frog. Bless the French and their attempts at a pub. It's basically a glorified bar with lots of wooden beams. Not a whiff of bar snacks, or jukeboxes, or fruit machines, or in fact anything that slightly resembles a British pub, except a copious amount of alcohol and the odd suspect character. Overall though, a very merry night.

This week has, again, gone extremely quickly. I've been very busy with my lessons and tutoring. Unfortunately though, a vicious breed of French virus struck me halfway through the week and so on Thursday, I took the day off to feel sorry for myself and have a menthol party.

Today I have been mostly unproductive. I'm very content to sit on my own and make my way through endless hours of British TV and classic films. I did receive the most excellent news today, that I will no longer have to teach the worst class in French history ever again. I actually squealed with delight.

With just 3 weeks left before I leave la belle France, it's time to start planning my goodbye parties and lists of things to do before I leave. I realise I've actually accomplished many of them already which is really something to be proud of.

Anyway, apologies for my slightly lackluster post which definitely represents its writer at this point in time.

La neige

Just one question, where has this week gone please?

Time seems to be running by on its little legs at a frightening speed, which is actually quite bizarre conisdering how little I have done in terms of work. Even my co-workers have begun to remark upon how little work I do. Mainly, this is because of the one thing I have started to dread hearing about, la neige. Yes, this week has been a rather snow filled semaine with drifts coming in on a few occasions so far. As a result, all the school transport was cancelled and instead of acknowledging that there would be an average of maybe 3 pupils at most in each lesson and thence closing the college, us teachers were forced to come in as normal in a typically proud-to-be-French-and-make-everyone-keep-working-even-though-this-is-a-huge-waste-of-time fashion.

Snow besides, I've had a few tutoring sessions which I'm really feeling at ease with now, rather typically since I'm leaving so soon. Yesterday, I did a lesson on agony aunts. One of the problems was a girl in a long distance relationship who really loved her boyfriend but missed spending time with him. When I asked the kids what they thought she should do, they immediately (and in a somewhat brutal fashion) said she should break up with him. Oh, the sweet naivety of youth.

I've been tying up some loose ends, both in terms of my year abroad and in terms of life in general really. I'm proud to announce that in roughly 6 weeks time, I'm off inter-railing around Eastern Europe. A trip of a lifetime with 6 countries to discover and just over 3 weeks to discover them in . Route planned and first flight booked, all that's left is to start thinking about how I, potentially the least practical packer ever, am going to squeeze 3 weeks worth of stuff into a backpack that weighs at least slightly less than a baby elephant.

Exciting news over and done with, I think I'm going to sit in bed and eat Prince biscuits (glorified BNs).

See you in 4 weeks England!

Dear diary

I'm on a mission to try and document as much Nogentaise life as possible before I leave. Somewhat difficult with a slight writer's block this morning.

So my weekend has been quite jam-packed. On Friday, I took myself off to the pool. After so long without dipping my toes into a pool I'd forgotten what it feels like to swim. Therapeutic would be a good word to use. That evening, after I had been tutoring, we trotted off to Vista Verde for another "interesting" soirée, full of the usual unlikely types that one often finds in said bar, including one Polish guy who liked boxing and insisted on thumping me on the arm every time he made a (seriously unfunny) joke, fab.

Yesterday was the journée gastronomique in Nogent, essentially a farmers market. I bought some of my most favourite cheese ever, Morbier. It has a soft, slightly elastic-y texture with a line of ash through the middle which gives it a wonderful smokey flavour. If ever you find this marvelous dairy product, do yourself a huge favour and buy some. It's magnificent.

In the evening, I whizzed off to the local Chinese restaurant with a group from "on va sortir", a website where people suggest events and you just tag along to whatever you like. There were 28 of us and whilst we had all pre-ordered from a set menu of about 4 dishes, the staff still insisted on bringing everyone's meals out one at a time. After waiting for two and a half hours and playing "50 things you can do with chopsticks", it's fair to say that by the time my meal arrived, I had become slightly delirious and lost the will to live. It's at occasions like that when you learn to appreciate the logic of England and find yourself questioning the sanity of the French. Afterwards, we popped back to Vista Verde for an evening of different sorts with some enjoyable company.

Onto today, I have resigned myself to doing nothing but catching up on Channel 4 programs, because nothing can beat the blissful feeling you get from resting your brain with such mind-numbing television.

Times Like These

Hello world. I realise it's been a long time since I sat down to do this, partly because I was back in England for the past three weeks. I'm sure (at least I hope) you'll be glad to know that I am okay.

I've done so many drafts and so much thinking for this blog that it will probably never turn out how I want it to. So much time has passed and so much has happened, that there's a risk that it will all just come spilling out from my keyboard. I will try my hardest to write some well chosen words.

I feel that I'd be cheating myself if I didn't start with the most recent important occurrence.

I know what it is to have your heart broken, but I also know what it is to truly love, and to be truly loved.

There's one word which, ironically, I can use with certainty: confusion. Let's say it's an epic battle between brain and heart. As a hopeless romantic (and dedicated watcher of Disney films), I have always been led to believe that you should always follow your heart. At the moment they seem to take it in turns to win.

There's no amount of words, however powerful or well chosen, that could do justice to the last two and a half years, so I'll just say this. 
The good times truly were the best times.

As with any relationship that doesn't end in a screaming row with each party throwing crockery at each other, there's just an over-riding feeling of emptiness.

We each seek comfort differently. For me, comedy and music. Not Adele, or all that cliche break up music that just sends you spiraling into a state. Strangely, I seek a lot of comfort in Demons by Fatboy Slim. Simple and the tempo gives you time to breathe. That and Fleetwood Mac - my old friends.

If there's one thing I've learnt, and there's plenty (oh, why can't I go back in time?), it's how much focus and determination I have. It's time to channel that in a different way and focus on myself for a while. Some of you will know that I have some big plans in store, but I don't feel that it's fair to share them on here just now.

I will, however, share some of the smaller goals I have;

- Get fit, and get FIT.

- Pick up my guitar again

- Swim like a fish

- Throw myself into opportunities at university whilst I can

   (a goal I had set myself previously)

- Always assume the best, instead of expecting the worst.

It all comes down to a simple fact. I am a social butterfly, and I've been in a bell jar for far too long.

I think that recapping the events of the past few weeks is a hopeless task, so I think it's time to leave this here. I just wanted to thank all of my friends for their kind words, and Damien for two and a half years of unconditional love.

You lost a diamond while you were busy collecting stones.

Rain, rain go away

Good afternoon dear blog readers,

On my way home from work, the heavens opened and I got absolutely drenched. Nice one, France!

So since my negative post this time last week, I'm aiming for a positive one this time.

Last weekend, I popped to Chartres to see the other lovely assistants there. On the Saturday, we had a little mooch around the town and climbed the cathedral tower which was cool. Then for lunch, we stepped into a crêperie called La Picoterie. Unusually, although not for France, they sat us down, lured us into a false sense of security and then warned us firmly that the kitchens would close if we didn't order immediately. In a panic, I quickly ordered a salad, which actually turned out to be an excellent choice.

Then, as evening dawned, we assistants got together for my first "Pot Luck" (which is basically a picky tea where everyone brings some food to share). Later on, we hit up "L'Exotique" for a nice boozy end to the evening.

The day after, suffice to say we were all feeling less than spritely, so settled into a day of lazing around and playing cards. Big thanks to Alli, Christina and Michael for being such kind hosts.

This week has had its fair share of ups and downs. The new timetable seems to be proving a little too complicated for all those involved, resulting in absentees and confused teachers all over the show. On Monday, I was invited to a family's house to proof-read a business plan in English and then for dinner. My worst nightmare occurred and I was presented with fish. Saying this, it was actually a very delicious piece of fish and I felt very satisfied when I gobbled it all up. At the end of the evening, I was given a bit of money too for my troubles which I didn't expect and really appreciated. They proposed that I go every week for dinner and conversation classes, another one in the bag!

Yesterday, I was invited to an evening of bowling followed by drinks and galettes/crêpes with all the young teachers. It was really good to finally spend time with my colleagues and it was rather a lot of fun.

So now, I have to think of my speech for tomorrow evening, when I will tell the families from hell that I don't want to deal with their snot faced little kids any more.
Wish me luck!

Grievances

So I've had a pretty shocking week and an even worse evening. My timetables changed this week and apparently this is too much to handle for the poor Frenchies. On Tuesday, I was asked to come in at 8 in the morning (even though my next lesson was at 1) to do some mock oral exams (no one laugh at oral, IT'S NOT FUNNY) with three kids who had not shown up to their original times. One kid turns up. Waking up at 6:30 in the morning for a 15 minute lesson, well worth it. Stella start to the day. 

Then at 1 o'clock, off I trot to a literature lesson I usually quite enjoy. Turned up at room 207, not a person in sight. I waited there, making up excuses in my head [had they all been held up by a mysterious fire breathing dragon in the corridor, or perhaps all been taken hostage by a gang of men in balaclavas in another classroom?]. Investigating mode on, I ventured to the school reception and asked if there had been a change of classroom. Typical French response: Well, not that I know about, but I don't deal with classroom changes, that's the classroom changing woman's job (I mean, seriously. Is that a WHOLE job?). I wait outside her room for 10 minutes, finally admit defeat and go to each room on the English department. Still no sign.

I resign to another 4 hours in the staff room (yes, 4 hours), where the literature teacher approaches me, laughing, [yes, LAUGHING] and says they had a change of room. Thank you, man on reception. Plucking up enthusiasm for my next lesson at 5 o'clock, I ask the teacher of this class if she had told her students "oh yes, they will come to you one at a time". Brilliant. Finally get some teaching done after staying at the college for 6 hours already. 5 o'clock came, 5 thirty came. Alas, no students. 10 hours, for 15 minutes of lesson. Fantastic.

All throughout this week, there has been a distinct lack of communication between teachers and students, resulting in a complete waste of my time. 

And then, this evening. Had my tutoring lesson with the kids from hell, but this time, with a difference. I had a spy. One of the mothers (whose child is seriously weird by the way) tried very hard to "discreetly" sit in on my lesson. At the end, when the other parents came, she then decided to review my lesson with the other parents just behind my chair, basically saying my lesson was shit and the kids don't give a shit either (how much can you do with children from the ages of 4 to 8, when all they want to do is colour things in and play hide and seek?). I think perhaps she got me confused for a deaf person because I actually heard everything. Following this, she then made no effort to politely try and get me to leave my getting everyone to say goodbye to me and opening the door so I could leave and they could have a good old bitch. Perfect.

Following this, I thought FOOD! Broccoli and cheese pasta bake, to be precise. All I can say is White Sauce: 1, Becky: 0. I then proceeded to spill a ton of oil on my floor. Hey, why go to an ice rink? Why not just risk your life and neck in my kitchen instead?

As a result of this disastrous week, I really feel in the mood to list some of my grievances with some French people.

Grievance number 1
Okay, you do not see me writing "fwah grah" instead of foie gras or fondoo instead of fondue. In case you had not worked it out yet, IT'S ROAST BEEF, NOT ROSBEEF.

Grievance number 2I understand that EVERYONE is busy in France, but is it really necessary to make me wait 10 minutes for a loaf of bread while you bitch to your friend? Customer always comes first France, when will you learn!?

Grievance number 3So, it's a common stereotype that French people are rude. If you must insist on acting so indignantly whenever this is mentioned, then do try and steer away from said stereotype. If you bump into someone, it's polite to say "sorry", if someone tells you to be quiet, it's usually polite to be quiet.

Grievance number 4
Oh the French, why must you insist on being so damn right blunt about everything. Can't you just adopt the English bumbling ways and pretend that you're at least trying to save people's feelings.

Grievance number 5
Please stop staring at me, and tell your child not to as well. I am not a martian and if I have a bogey on my face, it'd be kinder just to tell me.

Grievance number 6
Okay, what is actually with the administration here. It takes 3-4 months to get anything done. Things are passed from person to person, you have never given in the right combination of documents, you have to wait half an hour to actually see anybody. It's okay though, it's not like I wanted that extra 200 euros a month...

Grievance number 7
Without wishing to run the risk of sounding like an OAP, damn the kids here are so disrespectful. Hey, kids! When someone talks, shut mouth, open ears.

Grievance number 8
Dear France, if you really think that saying "bonjour" to someone in the street, or leering at them in a bar, in the hope that they're going to fall head over heels in love with you, makes you the most romantic nation, you are wrong. Sincerely, Irate English Girl.

Grievance number 9
Why won't you let your children be children? Why must they all do so many extra-curricular activities that by the weekend, they can't even enjoy their free time?

Grievance number 10
Stop closing your shops at lunchtime. It is PEAK TIME for people to buy things.

And with that nicely round number 10 (although my grievances are definitely more numerous), my rant is over.

Afternoon

Oh poor dear blog, how I have neglected you so. New definition of insanity: talking to a website. You need something to talk to when you live alone in a quiet French town.

So I've been back in Nogent for just over a week now. The journey back was challenging. There was an excruciatingly embarrassing episode involving Eurostar security and a belt, following which an unusual girl plonked herself down next to me and began muttering "must keep calm" to herself. Excellent! For years now, I have wondered why my face says "ALL WEIRDOS, PLEASE TALK TO ME, OR AT LEAST MAKE ME FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE BY DOING YOUR WEIRD THINGS NEAR ME". Can anyone give me an answer?

Teaching so far this term has been enlightening to say the least. I have been teaching 'stereotypes' and have been told graciously that all English people are insane, ugly and most recently, "all losers" (now what does that say about me, eh?). Pretending not to care, I returned chez moi and made a mental note of the offending children in question and then proceeded to make myself feel better anyway by a nice dose of British comedy (we may be ugly, snobs and insane but damn, do we make good comedy).

I took the blissful liberty last weekend of doing absolutely nothing, bar eating, sleeping and the occasional breathing every now and then. It was nice after a hectic fortnight but I realise I do take it for granted that in Cambridge I can just pop into civilisation. Here it takes around 40 euros and a train ride. 

Yes, it seems that with every term that passes I miss Cambridge more and more, but I also miss Nottingham. I miss the buzz, I miss the youth of it and I miss the comfort zone. A massive plate of Mooch nachos, a British ale in hand or cocktails in a Nottingham bar really wouldn't go amiss. I know there are plenty more lessons I've learnt and lots of opportunities I've had, but the main thing I've actually learnt is how to appreciate where I live more.

INSPIRATIONAL MOMENT OVER. I'm off to watch some Jezza K on itvplayer.

Catch ya later folks.

Hello stranger

Snuggled up in my duvet and still sans bra and decent clothes, I felt compelled to write my first blog in a few weeks.

So since my last blog, I miraculously managed to make the journey home (despite the typical French attempts to strike just at the start of the holiday period. Congrats).

It's been great to be home, even just being able to earwig on people and actually understand what they're saying and make general small talk with strangers without having to pretend you've understood.

I've come to the definitive conclusion that Cambridge really is the most bizarre place to live. Since being here, I've seen a guy dressed in what was essentially a large piece of leopard print cloth, with a curtain rope tied round his waist, strolling through the shopping centre without a care in the world. Just yesterday, I saw a mother who was dressed up like a doll, carrying around a daughter complete with ashen faced expression. Yes, we Brits really are quite eccentric. What I enjoy even more is the British public's strained attempts at trying to ignore everything abnormal by looking the other way, thus adding that extra layer of awkwardness always present in our English society.

Christmas was lovely, but unfortunately brought with it the Christmas Pudding Stomach, which is frequently associated with all the delicious foods of the festive period. Yes, I braved the scales yesterday and spent the rest of the day feeling rather horrified with myself. Action stations! Meal plans made for my return to France and regrettably, my beautiful friendship with our pal Brie is over. Nice knowing you, you delicious creamy goddess. Yes, I wave a rather sorrowful farewell to all the rich creamy delights of French cuisine, to beer and to everyone's favourite, chocolate, and say a cheery hello to salads, vegetables and cottage cheese in my desperate bid to shed these pesky pounds. 

This fortnight really has been quite a reflective 14 days for me. I've realised how nice it is to have the first Christmas in a long while without revision, to have the first year of university with more than £10 to my name at any given point and to really appreciate the difference between home and away. In previous years, at this point, with just two days to go, I would be dreading the upcoming voyage to "away". Strangely though, this year, I'm really looking forward to getting back to my little French retreat.

Finally, just a few words to say how ridiculously SCARY it is that I'm already halfway through my assistantship. Where on Earth has the time gone?

Time to watch some classic festive television.

Happy New Year to everyone!