I am now the proud renter of a one room flat at the end of Rue de Ports in the city of Le Mans. BOOM. I have a bed, a table and a small toaster oven plus new levels of independence. After paying huge amounts of money to secure said flat, and signing the contract, I had but a few hours to pack for my Christmas themed return to Angleterre. Definitely NOT enough time to incorporate doing the washing up, and taking out the rubbish. . . Tasks I haven't carried out for a good few weeks. Inevitably I was rushing to leave.
My journey home was not hugely eventful as I recall. Apart from someone being hit by the tram causing it to nearly make me miss my train! Selfishness if ever I saw it! But I don't think I have ever been more ready to go home before. My flight landed early and I had to wait in Arrivals for Dadsie to come and get me, so I whipped out some nostalgic classics to add to the general excitement, including Hall and Oates's "You make my dreams come true" and Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff". . . What an uplifting soundtrack to return to!
Home was as magical as I remembered. Sisters everywhere, small dogs running around licking everything, such a massive amount of food that it was literally forcing its' way out of cupboards with a deter,ination you don't often see in inanimate objects. And, soon enough, we were all rowing like we'd never been apart. So Christmassy!
I had a little reunion with my uni friend Alice just before Christmas - we decided to meet in Covent Gardens - a place vaguely halfway between us. What a choice. There were oversized Christmas trees, a market full of novelty aprons and hugely expensive jewellery, and twinkly lights everywhere. We bought pretty things for ourselves from Sass and Belle (What. A. Shop) and had lunch in a tapas bar which included a bottle of vin rouge (comme normale) and about 8 dishes between us. It was like we had never been apart. Sigh.
Something that must be noted here, is the choice offered to those people using the public transport system in Covent Gardens. When you approach the exit of the Tube Station, there are about 6 lifts all with large queues, or there is a sign, announcing another exit via 193 steps. Unfortunately, I missed the sign for the staircase on my way out and got straight into a lift. Alice informed of the steps when we found each other, and proudly stated that she had climbed to the top (hence she was a little out of breath). This was obviously an admirable move, and a surprising amount of people seemed to be having the same idea. I noticed this more when I went to go back home later that day. I took the stairs down this time and was SHOCKED by the amount of people who had seen that sign for the 193 steps and thought, perhaps in a moment of Christmas fuelled excitement, "I know. . . I'll take the stairs!" For many, this was a huge error. Walking down these stairs was like watching the open scene of Casualty, or that bit at the end of a marathon, where people are collapsing and vomiting everywhere and crying out in pain for those shiny blankets or inhalers or something. As the staircase curled round, I could see what seemed like an endless line of people (most of whol had obviously midjudged the distance and started off a bit quick) bent double or just writhing, grasping at my ankles in desperation. Pathetic.
Decorating the tree is always a great moment for me. I actually cried a year or two ago when it was done without me. . . Awkard. . . This year, Mr Tree was a bit smaller than in preious years, but was beautiful nonetheless. It took us so long to stand him up straight that at one point my own father lost his temper and truthfully asked me if I was on acid. I felt like I had perhaps been more of a hindrance than a help. I did the decorating with Ellie, my little sis, who managed to rip off a finger or something on a pointy bit of the sparkly lights, and preceded to bleed everywhere. This put a slight downer on events, but we soldiered on regardless, such was out Christmas spirit!
I have decided however, that while Christmas spirit is much talked about, it is virtually non-existent. Most people just become really vile in this period - on the roads, at work, in the shops. While walking around Tesco, I could see behind the eyes of most people that they would probably beat you to death with a Chocolatey Yule Log for that last jar of cranberries. . . God forbid if we had to go to Lidl; people just turn up with guns and bats with nails in them - totally prepared for the Brussel Sprout shortage and the inevitable battle to the death for the acquisition of the last box of crackers.
BUT while most people would say a main cause of said Christmas aggression is the music, I think it's AWESOME; In our house, we just can't get enough! Ellie whips out her Christmas albums in about October she gets so excited!
My final comment is just about my first weekend with my family and Roblah in our new house in Cornwall. The doggies had what can only be described as the FUNNEST TIME EVER on the beach, just running around at top speed looking absolutely mental (joined by Rob who looked equally as mental)! It was lush spending some time relaxing, playing monopoly and making cookies, before my journey back to old Franceo.
I can't talk too much about my journey back or I think I would go MENTAL. You just wouldn't believe my bad luck when it comes to travelling! Essentiellement, my plane back from Bristol was delayed, and so I missed the last train from Paris, and had to stay the night. Stress! Got the first train back in the morn, and strolling back into Le Mans, massive broken suitcases in tow, actually felt quite good, and I ran to meet my friendies almost immediately!!
For now, I'm finalising my move, so will pop up some pics of my beaut new room next time. I'm too busy listening to Dirty Dancing tracks now while I dress. Fab.
Much love and whatnot, H x
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