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!