Greetings from France

Well I am finally here.

I'm suffering from a brief attack of a disease commonly known as "writer's block". However, I need to take this chance to write a blog as I have not yet managed to connect to the internet in my little house. 

Wednesday was such a long day, I left my house at 8 o' clock and arrived in Nogent at 7 o'clock, absolutely knackered. 

Cambridge > Nogent le Rotrou in four daunting steps;

1. Cambridge > King's Cross
Fairly straight forward, train filled with self important businessmen.
2. St Pancras > Paris
Eurostar, best invention ever.

3. Paris Gare du Nord > Paris Montparnasse
Fairly easy to navigate the metro, although also slightly terrifying as little pickpockets try and take your things. More fool them though 'cause I got padlocks bitches!

4. Paris Montparnasse > Nogent le Rotrou
Pretty long train ride, spent hugging my suitcase and pondering the mental state of the woman sat opposite.

As I sat on the Eurostar, little bubbles popped in my tummy when I saw the brief outline of the Eiffel Tower. I had finally made it, after all these months of planning and wondering what my town would be like.

So Nogent itself is a typical little Northern French town, complete with men in flat caps and the nicest smelling bakeries you will ever encounter. Think of all the typical things you find in a town in Northern France, and it will be here. I've done a bit of exploring already and the town is small enough to walk around everywhere, which is great. I'm still in a bit of a culture shock, getting used to drivers on the right hand side of the road, even little things like the weird food you find here. It has all been a bit hectic, meeting the entirety of the teachers in ten minutes was frightening, but not so frightening as sitting on a chair in front of 40 French kids while they ask you questions.

Anyway, no rest for the wicked and I am off to a teachers' social in order to mingle with my future colleagues.

Bisous!

Day After Tomorrow

*Apologies that this blog has absolutely nothing to do with the end of the world, copious amounts of snow and ice, or Dennis Quaid*

Just checking in, because plenty has happened since I poked myself in the eye.

I got a reply from the woman who is giving me accommodation in France and the exciting news is, I have my own gaffe! A small house next to one of the English teachers at the school, with an upstairs and a downstairs (fancy, eh?). So my dreams of being so stereotypically French, wandering my house with a Camus book in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other, can finally be realised!

I popped into the centre of Cambridge the other day, to get a few bits and bobs (onto that later), and to say goodbye once again to a city that has been home for 20 years. And boy, did Cambridge give the farewell I was expecting. I nearly had my foot run over by a lorry down Sidney Street (to anyone who is not native to Cambridge; ridiculous one-way street where it is impossible to walk without getting a cycle bell in your earhole), home to Edinburgh Woollen Mill, Sainsbury's, and the largest group of rude people known to man. Following this, I had an experience with a bunch of Chinese tourists (such experiences tend to be common in Cambridge), in which they proceeded to meander slowly in front of me, without a care in the world for girls like me, who are rushing around like a headless chicken actually trying to shop. All of this with a dose of typical snobbiness from passers-by, when you make an effort to move out of their way and they look you up and down like you are a piece of dog turd on their shoe. And finally, an additional dose of snobbiness (it's basically prescribed to everyone in these parts) from shop assistants in ye olde faithful John Lewis [Never knowingly undersold, always knowingly middle class], where anyone not head to toe in brands such as Estee Lauder or DIOR have been made to feel uncomfortable since 1864 [thanks to Wikipedia for this date]. All in all, just your average, middle class day.

I know I may sound like a miserable old hag but if the truth be told, I will miss it here whilst I am in France. Cambridge does have its fair share of idiotic morons but in reality, it's where my heart lies. I will miss slow Sunday mornings in the town centre, awash with musicians who line the streets. Yes, there is definitely an atmosphere in Cambridge unlike any town.

And now back to my purchases. I decided to spare any blog readers the boredom of reading about every detail of my days in France, luckily for you, whoever you are. But I wanted to record as much as I can, since this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and all.

Below is this beautiful creature, which took me precisely 40 minutes to choose;

Ever since I was a little girl, I was always fascinated by buying stationery. I would spend hours choosing pencils, pens, scissors, felt tips. As you can imagine, this cartridge pen got my heart racing.

Anyway, enough about my sad WHSmith/Paperchase adventure.

I'm off to start packing!!

Say goodbye to accommodation woes

Logement crisis over.

I discovered today, after a week full of sweaty palms and worries about being homeless in France, that the email address I have been using to contact my supposed host is broken. I am sending virtual fireworks into the air.

So now I've emailed her using an address that actually works, often helpful if one actually intends to read one's email. It all seems strikingly real all of a sudden. It's my last 7 days in Cambridge and something tells me that I will be fine in Nogent (although yesterday I couldn't resist poking myself in the eye.. It's a wonder how I look after myself sometimes).

Just finished planning my last weekend in Cambridge with my lovely boy, scary stuff! I have no doubt that we will be absolutely fine though, and it gives him the perfect chance to write me letters (wink wink hint hint).

Anyway, there is no rest for the wicked, and I set myself the challenge of reading all the Harry Potter books this summer (okay, yes I know I'm like 10 years behind everyone else but I'll read things in my own time, thank you very much).

TO THE GOBLET OF FIRE!

9 days

9 days and in the words of The Chairmen of the Board, give me just a little more time.

Though I'm not sure more time is really what I need. No matter how long I have left until I go to France, it could be 3 days or a year, I would still never feel ready for it. Brain seems to enjoy pretending I'm not going and then the day before I go, I'm likely to suffer some sort of panic attack.

I'm physically ready (sort of, I still need to actually hear from the woman who has kindly given me a home), but mentally I don't think I'm quite there yet.

Perhaps I'll just turn up to France like this little fellow;

Replace "bear" with "poor, lost English girl".

Between now and 26th September, I still have a long way to go. Piles of photocopying, feeling 'busy and important' doing several silly little errands. I even got myself a credit card* (squeal).  

More seriously, it's that time of year again. September is amongst my least favourite months. Summer is fading and people move on, move away. And time seems to have just evaporated. I wonder where these past 2 years have gone. It seems only yesterday that I was packing all my stuff up, ready to take on Nottingham as a fresh faced first year. And God, was I young. You do a hell of a lot of growing up when university hits you like an anvil on the head.

Would I do anything differently? Perhaps. I'm still not sure that university is right for me. Or even studying languages. But now I'm here and I will see it out to the bitter end.

* Only for use in the following situations; spontaneous laptop explosions, sudden need for French pastries + no money and hostage.

13 days

For those of you who don't know, as part of my degree, I will be jetting off in 13 days to a darling little town in North West France, called Nogent-Le-Rotrou (I'm yet to master this pronunciation, without sounding like I have a minor speech impediment).

In case you are interested to know where this is in France;

So a little bit of background on the lead-up to my year abroad.

Up until a few days ago, I didn't actually have anywhere to live. With two weeks left before I go, this was causing me some slight stress, and a facial twitch, as I'm sure is understandable. To my eyes, I had but three options;

1) go to France, and live out year abroad as homeless bum.

2) find slightly suspect, probably slightly creepy French housemate and spend year feeling uncomfortable, sleeping on sofa.

3) quit university, cut hair into mullet and go on dole/Jeremy Kyle.

OBVIOUSLY never considered any of these options seriously (except possibly the third, mullets are underrated) and luckily enough, I now have a place to live, with one of the English teachers from the school.

So between now and 26th September, I have a mountain of things to sort. I need to get myself straight into office bitch mode and power through all these silly little errands.

Anyway I hope you dear readers will enjoy keeping up with my travels, with all the little hiccups I encounter on the way. Apologies for the generic background, it's only temporary until I can take some photos in France.

Without further ado, I'm now going to start compiling my packing list.

Because without one, I'll probably forget my deodorant, or as I did on my last holiday, my mobile phone. 

CLEVER LITTLE MUGGINS.